#hopefully the future parts will be more interesting :P

[cienie-isengardu]

[MK1] Bi-Han & Kuai Liang. Good brother? Evil brother? Nah, just different reactions to trauma, part 2

With the first part, I hopefully established that within presented worldbuilding, 

A) characters being allied with the Good Side aren’t “perfectly pure” and may be involved in questionable actions,

B) the same as wishing to change prevailing traditions isn’t a sign of evilness, as tradition itself is not determinant of good and evil

C) there are little to no sources showing us that Lin Kuei benefits in any special way from its “honorable servitude” to Liu Kang and Earthrealm.

Before I will dwell more into details about Bi-Han, Kuai Liang and how Lin Kuei training affected who they are, let me established two more things:

First and foremost, we need to remember that during story mode Sub-Zero and Scorpion are affected by things outside of their control - frustration and grief respectively. So none of them are at their best (normal) mentally state.

Secondly, from on I’m gonna use words like “abuse” conventionally for Lin Kuei upbringing, not as I think their parents or teachers were abusive people on purpose but because installing in young children a traditional values is one thing and making them cold-blooded killers totally different matter and there is plenty to say - and condemn - about turning children into perfect soldiers (tools) to uphold someone’s authority or idea of a “greater good”.

The most vital question about the Sub-Zero and Scorpion is: how two brothers raised by the same parents, taught the same values and growing together in an isolated and hidden Lin Kuei clan could get such an opposite approach to tradition and authority?

As stated in the title, I do sincerely believe the conflict between Sub-Zero and Scorpion is not rooted in how morally or immorally characters they are at core, but how they deal with hardship (abuse) of being trained since childhood to be a secret weapon ensuring safety of Liu Kang’s Earthrealm and how this limited their life to one, dictated by someone’s else, purpose.

The game makes it clear the main theme of conflict between brothers is about tradition (father’s teaching), more precisely, whether Lin Kuei should follow the centuries old servitude or break with it. We could see this dispute between Kuai Liang, Tomas and Bi-Han twice, first when brothers were awaiting Liu Kang

Tomas: Were he here, Father would advise us to wait without protest. Bi-Han: But now he is gone and I am Grandmaster. Kuai Liang: His teaching did not pass with him. They should still guide us. Bi-Han: Guide us, yes. Shackle us, no.

and during the mission itself

Kuai Liang: We must honor his vision Bi-Han. Bi-Han: Vision is what he lacked. He was blind to our superiority. We settle for defending Earthrealm when we could help lead it. Tomas: Our clan doesn't govern. It serves. Bi-Han: That is our past. It won't be our future. 

The conflict was already ongoing issue between brothers to the point Kuai Liang feared at some point he would need to turn against Bi-Han to take control over the clan:

Scorpion’s Bio: But Sub-Zero's unprecedented moves to cast off the Lin Kuei's traditional duties have frozen Scorpion’s enthusiasm. He fears that he may one day have to battle his brother for control of the Lin Kuei's legacy.But Sub-Zero's unprecedented moves to cast off the Lin Kuei's traditional duties have frozen Scorpion’s enthusiasm. He fears that he may one day have to battle his brother for control of the Lin Kuei's legacy.

On another hand, the story mode suggests that despite those fears, Scorpion did not really believe Sub-Zero will ultimately go so far as to abbadon Earthrealm in need.

Story Mode, Kuai Liang: I knew Bi-Han's frustrations ran deep. But I never thought they could inspire such madness. We can't let his corruption spread.

The game keeps each brother’s reasoning as vague as possible, however Kuai Liang and Tomas does not provide any constructive argument beyond honoring father’s teaching. There is no given reason why exactly Kuai Liang and Tomas think Lin Kuei should still uphold a system that objectively speaking does not benefit the clan as far as sources are concerned, yet both are very firm about respecting tradition and fulfilling their original duty they were trained for since childhood. 

And so we have in story mode

Scorpion: We must chart a new course. One that both honors our Father's legacy and serves Earthrealm

or

Scorpion: "Glory? We fight for duty."

or

Tomas: We can't abandon tradition.

or

Liu Kang: As you know, Bi-Han and his Lin Kuei have abandoned their roles as Earthrealm's guardians. His brother Kuai Liang has agreed to build a new clan, the Shirai Ryu, to take its place. I must go aid his efforts.

while intro dialogues adds

Smoke: With you as grandmaster, our new clan will flourish. Scorpion: Only if we honor tradition.

or

Geras: We are both sworn to serve. Scorpion: May neither of us neglect our duties.

or

Sub-Zero: What is the point of your new clan? Scorpion: To fill the role the Lin Kuei abandoned.

As Scorpion’s Bio says “Like his cherished father, Scorpion is dedicated to the Lin Kuei and its defense of Earthrealm. “, the Earthrealm’s safety is an important matter to Kuai Liang, although whether this dedication comes from his deep sense of duty alone or he actually cares for other people is up to debate. Mainly, because the sources don’t provide an insight into his motivation beyond loyalty to cherished father, his teaching and “legacy”.

Out of three brothers, Tomas was the most sidelined character, but despite sharing with Kuai Liang a similar dedication to their father, intro dialogues at least directly address his desire to save people, so we may assume for Smoke, the duty to Earthrealm is not just matter of principle but a real care for others - something most likely tied to his survivor’s guilt / trauma after losing biological family:

Sindel: It's impossible, Smoke. We can't save everyone. Smoke: Then I'll save who I can to make up for the ones I can't.

In contrast to Kuai Liang, the sources add a lot of insight into Bi-Han’s motivation. Alongside his desire for making his clan stronger - and eventual expansion of Lin Kuei’s political-economic standing, the thirst for independence and freedom are the most frequently mentioned things and such repeated theme make it clear that for Sub-Zero the cherished by Scorpion and father’s tradition was nothing more than enslavement.

Story mode: 

Kuai Liang: His teaching did not pass with him. They should still guide us. Bi-Han: Guide us, yes. Shackle us, no.

and

Shang Tsung: I know that you wish to break free of Liu Kang’s control…

Sub-Zero’s ending:

“I had broken the Lin Kuei free of Liu Kang’s enslavement. We were now masters of our destiny and could take our place among Earthrealm’s greatest nations.”[...]

Intro dialogues:

Liu Kang: You have forsaken your family. Bi-Han: To free the Lin Kuei from bondage.

and

Liu Kang: Come in from the cold, Bi-Han. Bi-Han: And again kneel before you?

and

Havik: You let yourself be Liu Kang’s slave. Kuai Liang: An opinion shared by my brother.

or

Sub-Zero: I've gained the Lin Kuei's freedom. Smoke: You've only earned them infamy.

(the screenshots can be found here)

This visible difference between brothers gives us the first clue to understand the motives behind their choices and what kind of people they are. 

Whatever Kuai Liang experienced as a child, he fully embraced father’s authority and build his life around the duty to Earthrealm - to the point he never wished to be anything else than Lin Kuei

Raiden: Did you ever want to be an Earthrealm champion? Scorpion: I have only ever wanted to be Lin Kuei.

even if he clearly does not enjoy the fighting the way Bi-Han does

Sub-Zero (Scorpion and Smoke): You're both unharmed? Scorpion: We are, brother. Sub-Zero: Good. After years of idleness, it pleases me to again face kombat. Scorpion: I will be pleased when we complete our mission.

and actually may not like kombat that much in general

Scorpion: As Time’s Keeper, you could have abolished kombat. Liu Kang: Even a Titan’s power has limits.

Mind you, a timeline in which fighting is abolished is a world where there is no need for Lin Kuei, as the clan's purpose is tightly tied to kombat. What gives an interesting detail about Scorpion and his dedication to duty, even at the cost of his own comfort.

In contrast, Bi-Han questions everything

the purpose of Lin Kuei

Sub-Zero’s BIO: As the Lin Kuei's Grandmaster, Sub-Zero leads his ancient warrior clan in defense of Earthrealm from external threats. For centuries, it has been their solemn task. But Earthrealm hasn't been threatened in generations, and Sub-Zero see no point in limiting his clan to preparing for dangers that may never come. Under his leadership, the Lin Kuei will come out of the shadows and fight for its place as one of Earthrealm's great nations.

the authority and wisdom of father

Story mode: Vision is what [father] lacked. He was blind to our superiority. We settle for defending Earthrealm when we could help lead it.

and

Scorpion: Father would be ashamed of you. Sub-Zero: Only because he lacked vision.

and

Sindel: I knew your father. He was a great man. Sub-Zero: Yet he never understood the Lin Kuei's potential.

and

Sub-Zero: My father was a fool to follow you. Liu Kang: He wisely honored Earthrealm with his service.

the authority of Liu Kang

Sub-Zero: Earthrealm isn't yours to rule. Liu Kang: Nor has it ever been, Bi-Han!

and

Sub-Zero: I don't recognize your creator's authority. Geras: Denying facts makes them no less real.

and

Kenshi: Why do you so resent Liu Kang’s authority? Sub-Zero: Give it time. You will understand.

This leads me to see Kuai Liang as a believer (follower of Liu Kang and father’s authority) that wants to uphold the status quo because it was so drilled into him and/or without Lin Kuei he has no purpose or identity to cling to, while Bi-Han is the man questioning the system and purpose imposed on him. A purpose that without an external threat could turn out to be a wasted life. 

That Sub-Zero question authority is nothing surprising, as all major cryomancers have a rocky relationship with it, including previous timelines Kuai Liang. From in-universe perspective, this could be a reason why Liu Kang on purpose changed Kuai Liang into pyromancer, as I believe that cryomancer Kuai Liang would be much more supportive of Bi-Han’s independence streak than his fire counterpart is. 

This is solely a ground on which in next part(s) I’m gonna exploit more all the nuances between brothers and from where comes their different approach to tradition, authority and their duties. 

[getitoutofmymindwrites]

The crushing | joel miller x f!reader, 5.2k

Summary: This is the story of a man who had everything in the palm of his hand and traded it all for an empty space in the hollow of his heart. Or This story follows Joel, two to three years after he cheated on his wife.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, ANGST, cheater!Joel, Joel's POV, this is NOT “The Falling” from Joel's POV, brief mention of smut (p i v) but nothing too graphic (I think), self-loathing, depression, therapy, flashbacks and memories from the past, alcohol consumption, Tommy being a supportive brother (eventually), as always let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Ok, so, Joel gave me a whiplash on this one, he was either staring at me through the screen giving me nothing, or he was mumbling unintelligibly in my ear while I was trying to keep up with him. It started out as a final chapter, but I really think that this part should be Joel's POV and the next and -probably- final one should be the resolving, however that may come. I guess it can be read as a standalone, but if you're interested, it's a sequel to “The Falling”. I edited it seven thousand times because I kept adding things along the way, so I hope it all makes some sense and there are not too many mistakes.. Thank you for taking the time to read anything I write! Love you all! 🥰😘

P.S.: I just wanted to take a moment and let you know that I really appreciate everyone who has read, liked, commented, reblogged and asked about “The Falling”. I honestly didn't think a single soul would take the time to read that kind of story. It means more than you know and I didn’t take lightly how close to home this fic hit for some people; yet you’ve given it a chance, sharing some of your own experiences with me. I love you all, take care and I'll see you -hopefully- in the comments! 🥹🫂

Dividers by @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics

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...need your reassurance...

...your only focus…

...for the foreseeable future...

He did make it his sole focus. Because of course, he closed the deal, even after he left that damn table like a madman. He still found a way to get what he wanted. That's the man he was. And he wasn't sure if he hated himself for it or not. But self-loathing was a daily occurrence now, so one more reason added to the list was nothing he couldn't handle.

For two years he would wake up every day, is it called waking up if he doesn’t sleep at all?, he would work his ass off, he would go home, he would sink into despair and then he would start all over again the next day. A vicious cycle consisting of 730 days in a row. The deafening silence within the walls of the house was excruciating, the loneliness was unbearable. Even the light penetrating through the windows seemed different than when you were there with him, a dullness surrounding every corner of the now barely lived in space.

You. He hadn’t seen your face in 730 days. He hadn’t smelled your scent or touched your soft skin. He barely listened to your voice anymore, any form of unavoidable communication, you preferred to be conducted by the lawyers, or via text messages, at the most. At the 731st one, he finally knew, something had to change. He couldn’t repeat another day, like all the others that came and went. He simply couldn’t.

Tommy suggested that therapy might help Joel, a few times, but he refused every one of them. Maria was keeping her distance, her place was delicate, being his brother’s wife but also his wife’s best friend. Surprisingly, she was the one who finally got through to him.

“Are you gonna stay a recluse for the rest of your miserable life, then?” Maria wonders, switching her gaze between Joel and the dining room. Everything was untouched, as you left them when you moved out, but the place felt empty, depressing, probably mirroring Joel’s existence.

Joel sighs, closing his eyes briefly. “I’m not a recluse..”, he snarls through his teeth, rolling his eyes at her. He was more than eager to be done with the dinner his sister-in-law insisted on having in his house and be left alone, in his natural state. Alone. Infuriating woman.

“What do you call that?”, Maria persists, goddamn lawyer to the bone.

“What?!” Joel spits back pissed off, looking at his brother next, for support.

“That!” she gestures around his body and his surroundings. “The way you go on for the past two years! Either get over it or do something about it!”, she doesn’t hold back, even when Tommy proposes a gentler approach. Yeah, look where it got you, is the paid answer, so Tommy steps back, shaking his head and raising his hands up in surrender.

“You’ve got him on a leash, hm?”, Joel jokes absentmindedly, “Can you breathe alright, Tommy boy?”, earning himself a hard glare from Maria.

“Maybe the wrong Miller is on a leash..” Maria mutters, causing Tommy’s eyes to widen in horror.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”, Joel retorts doing a double back at her.

“Means that freedom is for those who can bear it.”, Maria throws her napkin on her plate and leaves the room. Joel remains silent, pondering the meaning of her words. It would be a long time before he understood what she meant.

Therapy was hard.

Therapy was hard because he had to do it for himself. He had to concentrate on himself. He thought, being the contractor that he was, that he would walk into the room, get the answers he needed and fix his marriage, just as he rearranged the bricks and the wood and the steel on the construction sites.

But this wasn’t about his marriage. His marriage and the way it crumbled down was the aftermath, he came to learn. It was the outcome of insecurities, selfishness, lack of communication, ungratefulness.

He got it all wrong. Everything. Every little thing. He had to rewire his brain and change every point of view he was holding onto. Honesty. Honesty was the key.

“Why didn’t you reach out to your wife after that night?”, his therapist insists.

“I respected her boundaries.”, Joel was quick to respond.

“And what were those?”

“She didn’t want to see me.”

“Did she say that?”

“No-, I mean-, the way she left that night, she didn’t say much in general. But she blocked my number, so.”, he shrugs in defence.

“So, how can you be so sure that she didn't want to see you? Even if you're right, it doesn't mean that she didn't expect a reaction from you, or that you weren't allowed to try, if that’s what you wanted.”

“Why would she? I upset her, she needed time to think, work things out.”, Joel explains.

The therapist swipes her fingers over her lips, contemplating her approach. “Joel, you walk into your bedroom, into what is supposed to be a safe place and you see your partner with another person in an intimate moment. How does that make you feel? Just say the first words that come to mind.”, his therapist changes the point of view.

Joel shudders just at the thought of it. You, naked, flushed, lips parted and swollen, skin sweaty, breaths short and pupils blown wide, coming for anyone other than him. It would utterly destroy him. “Furious, pissed, betrayed, heartbroken.. I think I would lose it, if I’m honest.” he admits instantly, in his haste to throw the abomination of this image from his thoughts.

“I see. But in her case, you think your wife was just upset?”

“No, of course not.” Joel slightly frowns, shaking his head.

“Do you think she felt all those feelings that you just described to me?”

“I believe so, yes.”, god this is so hard.

“You believe so?” the therapist pushes, again.

Joel’s nostrils flare from the sharp inhale, “I know so.”

“So, she wasn’t just upset.” the therapist concludes and Joel agrees without meeting her eyes, “No, she wasn’t.”

Over time, Joel came to realize that his choice of words was a subconscious attempt to diminish the seriousness of his actions.

“You said in a previous session that you gave space to your wife to work things out.”

“Yeah, it was only fair.”, Joel confirms.

“So, it was hard for you to give her that space?”

“Yes, of course, I missed her every day.”

“Was that a constant in your relationship?”, the therapist wonders.

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”

“How did you work things out as a couple, before? I assume you had difficult times as partners, no?”

“Nothing major to be honest, my wife was a very calm and reasonable person. If anything occurred she would talk to me about it.”

“And how did you respond to that?”

“Uh, I was there to listen, we always found a solution together as a couple.”

“Hmhm, so, what changed this time?”

“What do you mean?” He knew exactly what she meant.

“Why didn’t you talk to her? Communicate with her? Maybe help her see your side of things, like you did before, find your way out of this together, as partners.” his therapist explains. “And even before the infidelity, did you let her know that something was bothering you, that you felt differently?”

"I didn't feel differently about my wife. My feelings for her never changed.", he immediately corrects her. "My love for her was never the problem," he confesses and it's the first time since his therapy began that he's shared something so personal, so private.

“But there was a problem, something was wrong if you felt the need to be intimate with another woman. So, why did you keep that from her?”

Joel opens his mouth already knowing he does not have an answer. Or that he doesn't want to give one. He shakes his head, raising his brows in a silent admission that he can’t answer that. Or he won't. His gaze is fixed on a loose thread on the fabric of the couch, his fingers keep picking on it.

“Joel?”

“I- I don’t know what you want me to say, I don’t know.” he keeps shaking his head. He can’t answer that. He won't.

He was so angry when he left the session that day. He was so angry at you. He was angry at your honesty, your clarity, your courage to have a mind of your own and to speak it freely, knowing full well that probably no one else shared the same opinions as you did. That's what he loved most about you, but now he hated it.

“Own it, Joel. Own what you have done. At least that way it will be worth something. Otherwise it was all for nothing.”

This was one of the last things you said to him on the phone, while he was trying to persuade you to change your mind about the divorce. You were always so brave about those matters. Matters of the heart, of integrity. He remembers you always talking about things that he found admirable but utopian. Easy in theory, hard in practice.

“I need to be able to sleep at night. I need to own my decisions; not because I’m always right, far from it, but at least I know I’m being honest with myself. And that matters.” he recalls one of your late-night talks.

You usually found it easier to share your most vulnerable thoughts once you were thoroughly fucked and satiated. When Joel held you in his arms, your breaths almost shared over the same pillow, your scents and your fluids mixed together.

“We’re all imperfect beings, flawed; we all feel embarrassed when we fuck up,” you continue, “it’s hard to admit our mistakes to others, I get that. But deep down we always know what we’re doing and why we’re doing it. Admitting it only helps us to be present in our lives.”

“Be present?”, Joel seems fascinated by the way your mind weaves your thoughts together into deeply rooted beliefs.

“Yes, my love, there's no greater freedom than to live your life truthfully.” you smile at him, softly. Your sleepy eyes roam his face affectionately. Your fingertips caress his jawline, your thumb pressing lightly against the bare patch of his beard. He can feel your devotion pouring from your fingers and sinking into his skin at that moment.

“That’s one of my greatest fears, you know. Living my life in ignorance, in a lie.”, you whisper your deepest insecurity against his soft lips. His hold on you tightens as he rolls you onto your back, nestling his hips between your welcoming thighs. You are safe in these arms. His arms. You surrender to him, body and soul. You can feel his growing erection pressing between your folds, already wet from your combined releases. He tenderly brushes his lips against yours and slowly licks his way into your parted mouth, as he intertwines his fingers with yours. He enters you in one fluid, slow thrust, his warm exhale cooling your wet lips. “Then let me give you something real.”

Thinking back to those moments, Joel couldn't reconcile himself to the fact that he was the one who had brought that fear of yours to life. What broke him was that it was not a lie. Your life together had not been a lie. He loved you. In fact, he was burning up for you. He was a man of control, but not with you. Never with you. You consumed his every thought; being around you for too long made his lungs constrict in pain, begging for a deep breath. Sometimes he was worried sick that if he completely let himself love you like he needed to, he would suffocate you. He loved you. And it killed him that his actions suggested otherwise.

But at some point he had to be honest with himself. He was just protecting his ego. He was trying to get the upper hand out of a shitty, compromising situation. He wasn't being thoughtful, he was being selfish. He was biding his time. He thought the longer he left ‘it’ untouched, the less it would hurt when the inevitable time of confrontation came. He was scared out of his mind that he would lose you forever. No second chances, no redemption, no reconciliation.

No lingering scent on his pillow as your hair pools there, under his chin, as you nestle your face between his neck and shoulder, breathing him in. No laughter through the enormous house, damn, why did he build it so big; you never clarified what the disbelief in your eyes meant when he said he built this house for you, while he pulls you up on your feet for a silly cowboy dance.

No more gentle touches, no more noses brushing together as a silent goodbye in the kitchen before you rush off to work. No more turning around just before you open the door to leave, running to him like a little girl, giving him quick, hungry pecks on the lips while he laughs on your mouth, squeezes your butt cheek and slaps it playfully to say goodbye. Later, baby, he would promise you, his teeth nipping at your earlobe and he could feel your skin crawling with anticipation.

No more I love yous, either breathed, either whispered, either panted, as he makes a home for himself inside your warmth.

When did he fuck you last? He used to have you every day. You craved it every day. You craved him. Why did he stop telling you he loved you every chance he got? When was the last time you said it?

A week before that fateful night, when you touched him longingly, aching for him to touch you back and he told you he had work to do, he wasn’t a teenager anymore. Why the hell did he say that? Why did he sit there and watch the light fading from your eyes? I love you, you said with a sigh against his temple and walked out of his office defeated. Why did you say that? Did you know? Did you suspect? Why didn’t you fight him? You should have said something, anything, pushed him, punched him in the chest, woken him up. Would he have woken up? Or did he need that to come to his senses? Does he have to fall? Does this falling ever stop? Does he have to let you go? Will you come back to him? Does he deserve you?

Days blurred seamlessly into one another. Joel drifted further and further away from everyone. The house haunted him, all the progress he was making within the therapy walls was dissipating once he stepped inside the cold space of his empty house. Leaving the confines of it was his first thought in the morning, while he hurriedly dressed to go to his office far earlier than necessary and his last when he closed his eyes, as he laid his weary limbs on the couch, chasing still your now long gone scent on its fabric, knowing another sleepless night was his only companion until the first rays of sunlight hit the floor-to-ceiling windows to announce the beginning of another day.

People at work tiptoed around him, not knowing how to act. It was as if he was there, but not really. He was focused solely on the Marks project, mechanically going through board meetings, paperwork and supervising the construction site. He. Just. Wasn’t. There.

Joel, will you please sign the papers?

He simply stares at the text message for a good full minute, his thumbs hovering over the screen of his phone. This was one of the rare occasions you had initiated communication with him, always about the progress of the divorce.

No, no, I won’t, the little toddler in him screams, stamping his little feet on the ground.

The papers are not ready.

Joel texts back. He keeps it simple, frightened he might not get an answer back.

Joel, we both know they are. I don’t want any of your assets or your money; this is an easy signature, please.

An easy signature? You think he cares about the houses, or the cars, or the money?

You know I can’t accept that. The house is yours and so is a good part of the money.

The point was to share this house together, Joel, don’t you think us splitting up kind of defeats the purpose? And what on earth makes you think I would ever want to go back in there?

So, there’s nothing I can do to make this easier for you?

Easier? You think money or property can make up for what you’ve done?

Of course not, I wasn’t implying anything like that. Just wanna do something for you, anything.

Can you turn back time?

Of course, he can't. So, he doesn't know what to say to that. He just keeps staring at the screen, lost in thought. After 2 minutes another text follows.

?

You know I can’t..

Sign the papers. Please.

“Is there anything in particular you want to talk about today, or should I take the lead?”

“Actually I’ve been thinking a lot about that night.”, Joel suggests for the first time. He usually lets the therapist decide where to steer the conversation, then simply refuses to elaborate until he feels ready to talk.

“What about it?”, he shifts his gaze from the window to the direction of her voice.

“I should probably rephrase that. I’m always thinking about that night, repeating it in my head again and again and I’m troubled by something I realized.”

His therapist nods to signal that she's listening.

“Why did she just leave? The more I think about it, the more it doesn’t make sense to me. She just left. No shouting, no breaking things, no attacking either me or-”, her. “Why she didn’t stay? Why she didn’t insist that I leave? She was just- so quiet.”

The therapist smiles in recognition of Joel's near breakthrough. They were beginning to get somewhere, his empathy nudging him under the surface.

“I'm really glad you mentioned that, Joel, so I'd like to take you back to that night and try to understand what might have been going through your wife's mind at that moment," she explains.

“So, she walks into the house, finds her safe space violated by her husband, and she chooses to handle the situation calmly and quietly-” Joel tries to stop her, but she already knows what he's going to ask. “I can't tell you why she chose that path, that's for her to answer, only she knows why.” His therapist continues, “She is making one request of you and one request only, can you tell me what it is?”

“She asked me to leave the house.”

“Hmhm.” the therapist looks at him expectantly.

“I just wanted to talk to her.”, Joel elaborates, “I thought that if I refused to leave, she would accept to listen to me.”

“So you forced your needs on her, while she was in a particularly fragile state of mind.”

“I should have made my intentions clearer, you mean?”

“I mean, that maybe you shouldn’t have had any expectations in the first place. Why do you think was so important to you, to explain yourself right at that moment?”

“Because I knew it was probably the last time I would see her for a while, I just wanted to ease her pain, why is that so wrong? Should I be indifferent? Would that be better?”

“Did it ever occur to you that you might be depriving her of her right to choose?” Come on, Joel, break some eggs.

Joel now begins to make connections. He rubs his hand over his face, the realization of what has really happened crushing him. “Oh, god, I-” He's been so selfish from the start. He hasn't shown you any respect, not even at this delicate moment. He didn't give you a choice as to whether you wanted to listen to him or not. He didn't even let you choose where you wanted to stay. He just made you leave the house. Did he make you believe he wanted you to leave? That he wanted her to stay? Because he didn’t. Fuck. “-I never thought about it like that.”

Fuck.

How could he be so blind? Why was he so blind?

His therapist insisted on it. Because no matter how much progress Joel made over the course of a year, he never revealed the true reason behind his infidelity.

“Joel, we’ve talked about a lot of things; you’ve tried really hard to make this all about your wife and about understanding what she was feeling and how your actions have affected her, but as I keep reminding you”, she smiles understandingly, “you’re the one in therapy, you need to heal your wounds before you even attempt to heal hers. And although it is in fact a really noble thought, this” she gestures between them, “can only work if you do it for yourself. I know it may sound selfish, but I promise you, it is not. It is the exact opposite.”

Fuck.

“Yeah?”, his voice hoarse from sleep as he answers the door after the insistent knock at it. Tommy looks at him surprised once he opens it, “You’re sleeping, already?”. No, he wasn’t. He wouldn’t call it that. But when he goes almost a week without any proper rest, passing out is the right word for what he’s doing. “Yeah, I guess I dosed off..” Joel lies. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.” Tommy responds as he squeezes himself through the door to enter the house. “Yeah, sure, come on in.”, Joel mutters under his breath. “You just saw me at work this morning, is everything all right?”

“I just came to check on you.” Tommy confesses uncomfortably.

“You could have called.”

“Would you have answered?” Tommy deadpans.

Touché.

“Tell Maria I’m fine, Tommy, no need to worry about me; go spend the night where it counts.”, Joel replies in an attempt to push him away, as he walks farther into the house, rounding the kitchen island.

“Hey, brother, I’m here, I am here for you.” Tommy’s eyes narrow in pain and concern as he stares at his sibling's back, following behind him.

Joel exhales hard through his nose, his grip tight as he grabs the edges of the counter, his head lowering between his shoulder blades.

“You shouldn’t, nobody should.” Joel sighs, rubbing the pads of his fingers across his forehead.

“Ok, that’s enough.” Tommy snaps at him. “Enough self-loathing, enough resignation. Enough. You’ve punished yourself enough.”

Joel laughs at that. “Is that right? Is it enough for you? What about her?” he asks, his head turned to the side, looking at his brother over his shoulder.

“What?” Tommy is genuinely confused.

Joel turns his back, resting his waist on the edge of the counter, now looking straight at Tommy. “I should have what? Just get on with my life? Let it all be water under the bridge? Disrespect her even more?”

“Jesus..” Tommy mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand, the other resting on his hip, his eyes shut in frustration.

“Are you doing this for her? Does she even know that?”

“It doesn’t matter, Tommy!” Joel raises his voice, exasperated. “I’m not doing this for her, I’m not doing anything for her, apparently and that’s the problem.”, his voice breaks, the lump in his throat too big to push down. “She’s not here anymore, Tommy.” he’s standing fully on his feet now, pushing himself away from the counter, leaning slightly forward, like he’s trying to make his brother understand; his eyes are glazed, Tommy had never seen him so devastated before. “She’s gone. I’ve lost her.”, his palms clenched in fists in front of his chest, resisting the urge to wrap them around his shirt and rip it to shreds, as he wants to do with his heart.

“I thought therapy was working..” Tommy whispers, his eyes dropping to the floor beneath him.

“Oh, it’s working, all right!” Joel chuckles in irony, sniffing his nose. “I’m getting a front-row seat, witnessing what a piece of shit I am-”

“Hey!” Tommy tries to cut him off.

“-what on earth was she doing with me to begin with, is beyond me.”

“HEY!” Tommy's eyes bulge out of his sockets, angry at his brother's self-deprecating words. Joel bends his waist forward, puts his elbows on the island in front of him and lets his head sink in again.

“Ok.” Tommy breathes deeply to ground himself, his hands in a position of a prayer in front of his mouth, “Ok, we could both use a drink.” he realizes, as he moves to open the cupboard to grab two tumblers and the whiskey from the shelf with the drinks. “..or five.”

The two brothers drink their first round in silence, both calming their nerves down. Tommy refills their glasses without asking; he knows this is going to be a long night.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” Tommy begins, pushing Joel’s drink back towards him. Joel wringles his brows in confusion, “What are you talking about? You’re always there for me.”

“No, I haven’t, not really.” Tommy admits, “I let Maria take over when all this happened and I’m sorry.”

“There was nothing you could do, Tommy, don’t sweat it.”

“Let me say this, please.” Tommy raises his hand, his palm facing his brother. “I was just- fuck, we all knew how much you loved her, how much you loved each other, so when it all went down, I just didn’t know how to deal with it. What to say to you, how to comfort you. I didn't know how to deal with you.”

“You blamed me.” Joel says matter-of-factly.

“No-”, Tommy weakly refuses but Joel shakes his head dismissively, interrupting him. “It’s ok, Tommy, you should.”

Tommy looks embarrassed, his cheeks slightly pinkish, not only from the whiskey. “It’s just that I- I couldn’t reconcile the image of the man you were with her, with.. you know..”, he stutters.

“..the image of a cheater. Say it.” Joel adds.

Tommy shakes his head, like he still can't believe what's happened. “Besides, while she was staying with us those first few weeks I saw how devastated she was, man- she was a shell of a woman, so I was confused, I didn’t know how-”

“Tommy. Tommy, it’s fine.” Joel feels his skin crawl visualizing you like that in his head, cutting his brother off once again; he deserves every ounce of mistrust and he knows it.

“No, it’s not.” Tommy insists. “Yes, you fucked up. Brother, you really did. You did a number on her-”, Joel’s body tenses instantly at his brother’s words, his jaw clenching as his eyes darken, moving down to his hands, his grip on the tumbler tightening, his knuckles turning white and Tommy stops abruptly, “shit, sorry, I didn’t mean-”, his face twitches with regret.

“It’s the truth. That’s exactly what I did.” Joel’s gaze seems detached as if he's somewhere else right now.

“What I meant to say, is that I should have been there for you in spite of what has happened. I can see you're suffering, it's taking its toll on you, it has been for some time now; tell me what I can do. How can I help you?” Tommy seems almost desperate, like he’s the one in need of redemption.

Your text flashes through his mind, can you turn back time?, making him smile bitterly.

“Can you turn back time?” Joel's repeating your question and as the words leave his mouth he can feel your presence next to him. That's the most he felt of you for the last three years. He's almost blissful.

“You know I can't.” Tommy sighs. Joel laughs earnestly, the irony of the moment too good not to appreciate.

“Joel, brother, please, just talk to me. Help me understand. You act like you’re the one who’s been cheated on. So, what happened? Why did you do it?” Tommy is pleading with him to give him anything.

Silence fills the room for much longer than either of them would like. Joel feels torn between telling his brother everything or keeping his mouth shut. He wants to tell him, he hasn’t told a soul, but he’s not sure he can get the words out. He’s not sure he can bear to hear the words coming out of his mouth. He’s not sure he can substantiate it, make it real. Because that’s how it feels. He talks about it and it becomes real.

But maybe this is the right thing to do. That’s what needs to be done. He needs to talk about it. He needs to tell the truth and admit the pain he’s caused. Make it real for you, too. Perhaps it is time for him to give you what is rightfully yours. Acknowledgment.

Joel’s made up his mind. He’s gonna talk to Tommy. He lifts his glass to down his drink for some liquid courage, freezing his hand in mid-air as the next words fall from his brother’s mouth. “First of all, who was it?”

“What?” Joel's eyes search Tommy’s through his glass for an explanation.

“Who did you do?”, Tommy clarifies.

Joel feels like he’s been struck by lightning. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Who did you fuck, Joel?”, Tommy begins to feel confused, are they not on the same page here?

“You don’t know?”, Joel can barely speak now, his voice low in shock.

“No one does, not even Maria; she never told anyone.”

You told nobody? Not even your best friend? Why on earth would you do that? Did you feel ashamed? Was it just too much to talk about?

But his brain takes pity on him, helping him for once to understand. He’s connecting the dots while your voice fills the corners of his mind through his memories. His head is swarming with images of you standing in that walk-in closet, remembering what you said the last time he saw you. You’re the one I married, not her. I expected better from you, Joel, not her.

You were right.

It didn’t matter who it was. That is why. He was the one making the choice. He was the one breaking his promises, breaking your trust, breaking your heart; breaking you. He was the one who should have known better. He was the one who should have been honest. Easy in theory, hard in practice.

He feels a fresh wave of pain scattering through his body. He welcomes it. Damn, he’s craving it. He’s glad you chose to withhold the identity of the woman. Not because somehow it’s making it easier for him to defend himself, on the contrary.

There’s no one else to blame. Nobody. Just him. All of the anger, the resentment, the disappointment, all of them on him. He embraces them all. Everything. He will take it all, swallow it down and let it rot inside of him.

Joel tells Tommy everything. Everything, but her name.

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Taglist: @southernbe, @orcasoul, @auteurdelabre

[yourfavoritewitchbitch]

Evermore - Eddie's Ending

Series Summary: It's been 7 years since the love of your life left you behind for his career. When he decides to come back, is it too late to start anew? Will you decide to start over or realize what's been right in front of you this whole time?

Just a small note: Thank you all for sticking around with me on this small journey! Enjoy!

Masterlist found here!

18+ Only! MDNI!

Warnings: Reader is referred to as "Peach." AFAB reader. Tad bit of angst. Fluff. Eddie has a reverse prince Albert piercing. Unprotected P in V. Creampie.

Word Count: 5.6K

You were ready to finally face the past and look forward to the future. Deep down, you knew what you wanted. So, why was your heart hammering in your chest? Why were your palms so sweaty?

You turned the car around to head over to a house you knew fairly well. You’d been there a few times since Eddie had moved him out of Forest Hills.

The black sedan he’d rented sits in the drive as you pulled in behind it, shutting the ignition off and taking a deep breath. You sat there a few more moments trying to gather yourself.

Slowly moving from the driver’s seat, your feet felt like chunks of lead, carrying you up the drive. Then slowly taking the steps one by one until you are face to face with the front door.

You hesitantly lifted your fist, knocking three quick times, holding your breath in the process.

The door opened to reveal Wayne, smiling brightly when he saw you standing there.

“Well, hello darlin’.” Pulling you in for a quick hug and stepping aside to let you enter.

“Hi Wayne.”

“Don’t suppose you're here to see this old man,” chuckling lightly. “He’s in the living room, I’ll make myself scarce.” Turning to head down the hall.

“And darlin’, it’s good to see you again.” Smiling once more before disappearing into his room.

You turned the corner, to see Eddie at the end of the couch, feigning interest in whatever was playing on the TV. His profile outlined by the lamp on the table beside him, hair still pulled back in a bun from when he had put it up earlier in the morning, pieces now falling down framing his face.

“Who was it, Pop?” He said, not making an attempt to look your way when you entered.

“Uh, just some girl, but I can tell her to leave if you don’t want to see her.”

His head snapped up at hearing your voice, eyes wide with surprise as he shot up from the couch. He slowly came to stand before you as if any sudden movements might scare you away.

“Peach? What’re you doin’ here?” Looking behind you as if expecting someone else to follow.

“I was in the neighborhood. Thought I’d stop by.” You shrugged, with a faint smirk to your lips.

“In the neighborhood, huh? And you came to see little ole’ me? I’m flattered, sweetheart.” He brought his hands up over his heart. “I uh… I’m glad you came by.”

“I think we had a little unfinished business to talk about, uninterrupted this time. Hopefully.” Your smile was warm, like sunshine, filling him with hope once more.

“You want to sit? Want something to drink? Coffee, tea?” He asked.

“I could use some coffee. I’ve got to go back into the Hideout tonight. Some new band is trying out for a regular spot.”

He beckoned you to follow him to the kitchen. Watching him start the pot as you sat down, letting out the smallest sigh as you did.

“New band? Hideout still does live music?” he asked over his shoulder, busying himself gathering some mugs from the cabinet.

“Of course, I didn’t change much about the place. I guess I wanted to keep the nostalgia. The parts that I always enjoyed.”

He sat the mugs down as he took the seat across from you.

“They uh, kind of remind me of Corroded Coffin in a way. They’re young, ambitious. They want to play anywhere people will listen.”

He sipped his coffee listening, biding his time. Hoping that you were here for some other reason than small talk before letting him down gently.

“Peach, I…” “Listen, Eddie…” Both saying in tandem. You let out small laughs in the quiet space, hiding the awkwardness but you were almost certain he could hear your heart from across the table at how fast it was currently beating.

“It’s ok, you go.” Eddie spoke first.

Releasing a ragged breath, feeling his big, rounded eyes on you so intensely made you more nervous than before.

“I just came here to tell you that you were right. I couldn’t just sit there and pretend that I didn’t feel anything between us. I haven’t felt something like that, well, since…” You caught his gaze, he knowingly nodded.

“Eddie, you turned my entire world upside down and shattered my heart. I don’t think you realize just how much you hurt me. You weren’t here to see me at my lowest. I didn’t leave the apartment for a week, and once I did Steve and Robin took turns watching me because I was such a wreck.” Your eyes felt the familiar sting behind them that you had grown so accustomed to in the past few days.

“Peach, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. I know it doesn’t make up for it, but I would spend the rest of my entire life trying. I still love you. I’ve never stopped loving you. I know you’re trying to say your piece before telling me that’s it, but please. I am begging you. Just one chance, I’ll show you today and the rest of our lives.”

His big eyes boring into yours, glossy, tears lining his lashes ready to spill at any moment. You hadn’t seen him this vulnerable in a long time. Somehow you could feel he was telling the truth.

“Eddie, we live such different lives now. How would we even make it work? I’m not leaving Hawkins. I can’t leave Maddie.” The only words he focused on were “make it work.” You hadn’t turned him down.

“First of all, I wouldn’t ask you to leave Hawkins, not now or ever.” He dared to place his hand on top of yours, where it sat on the table. You didn’t pull away but turned your palm over so you could curl your fingers into his, pulling him closer. His heart fluttered at the gesture.

“Wayne and I have been talking. I’m not going back to LA, at least not right now. I need a break and a major detox. In case you haven’t noticed, I uh…I need…” He was struggling to say it out loud. Your thumb gently rubbed the tender skin you held, encouraging him to go on.

“Well, it would do me some good to sober up. I’ve been going too hard for too long.” Looking down, as if he were ashamed but you were proud of him. This was your Eddie.

“How about we take this one day at a time? It’s not going to be easy. But it doesn’t mean that I forgive you for everything you put me through. Words only go so far; you need to show me.” You squeezed his hand.

“I can do that. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.” Lifting your hand to his lips, placing a small kiss there. You smiled fondly hoping you’ve made the right choice. A second chance at a love you thought was lost.

“Alright, one day at a time Eddie.”

You sat there sipping coffee and fingers intertwined with his letting the gentle moment sink in. You were doing this; you were ready to try to love again.

“Walk me out? I’ve got to get ready for tonight.”

You both stood, as he placed his palm to the small of your back, guiding you back through the house.

“Hey Eddie,” turning back to him as you walked through the door. “There's this really cool band playing at the Hideout tonight. I could save you a seat. I’ll even have some virgin Pina Coladas ready to go. How about it?”

He grinned wide, “It’s a date sweetheart. I’ll be there.”

You were buzzing with electricity since you had left him, heading straight home to get a little more dressed up for a usual weeknight. You wore dark denim jeans, paired with a simple tank top and your own leather jacket with some old converse sneakers to keep your feet comfy. You kept your makeup simple but added a nice red lip. Something Eddie was always fond of.

The band you had hired brought in more of a crowd than you had anticipated, packing the place. The usuals grumbling about all these “young kids” taking their seats.

You were busy, helping out behind the bar or on the floor, wherever you were needed until your other waitress arrived. Your eyes kept glancing at the clock as it inched its way closer to 7 PM.

The band was set to perform at 7:30, and he would be arriving at any moment. You had roped off the two stools at the end of the bar earlier in the day, the ones directly in front of where your initials were carved what now seems like a lifetime ago.

You heard the commotion before you saw him.

Someone from the crowd shouted, as others joined in. “Holy shit, it’s Eddie Munson.” “It’s really him!” “No way!”

You gave him time, slipping in and around the people clambering to talk to the one and only Eddie Munson, frontman of Corroded Coffin. The members of the band you’d hired finally had their chance, speaking with him briefly, asking advice which he gladly gave but his mind was elsewhere.

His eyes drifted to where you sat, back turned to him. The noise and voices slowly subsided as you came into view.

“Excuse me, boys, I’ve got a hot date. And I’ve kept her waiting far too long.” He clapped one of them on the back as he made his way over. “Have a good set.”

You were sipping your Pina Colada, virgin just as you had told him they would be.

“Hi there, this seat taken?” He asked, coming to stand beside you.

“Well, I’m waiting for some guy but he’s late. I suppose you’ll do.” You grinned, taking another sip of the sugary concoction.

“His loss,” he chuckled out, as he sat.

Your eyes finally found him as you smiled at each other. He had showered, his curls down and around his face and shoulders. He’d left his stubble; it was a good look for him. It made him look older, hiding those boyish features but it was fitting. You were both older now. Your mind wonders how he sees you now.

He scooted over into your space, slotting his legs on either side of you. He smelled of that familiar leather and cigarettes that you had always found comfort in, something reminiscent of home. You could also faintly smell a cologne underneath, woodsy and expensive.

“So, handsome, what brings you in here tonight?” Pushing yourself a little closer still, knee pressing into his thigh as you slot yourself in between his open legs, feeling a little brave, placing your hand on his leg.

You watched his breath hitch, as if it was first date jitters and you hadn’t spent an entire lifetime together, but it was time to get to know one another again.

He didn’t have time to respond. The band cut through the sound system that you had spent a small fortune upgrading a few years ago as both of you looked toward the stage.

“Hey everyone, we’re Punk Rats. Let’s hit it!” It was new rock, in a small town. Something Eddie knew all too well. It usually wasn’t welcome, but it looks as if you made the Hideout a safe place for people like them to play and invite their fans. You were like him in that way, always a soft spot for the outcasts and lost sheep.

The music poured out. Loud and fast paced.

He leaned in close, so you could hear him. “They aren’t too bad.”

“I know, I hired them. Remember?” You laughed. He was so glad to draw that sound from you. Something he thought he’d never hear again.

He slyly watched you, watching them perform with stars in your eyes. He remembered those days you were looking at him up there. He’d never gotten to see you like this, up close.

You reached over and threaded your fingers through his, holding tight, letting the music sway you from side to side. You had missed his touch.

“Hey Eds,” you turned to him, finding his eyes already on you. “I’ll be right back, I’ve to check on something.” You slowly unlatched yourself from him, kissing his cheek.

He nodded, eyes trailing after you, a little sway to your hips as you went weaving through the small crowd. He thought to himself at this moment how lucky he was to be here, and he wasn’t about to let you slip through his fingers. What an absolute fool he was. Young, ambitious but at what cost?

The minutes ticked by, and you hadn’t returned. He checked his watch, looking around nervously until the bartender caught his attention.

“Hey man,” Randy cut through the chatter, “she told me to give you this,” handing him a folded paper.

For a moment his heart sank. You’d changed your mind and didn’t want to tell him. He was getting his payback, and he didn't blame you.

A look of confusion passed his features before he took it from him hesitantly, fingers with a little tremble; from detoxing or nerves he didn’t quite know.

Hey Handsome,

Meet me upstairs. The door is unlocked.

XoXo, Peach

Breathing a sigh of relief, he got up. Making his way across the bar to the front door, pushing his way out into the cool Indiana summer night air.

He looked up at the apartment window. It was dark, anticipation stirring within him as he started to climb the stairs taking two at a time but trying to maintain his cool.

He stopped, should he knock? No that's stupid, you said the door was unlocked.

He held his breath, and slowly turned the knob, pushing as the door slowly creaked open. The only light seeping in from the window.

“Peach?” He called out. Closing the door behind him, letting his eyes adjust slowly to the darkness that surrounded him.

He saw you moments later, silhouette outlined by the same window.

“Every time I come up here, I think about that night. Wondering what I could have done differently.” You gaze steady on the outside world, as he comes up behind you.

He’s well aware that he had the luxury to run away, forget it all. You had to stay, see everything that reminded you of him here in Hawkins.

He placed his arms around your waist, pulling you back into his chest. He radiated warmth but your body erupted in goosebumps from the sudden closeness.

“Is this, okay?” Breath fanning across your cheek, as he spoke.

“It’s more than okay,” wrapping your arms around his.

He nuzzled his face into your neck, breathing you in. You always smelled sweet. Something that always made him think of vanilla and summer days.

He wanted to cherish the moment, the time he had with you as he raised his head up, lips kissing tenderly at your temple.

“God, I missed you so much. And I’m sorry I’m a few years late. An apology that shouldn't even have to be made. I was stupid. Selfish.” He mumbled into your hair.

“Eddie, how about we make some new memories? Replace the ones that I need to forget.” You moved out of his grip so you could face him, as your hands snaked around his waist, meeting the warmth you missed so much laying your head to his chest.

“Yeah, Sweetheart. We can do that.”

You pulled your head away from where it rested long enough to look him over. His gaze immediately bringing you a comfort you so desperately craved from your time apart. His cheeks flushed, tinted the lightest shade of pink. Eyes drifting to his lips. His tongue darted out slightly, wetting them.

“You can make me forget? Remind me of all the good times?” He nodded.

“Kiss me, Eddie.”

You tilted your chin upward, as he crashed his lips into yours. His hand meeting the back of your head, pulling you in, his other resting on your hip.

The moment your lips met, it was desperate and needy. Your hands find purchase on the front of his shirt as you move against each other.

His tongue grazed your bottom lip, begging for entry, silently granting permission as you gently parted them.

All at once, he’s everywhere but it isn’t enough. Hands roaming, feeling any of the exposed skin he could get to. You fervently wish in this moment you could crawl under his skin, desperate to be as close as possible.

You feel a familiar ache between your legs, with an intensity that has you reeling. He pulls you closer, deepening the kiss, pressing in as you feel the evidence of his own growing need against your hip, straining against his denim.

Pulling away slightly, he sucks your lower lip gently before releasing it with a gentle pop. You’re both out of breath, panting. Leaning his forehead against yours, the small breaths being shared in the space between you the only sounds in the room.

“Eds, I need you,” you finally manage to speak.

“I need you too, Peach. Can I please, have you?”

You brought your hands up to gently cup his face. “I’ve waited for what seems like an eternity to have you back in my arms. Please.”

“Wait, is there even a bed up here?” As if he suddenly remembered where you were, and no furniture in the immediate area that he could see.

You giggle and nod, “Yes, Eds. Though I know that hasn’t stopped you before.”

“I had to ask sweetheart,” he leans in close, dropping his voice to that husky tone that has your thighs clenching, “I’d like to fuck you properly tonight.”

You yelp as his hand comes into contact with your ass with a loud smack.

“Eddie!” You chastise him, with a grin.

“Come on, baby,” he gently tapped your ass then, giving you the go ahead.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and jumped into his arms, wrapping your legs around his narrow waist. Eddie was always strong; years of lugging heavy music equipment had its perks.

His large palms cup your cheeks bringing you even closer, grinding down so you could press your core to his ever-growing bulge making you both moan out with want. He wastes no time, managing to kiss you again and marching you both straight to the bedroom.

He only breaks the kiss a moment to look around once he’d managed to get you both through the doorway in one piece. Though the bed has changed it feels the same. It’s in the same position it was always in. Fitting, he thinks.

He gently moves to the bed, sitting you down with a small bounce as you giggle. Helping you quickly shed your jacket, tossing it haphazardly across the floor as he does the same with his.

He takes your sneaker clad foot and helps ease your shoe off and then switches to do the same with the other. You watched him, scooting yourself up into the pillows. He slipped his own shoes off and made his way back over to you.

Crawling over, he nudged your thighs so he could slot himself between them. His throbbing length meeting your core once again through the layers of still too much fabric separating you from one another.

You arched and moved into him when the rough denim meets your own, but finding enough friction where you craved it the most. You let out a breathy moan, sounding more like a sigh.

It was like music to his ears.

“God, I’ve missed those sounds.” Tenderly moving the hair from your face before caging you in.

His lips once again meeting yours, not as much urgency in the way they moved against yours, but just as much passion taking his time savoring the taste.

He pulled away, your lips chasing his, it only had you pleading once more, “Please Eddie, I need you.”

“I know baby, but I want to take my time. I’ve missed you so much.” He looked directly into your eyes, tears brimming at your lash line, and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

“Needy baby, let me take care of you.”

He helped you remove your top, kissing down your jaw, then the column of your neck, making his way lower. Tender kisses all the way down your chest, as if reacquainting himself with each part of you. Thumbs brushing over the thin fabric covering your breast, earning him another moan. He moved to unclasp it, freeing you from the confines.

Then moving his lips lightly over each nipple, breath fanning, teasing you. Your head was already getting dizzy, thrown back with pleasure before his tongue licks hot, over your already pert nub while his palm engulfed the other. Switching the motions of his tongue before fully sucking and then lightly biting, making your core throb with need.

“Oh, Eddie,” an already breathless utterance falling from your lips.

Once he felt your breasts had enough attention, his lips began kissing down your stomach, before finally pulling away, easily popping the button of your jeans, bringing his face back down nipping at the top of your panties.

Once again, making you comfortable and giving you an out he asked, “This alright, sweetheart?”

You met his gaze, your own eyes reflecting the same lust he felt.

“Please, Eds.”

He helped you shimmy out of your jeans and panties letting them join the growing pile on the floor.

You spread your thighs for him once again, as his fingers began to trace patterns on your skin, getting closer to where you needed him the most. He moved inward, watching your pussy on full display for him.

“Baby, you're already dripping, and I haven’t even touched you.” He hummed.

He moved his finger to trace your slit. Your hips canting up to meet his touch, desperate for more.

Gently, he parts your lips, brushing his thumb over your clit and sees the way your aching hole clenches around nothing as it pulls another delicious moan from you making it hard for him not to take his throbbing cock out and pound you into the mattress right then and there.

“Fuck Peach, such a need girly. My needy girl.” He says as he lowers himself, head between your thighs, mouth now mere inches from your sopping cunt; breath fanning over your hot flesh as he admires the meal he’s about to devour.

He doesn’t give you time to respond, letting his hot tongue meet your core, painting a stripe from your aching hole, meeting your clit with just the pressure you needed.

“Ahhh, fuck.” You moaned out, gripping the sheets to ground you.

He began swirling his tongue over your bundle of nerves, like an exposed live wire, the coil already threatening to snap.

“God, yes Eddie. Please don’t stop!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, baby.” He speaks into your pussy, drawing your clit between his lips sucking harshly.

His finger draws lazy circles around your entrance, you couldn’t focus on one sensation alone. Everything felt so good.

That same finger began to prod your entrance, sliding in easily, a welcome relief.

He quickly adds another, curling them upward, not missing the way you’re already fluttering around him as he reaches that sweet spongy spot that has you begging for more.

He lifts his eyes, but never removes his mouth from you, as you begin to writhe beneath him, gripping the sheets as you feel the coil within you winding tighter.

His fingers brushing that spot over and over, as he alternated his attention from sucking and lightly nipping at your clit, it finally sent you over the edge. With a cry of his name the coil snaps, sending you into orbit. With stars behind your eyes bursting, all you seem to hear is the blood pumping in your ears and the distant thump, thump, thump of the music from the Hideout below.

He works you through it, drawing it out as long as he could before reluctantly pulling his mouth away and letting his fingers retreat, easing himself up.

He can’t help but admire the way you look so blissed out. Lips plump and kiss bitten; cheeks flushed. You lazily open your eyes to see him looking down at you.

“Come here,” you manage, reaching for him, grabbing a fistful of his shirt, bringing him back to your awaiting lips, tasting yourself on his tongue. It has you moaning again, threading your fingers through his hair, trying to pull him closer.

He finally pulls away, breathless, searching your eyes.

“Peach, baby, I’ve got to get my clothes off. If I don’t get inside you, I’m going to combust.” You laugh out, but ease up on your grip, letting him ease aside.

“Uh, that reminds me,” he starts as he sits up, “You got any condoms?”

“I’m on the pill Eddie, I want all of you inside of me.” Biting your lower lips watching his jaw drop.

“You are perfect.” He pecks your lips and moves off the bed.

His shirt goes first, you study his body, more tattoos on his alabaster skin than you were accustomed to. Across his chest and side. You made a mental note to study them later, as the clinking of his belt made you trail lower as he unzipped his pants, watching as he lowered the fabric from his waist, sliding them and his boxers down his legs as they pool at his feet allowing his cock to spring free, just as pretty as you remembered. Thick and long, your eyes follow it upward until something shiny catches your eye at his ruddy tip.

“Eds, what’s that?” You ask, continuing to stare almost mesmerized.

He follows your gaze, as if he’d forgotten himself. There at the head of his cock, a steel piercing is visible.

“Oh yeah. That. Drunken decision but it's hot right?” He states, with a sly grin.

You nod, as he brings his hand to his shaft, taking the pearly bead from his slit, smearing it back down. Teasing himself and you in the process, as he then moves to crawl back between your thighs.

He moves close, chest pressed into yours, as his cock nudges through your slick folds, wrapping your legs around his waist. He nuzzles into your neck as lips ghost over the shell of your ear as he speaks, “And baby, I know you’re going to love how it feels.”

Canting his hips at the last word, his head catching your clit just right, pulling a breathy moan from you.

“Yeah, that's it Peach. Let me hear those beautiful sounds. My beautiful girl.”

He moves his hand to your thigh, gently pushing. You take the hint, spreading yourself wider to him as he holds himself up by your head and his other hand travels between you.

He takes his now aching cock, teasing now long forgotten as he brings his head to your entrance. He slightly nudges inside but looks up to you for a response. Your glazed over expression is almost all he needs, but he waits. You nod, as he begins to push in slowly.

“Fuuuuuck,” he draws out the word.

Your own head now thrown back, chest heaving. Each delicious inch stretches you out.

Finally, bottoming out, he holds for a moment, kissing the side of your mouth as you moaned out once more. The high of him fully seated within you taking over filling you to the brim.

He pistons his hips, pulling almost all of the way out and thrusting back in harder than he intended. He had every intention of taking it slow, relishing the feeling as long as possible.

The slow outward drag of his cock sent a shiver down your spine and ignited a new flame deep within. That steel ring was brushing against you each and every time he thrust in and out relentlessly. It was a new experience, something you had never felt before and it had your mind and body buzzing.

“God, Eddie, you feel so good.”

Your words ignited him, it was almost too much for him to hold back, he thrust a little too harshly as his head kissed your cervix.

“Ohhhh, fuck. Eddie. Please, you can move faster.”

“Yeah, that what my girl needs, huh? Need my cock to ruin you, huh?”

He moves, pulling your thigh higher up on his waist, suddenly punching the air from your lungs with each thrust. You couldn’t think, couldn’t speak.

It was just Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

It felt like a lifetime of waiting and to have him back in your arms felt like a dream.

You reached for him, your nails digging crescents into his back. His pace didn’t let up, he felt like he was everywhere at once, invading all of your senses. Each thrust of his hips had his cock kissing your cervix, every withdrawal had him brushing that place within your walls your own fingers could never reach. Your second orgasm was building with each delicious drag.

“I’m… mmmm… Fuck,” you couldn’t get it out, but he heard your loud and clear. In one motion, he sat up, pulling your hips up with him. The new angle made it feel like he was impossibly deeper. He moved his thumb to toy with your clit, already sensitive from the first orgasm he worked you through.

“Come on baby, give me one more.” He showered you with praise, “I need to feel her. I need you to cum all over my cock. You can do that for me, can’t you baby?”

“Eddie, I…” A new sensation started to build, it had you feeling dizzy. Your orgasm was impending, but this felt different. Intense, building with each rock of his hips and graze of your clit.

“What baby?” He hummed, but it was too late you came harder than you ever have, crying out his name as it washed over you. Your pussy clamped down on him, making it almost impossible for him to keep pumping. A gush of fluid came down around you both, wetting everything in the process.

“Holy shit,” he huffed out, ceasing his movements. “You just squirted all over me. Goddamn, that was so fuckin’ hot. When did you start doing that?”

He draped his body over yours, thrusting slowly, giving your body a reprieve.

“I… I’ve never done that before.” You breathed out, chest still heaving from the exertion.

“I told you that you'd love it.” He chuckled, still balls deep inside you. Though your walls were still sensitive, you used your muscles and pulsed down around him, effectively cutting off his laugh, eliciting his own moan instead.

“Fuck Peach, you dirty girl. You could have just said you were ready,” he huffed, getting back to the task at hand as he rolls his hips back into yours.

“Where’s the… mmmmm… where's the fun in that?”

His pace picked back up; you were able to watch his lean muscles as they worked in time to reach his own release. A sheen of sweat across his forehead, eyes closed as his head was thrown back.

His thrusts became a little sloppy, so you knew he was getting close.

He groaned at your words. “Perfect, you’re fuckin’ perfect.”

A few more thrusts and he was following you.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” he mumbled as he spilled inside of you, your tight cunt milking him for everything he was worth.

He finally stilled and collapsed onto you, chests heaving, both trying to come down from your highs.

He kissed your forehead, withdrawing his softening cock and lying next to you, pulling you over until your back was to his chest and nuzzling into your hair.

You didn’t speak, nothing more needed to be said in the moment. You listened to him breathing until it turned into soft snores. You relaxed into him, letting sleep slowly take you over.

You opened your eyes slowly, scanning the room, reaching over expecting to feel a warm body next to yours.

Instead, you were met with nothing but a cold space. You sat up clutching the comforter close to your chest as your heart rate ticked up.

“Eddie?” you groaned. Waiting a few beats, only met with silence.

Oh God. You grabbed the sheet, wrapping it around yourself, noticing his clothes were gone from the floor.

You raced out into the hall, running into the kitchen. Too crazed to notice the fresh pot of coffee that was brewed or the brown paper sack sitting on the counter with

“Benny's” printed across it.

Turning the corner, you barreled right into his chest.

Woah, baby, where you going in such a hurry?” He laughed but his smile dropped when he saw the worried look on your face, immediately pulling you into his embrace.

“I'm sorry baby,” kissing the top of your head. Realizing in your state what you must have thought. “You looked so peaceful. I didn't want to wake you just yet, so I went out for breakfast to surprise you.”

You were clinging to him. Face buried in his chest, letting yourself relax into his embrace, as he rubbed soothing circles across your back.

"It's ok… I just thought… you weren't there and…” Coming out a little muffled.

“Shhhh, sweetheart. I've got you. I'm not going anywhere. I promise.”

Thinking back to all those years ago, this is what you had wished for. What you needed.

You were both given a second chance at love. It was time to let go of the past and look forward to the future together.

He had you back and he’d do everything to keep you.

In the soft morning light, you had coffee and breakfast in the apartment you once shared, ready to take this one day at a time.

[rusty-gloinks]

MASSIVE MD SPOILERS UNDER CUT!!!

This show obviously contains killing, blood, gross stuff, angst, and robo gore!!! Just a heads up!!

Again, massive spoilers for episode 6 of murder drones, please go and watch if you haven’t done so yet!!

A bunch of apps in the beginning of the episode, one of them being labeled as "ydrone", except it’s cut off and impossible to read as the frame zooms out,,,

"I use as much fossil fuels as possible - I hate the environment 💯" I LITERALLY GIGGLED.

Tried to save their friend and ended up getting their oil on their face. I just thought that was a pretty neat detail, but also being a bit sad at the same time.

Area of one of the teaser images, nice one , glitch!!

Wonderful parallel to episode 5. I love how she has to make herself taller to hold him. SO SILLY….💥💥

Pretty sure everyone’s been talking about this scene, so hopefully this comes handy in future episodes.

I absolutely love depictions of digital hologram screens, they are so awesome to me!!!!! This looks so cool , i am normal i am norma

She is so fucking scary like this. I love her.

Anddddd another…

tinkering with his hair, OUGH…. shes so silly (aside from her evil silliness)

BITING HIS HAT💥💥💥😭,,i love how he even looks up !!!!!!

There is a literally human handprint (2 of them) and what looks like if someone ran into the glass? Unless there was an "incident". Also, the raptor scratch marks don’t help either,,,erm

This show is SO fucking good at making me feel uncomfortable/unsettled, dude if I saw this I would send my ass right back up. aint no way I’m staying down here for more than 3 minutes

In fact, Human made security this human can’t control. "Maybe".

I get so abnormal when Uzi blushes it’s just so SILLYYY!!!!! like shes genuinely happy!!!!!

Uzi nodding her head when N’s right about the elevator being labeled. These 2 idiots I swear /pos

Childgiggle.mp3

SHES SO.COOL ..also Blue eye, interesting:3

"System standby" and also I believe this is the first time we get a glimpse of Uzi’s screen??

Sentinel doodle on red sticky note paper, and an override code labeled = 1234, dunno if that’s anything but here you go,,

The worker that was trying to save their friend in the beginning?? Yeah, there she is, on the table being dissected

Also, I may be stupid, but if that is yet ANOTHER Peter griffin death pose reference i am literally going to explode.

The bottles are labeled with names, and also ones that say "Corrupted core". I don’t know if anyone pointed this out but I just found it interesting to me.

I LOVE HER SO MUCH /p

N you idiot i also love you so much,what was even the point of saying this😭😭

Gross robot gore, also why is he so smiley…i understand he wants to be supportive but like.cmon your fucking rib cage is showing dude

—— CONTINUED IN THREAD/PART 2!!!!!

[titanrpg]

NO GOOD DEED: Bleed 10,000 Hit Points devlog v0.1

since a lot of people were excited about the intro snippet i posted for NGD, i thought maybe i'd record some game design thoughts as i continue working on it

going gmless

as i play and design more ttrpgs over the years, i've become less interested in games that require a lot of prep for the gm. or a gm at all. when i design a ttrpg, my default is gmless unless the game requires a gm to function properly.

going diceless

i'm also going diceless because the main mechanic is everyone's shared pool of 10,000 hp that takes 1 damage every second of real play time. i want that to shine, so i've made a ton of choices toward that goal. the mechanics heavily revolve around using and replenishing hit points. dice would just distract from that. plus, every game i've ever written is influenced by wanderhome so honestly it's been a long time coming, my writing a diceless, gmless ttrpg hah.

central gameplay mechanic (lack thereof)

NGD was born out of my own values and growth and discovery of Black anarchist theory. writing this game is a way for ME to see how these ideas play out in a 'micro-community' (shout out to jay dragon for the term) of a few friends at a table. obviously, a gm is thematically irrelevant to this idea. and as i explored a central game mechanic, i realized there couldn't be one. not for this idea.

instead, each playbook contains its own "mini game." (shout out to SLAYERS by gila rpgs for its cool asymmetric class system where i saw this first.) the setting itself will have mechanics to interact with, but each playbook has its own resolution mechanics and toys (one uses a rubik's cube to predict the future, another uses a toy top to pause the timer from ticking down, another uses a deck of playing cards, you get the idea). will this work? i'll find out in playtests haha.

an emerging theory of written narrative art forms

i'm finding that writing a ttrpg can be similar to writing a novel if you have an argument you're trying to make. mechanics communicate values and philosophy, and you can explore so many variations on a theme.

the big difference between a ttrpg and a novel (in my view, in this context) is that when you write a ttrpg, you're outsourcing the character creation/development process to the readers. it's unsurprising to me that i enjoy this, since my main "Thing" in ttrpgs is SRDs (systems that help people make their own games). caltrop core, emerge8, etc. i find the architecture/value exchange that underlies games really fulfilling to work with.

based on my experience with ttrpgs lately and novels in my undergrad degree, here is a theoretical relationship between them all, where reader involvement starts high and declines from left to right and author involvement starts low and increases from left to right:

srds -> ttrpgs -> novels

which is all just to say, writing NGD has felt like all the good parts of writing a novel and none of the parts that take me forever

final thoughts

hey, if you're still reading this, thank you. i'm enjoying this project more than p much any other ttrpg proj this whole year. i've also been in varying intensities of depressive episodes all year. it's more like i have episodes of good mental health sprinkled in with a depressive baseline. i recently increased my meds dosage so hopefully that helps.

i'll be back with another update soon. playbooks are up next.

follow me to stay updated!

-Lex

Titanomachy RPG

[dateamonster]

trying to imagine how a platonic alternate ending for sonny and dawn could have gone and the conclusion i keep coming to is that theres just no way there was enough room in this b-plot for things to be resolved in a satisfying way. for me a good ending to the sunny/dawn storyline would have to require at least a few things:

more time spent exploring their friendship dynamic. how did they meet? when did sonny develop feelings for dawn and why? was it just superficial attraction or something more based on their growing closeness as friends? did sonny ever worry about how his feelings might affect their friendship?

more time spent exploring the differences between fairies and elves, specifically from sunnys perspective. its pretty apparent just from visual cues that the elves are supposed to represent a sort of peasant class to juxtapose against the fairy royalty, but as ive talked about probably an annoying amount at this point, this is never addressed or even really necessary to the plot. theres no way it didnt affect their dynamic though. id love to see an interpretation of sonnys unrequited love that plays with this a little. maybe he sees dawns obsession with romancing young fairy men and fears what he sees as an inevitable future in which he is no longer an important part of her life. maybe his attachment to dawn alienates him from his fellow elves and he finds himself feeling caught between worlds.

explicit confirmation that the true love necessary to break the love potions doesnt need to be romantic in nature. since the movie steadfastly refuses to reveal more than the bare minimum on how the magic here works, heres how i think it should go. true love can be platonic but must be equal/requited between both parties to break the spell. dawn realizing she loves sonny doesnt break the spell. shes always loved sonny, as her best friend. in this version, its sonny realizing that his love for dawn as a friend is more important to him than his fear of rejection.

basically my ideal sunny/dawn platonic storyline (very briefly) would be like. sunny meets dawn when theyre both young and shes immediately very open and loving with him, not old enough yet to be bogged down by class/species distinctions, but while sonny cares for her as well hes much more aware of the imbalance and constantly worries about her losing interest in him. over time, and as his feelings for her develop, that fear only grows and he takes on his bombastic personality, playing the role of friend, confidant, wingman, personal jester, and whatever else is required just to keep her in his life. when she starts taking a (very intense) interest in dating, he realizes he cant put off confessing his feelings much longer, but dreads what he feels like will be a guaranteed rejection, marking the end of their friendship. from there the plot continues as normal until, in the final confrontation, the love potion influenced dawn takes a blow meant for bk and sonny realizes that the actions he took to try and keep her in his life could be the reason he ends up losing her forever. he tearfully confesses that he doesnt care any more if she returns his feelings, he just doesnt want to lose his best friend, and thats what ultimately snaps her out of it.

i think the arc should end sorta semi-ambiguously but hopefully, with dawn being naturally upset about the whole love potion thing but also understanding, realizing shes been ignorant to his worries and insecurities as well and grateful that theyre now finally back on the same page.

anyway thats my vision! i also think its p crucial to this arc for this version of strange magic to be ya know better about the racist coding involved in certain character designs but otherwise this is the gist.

[theknightmarket]

Okay, okay. Hear me out. Damien...during his college days. Long before the events of WKM. Maybe he didn't know what he wanted in life yet, maybe he did but was struggling to keep himself on track. That's where our dear reader/future DA comes in.

- Alexandrite

P. S. I appreciate the love! Hopefully I can start out on that project soon 💜

“What if I just sit here and die?”

In which Damien is plagued by indecision, and the only hope in sight is one confident stranger.   

[This is a two-parter, since this has been in my inbox for a while, and I really wanted to get something out. Here's the second part!]

TW: cursing, self-deprecation

Pages: 16 – Words: 6,000

[Requests: OPEN]

Mid-life crises were common in the university. So much so that you could expect every fifth lecture to be cancelled due to the professor’s collapsing mindset. Was this worth it? Would it lead to anything more? Or was the crumbling of the bridge catching up to you? These were questions that every member of staff asked themselves when they stepped foot onto the campus in the morning.

Mid-life crises were less common among the actual students. For one, most of them were not halfway through their lives, and, secondly, they had nothing to worry about. Half of them would have tracked down future employers, a quarter just waiting to get in on daddy’s company, and the final group filling out the few details on an army enrolment form. Really, crises weren’t only uncommon, they were near impossible to find, like tracking down a fish that didn’t know how to swim yet. Either they were rooted out at the very beginning of the year, or they learned to battle the tides – the only other option was drowning under assignments and expectations. 

And that was what made it so much worse for those select students. Their rarity left them completely alone in the educational world, fleeing from commitments as fast as they could make them. Another reason why they were hard to find was simply because they never left their rooms. They’d wake up, go to class, and then return to their homes while everyone else was out living life with the security of a life after this. It was horror to watch out the window, and torture to hear all of the pushing and nagging from the few friends they might have had. 

Damien was in this unusual group of students, and William was the friend. Go figure, they were in Damien’s dorm room, the man himself staring out the blue-stained glass at a distant football game, while Will tinkered with the knick-knacks on his shelf. If there was one detail that Damien did not fit into, it was that his friend was not pushing and nagging him. Instead, he seemed more interested in the random assortment of objects scattered around his room. 

Placing down a broken slingshot, Will sighed, “I don’t know why you’re so high-strung about this.” 

Damien could do nothing more than sigh; he wondered that too, more times than he could count on two hands. It was an unfortunate routine he had trapped himself in, one that left him in this very position after each and every lecture. He just… he found it hard to understand what everyone else found simple. The professor would say some mumbo-jumbo, a phrase he was sure the guy made up on the spot, and his classmates would nod along, like doing laps in a kiddy-pool. Meanwhile, he was left up a creak without a paddle. Eventually, it would get to be too much, and he’d flop down face first into his pillow and hope to wake up when he could get it. 

The only thing that he actually woke up to was William pounding on his door. He opened it, Will barged in, he asked what was wrong and, not long after, they were in this scenario. The third one this week, if Damien was counting correctly, but he couldn’t be sure that he was able to, at this point. 

“It’s only my entire future and wellbeing,” he replied, barely able to get the words out without straying into the fog of his thoughts. 

Will’s only response was a simple, “Exactly,” – and one that had him falling into the creaky chair beside him, still in view of the field but supported, as if thinking about this dilemma was taking a physical toll on him. 

“What if I just sit here and die?” he muttered. Really, it looked like a better option than worrying all the time. 

“Then you will be sorely missed.” 

William plucked a stack of cards from one of the shelves across the wall and flicked through it like a picture book. A few times they and their friends had gotten together for game nights, but Damien had only won once, and that was when half the group was drunk off their heads and the others too busy stopping them from hurting themselves to notice his crumbling poker-face. After that, he was the designated underdog in poker nights. 

So, gambling his way into fortune was out of the question. 

“It’s better than suffering here.”

The bed to his left dipped down as Will practically threw himself on top of it. The cards exploded out of his hands and across the sheets, as if he were spreading seeds throughout a garden. He was lucky that nothing fell on the floor, or Damien might have opened that window and thrown himself out of it. A bit of an overdramatic reaction, but what else was he supposed to do? There was only so much he could take, and anymore trouble was liable to push him over the edge, be it spilt cards, extra projects or students coming down the hall just slightly too loudly. 

Will didn’t seem bothered by it, though; he blew his moustache away from his mouth and started to collect the cards again. “Then you drop out,” he answered lackadaisically, “or you stay in, who cares? It’ll get you to stop worrying, at least.”

From his spot by the window, he watched as the university football team emptied onto the field. He didn’t know any of them personally, but, from where he was sitting, it looked like an easy life. Throw a ball, then get tackled for it - laugh along with your peers without a care in the world, except for who had the thing next. If only his days were that simple.

“I have to get this degree.” 

“Says who?”

“Every possible employer.”

Technically, this degree was a bit of a stretch. Most of the law offices just wanted any Bachelor’s, but Damien had already switched twice at the start of the year, experiences that had made him too scared to set foot near that block of offices again. He had landed on a Bachelor of Public Affairs and Policy Management, which was a mouthful, for one reason and one reason only. 

It was the one that his dart hit when he chucked it at the board. 

Finally having all the suits in one hand, Will huffed, “Ah, what do they know anyway? When I was your age, you only had to walk in with a smile and can-do attitude to get a job.”

Damien blinked. “You’re younger than me.” Not to mention that the only career that was possible in was, go figure, the military. Sometimes he questioned if his friend would be able to get any other profession, but there was no other choice than being a raging, gun-wielding madman willing to die for a badge.

“What I’m saying is,” Will shifted to sit up straighter on the mattress, “this degree should not decide your future, but you’re letting it.”

“No, I’m not,” Damien sighed back.

“Are, too!”

The image of William staring at him with a pointed figure, a bloodhound that had caught his unfortunate scent, was getting on his nerves the second it appeared. He wasn’t letting the degree decide anything, because he could barely make a decision, as is. If it were to make the choice for him, the better it would be for everyone. For him. 

Damien looked back to the football game.

“Either you get a grip on the situation, or you don’t.”

They seemed to be having fun.

“There are so many other jobs out there that you’re suited to.”

Sure, some of them were hurt, but the comradery seemed worth it.

“If you want to be stuffed in an office all day, you could be an accountant- ah, no, you’re terrible at math… Damien, are you hearing me?”

Maybe he should join the football team.

“Damien?”

God, no, he’d hate that. 

“Damien!”

He whipped his head to face Will, ready to give him a piece of his mind, but stopped short of letting it all out. He was only trying to help, he reasoned to himself, even if his ‘help’ was anything but at the moment. 

So, instead, he let his shoulders drop and eyes cast to the floor. “You wouldn’t understand, Will.”

He didn’t have the same reservations about snapping. “Like hell I wouldn’t!” William yelled, “I’ve listened to you go on and on about this course, I should think I know what you’re going through by now.” 

Now, Damien’s parents were always very hesitant to visit him, or get in touch with him in any other way – ever since he had moved out for university, they had preoccupied themselves with finding Celine a husband. He was empathetic, of course, but there was a larger part of him that was relieved for their attention being off of him. In this moment, however, he realized just how relieved he should have been. The hands on his side, the near scowl, the suspenders. Will looked like the poster boy for disappointed fathers, and Damien was not a fan of this role reversal. 

He shook his head and leaned forwards, lacing his hands over his mouth, “I’m the one talking, and I barely know what I’m going through.”

“Look,” Will pat his shoulder, “the worst thing you could do it drop out entirely, so why not stick with it, eh?”

“But what if it’s all a waste of time?”

“Then it’ll be a waste of time. Hell, you could always come join me in the military.”

This forced a laugh out of Damien, something he was thankful for, but confused at his sudden joke. Hadn’t he just been chewing him out? He chocked it up to wanting to change the mood. “Very funny, Will.” 

He didn’t laugh. 

“Are you serious?”

That’s when his cold façade wilted, and he pounced forward to grip his friend’s upper arms. That old smile was back, and a large grin paraded onto his mouth. There was practically the sparkle of a thousand stars in his eyes as he spoke with such enthusiasm that Damien would have thought he was recounting a moment of heroism. 

“Oh, think about it! We’d go into battle together, whip out our gats, and get shot in the chests by the enemy—” a wistful sigh escaped him, “—can’t you just imagine it?”

With a chuckle more nervous than before, Damien removed his friend’s hands and placed them back on Will’s hips. It was a weird movement that he was surprised he let happen, but the man was more focused on Damien’s words of, “I think I would prefer something… less life-threatening?”

A pout. “You’re no fun.” After he moved to return the playing cards to the shelf, giving Damien time to breath in his personal space again, he bounced back to the bed. “And a career in law isn’t life-threatening?” he partially joked. 

“Not any more than a battlefield.”

A deadpan look overcame Will, a slow blink, and then he counted on his fingers while replying, “Political violence, riots, assassinations…” 

Damien threw his head back with a groan, some of his hair coming askew.

“Ah. Sorry, friend.”

He really knew how to cheer a guy up, huh? Why he even called on him anymore was beyond him, but who else was free to listen to his lamentations. He was becoming a broken record, though he wasn’t happy with it, and he had all but exhausted the rest of his options. Mark gave up after his first crisis, and Celine told him the cut and dry without a second opinion, leaving William the only one to actually hear him out, even if his advice was less than good. After him, the only thing left was talking to the wall. 

Not that he needed to resort to that, because, seconds later, there was a knock at the door. Damien squinted at his friend, suspicious of some ambush he’d orchestrated, but he looked just as surprised to hear the sound as he was. So, while he watched, Will moved to swing the wood open. 

“Ah, Celine!”

God, no. 

“Is Damien in there?”

Why did she decide that now was the best time to check up on him? His inner complaints didn’t matter; at Will’s chipper reply of, “Yep,” she shouldered past him and glared down at her brother, even more disappointed than Will had been. 

Celine had always been an oddball, and he could say that, because he had spent the first sixteen years of his life tied to her hip. Whenever their parents told her to do something, she would ask why, and when they answered, she would ask why again. To the point, she was curious and determined, a combination that the locals thought discouraging for a woman. Of course, she didn’t care. The snide comments rolled off her like water on a duck’s back, and she went about her days doing whatever she wanted to. Even now, she had invested her life into the dark arts, one of the hobbies that separated her from the rest of her family, but Damien never saw reason to stop her. He was worried for her, granted, but that was only because of certain… events that proved it was a dangerous practice. He was just glad to have her in his life. 

Although, at that moment, he regretted sticking so close to her. 

“What are you doing?” she demanded the second she stopped within two inches of him, a glower clear on her face. 

“Wallowing.” 

“Why?” 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with my life.” 

Surmising the last half hour in two sentences put things into perspective, but that just made him fall deeper into the pit with how much time he had wasted. 

Celine, expression as blank as a mannequin’s, answered bluntly, “You’re going into the law sector.” 

Damien could do naught but sigh. That much was easy to get, it was just the next months that were going to be tough. “I know, but…” he trailed off, trying his best to avoid her scornful eyes.

“Not ‘but’. You’re going to do it, and that’s final.”

“How do I get through the year?”

Celine looked at him like he was dumb. “You do the work, take the exams, get the degree.”

“You say that like it’s simple.” 

He hadn’t realized that the ‘you really are stupid’ look on her face could intensify, but, apparently, it could. “It is.” 

Damien hated it when she looked down on him – literally and figuratively, and, this time, the combination of the two exchanged his sorrow for something else. The way she spoke boiled his blood, she hadn’t even gone to university, and there she was, talking to him with sure-fire confidence that was going to get her into trouble! Damien loved his sister, he really did, but there was only so much advice and simplification that he could handle. Will, who was standing idly in the corner with a notebook in one hand, had loaded him with the bags, while Celine added the last straw that broke his back. 

“You know what?” he huffed, shooting to stand up straight. His eyeline met Celine’s, passed by to glare at William, and then returned to his sister. If they really wanted to give out unnecessary opinions, they could commentate that football game. “Out.”

“Damien,” she spoke, simple but stern, but he wasn’t having it. 

“Not ‘Damien’—” he pushed at her shoulders and guided her towards the door again, Will standing to attention beside her, “—leave my dorm room. Go on, out you go.”

Halfway through the doorway, Celine called over her shoulder, “You’re going to have to decide sooner or later.”

“Oh, I thought you’d decided for me.”

“Dam—”

She was cut off by Damien yelling, “Goodbye!” and slamming the door behind the two of them. He felt slightly bad when one of his photos collapsed onto the floor from the shaking of the wall, but he himself was shaking too much to care. To ensure he wouldn’t be bothered again, he dragged the wooden chair away from the window and lodged it underneath the door handle, falling onto it within the next second. 

His group of friends were pushy, stressful and beyond annoying in the best of occasions – but they were his friends, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He just… wanted some time to talk through his knot of thoughts without comments or advice or anyone trying to convince him to do anything else. Yes, he realized that he had no clue what he was doing, but he didn’t need anyone coming in, uphauling his life and telling him what to do with it. He only wanted to be okay. 

That got incredibly harder to do when yet another hit against the door caught his attention. All of his thoughts of peace and calm smashed out the window like frantic doves, while Damien himself all but chucked the chair back where it came from. Not even a second into his break, and someone had to interrupt him! He swore that if it were Celine and William again, he would break something. 

“I told you—oh.”

Except it wasn’t them. In fact, it wasn’t anyone he had spoken to before in his life. 

You were practically a stranger to him. 

That was a regrettable fact, due in no small part to you having shared a class for the last year and a half. Despite Damien not speaking up in class a lot, there was the odd moment that he would hear you answering a question or posing a problem to the leading professor. They always had the ability to make him more secure in the knowledge that you asked about, but it didn’t help when you understood something completely. Hell, sometimes he’d be on the brink of walking up to you and getting the answer from you directly but chickening out at the last second was a fond habit of his. To conclude, he knew nothing of you and you nothing of him. So, that begged the question: why were you standing outside his door, fist still raised in the air and a shocked look in your eye?

“Uh, hi?”

“Hello.” 

You visibly swallowed. Had he made a bad impression already? What was he saying, of course, he had. 

“I’m, uh, I’m new- well, new to the campus, I mean,” you laughed lightly to stave off some of the awkwardness that permeated the space between you both, “I’ve been here a while, and I just wanted to introduce myself to the people around my dorm.” You sent a glance over his shoulder and, presumably, spotted the toppled chair. “Sorry if I disturbed you?”

Damien rushed to answer, “No, no, not at all. I just had some visitors.” He could feel the heat radiating off his face, no less sure that it was doused in a fire-hydrant red. 

Nodding slowly, a smile crept over your mouth. “Okay, well, I’m just down the hall in 53. I’ll be seeing you around?”

Damien, too, nodded, but with double the speed and triple the nervousness. He was terrible at socialising, and the icing on the cake was when he, barely conscious of his body, outstretched one hand. Etiquette training from his parents really paid off, huh? He’d made a fool of himself in the first minute of meeting someone, probably even less if you’d heard his yelling. Maybe this was a sign that he should switch university entirely, get away from this horrid introduction with one of the only people willing to be friendly with him. And, great, he must be flailing in the interaction because even his hand is blushing now!

Or going insane, if him forgetting that hands don’t blush was anything to go by; in reality, you were just shaking it back. 

Your hand was… warm. That was the first thing he noticed, the second being the style of your handshake – it was firm and definite, but not mean-spirited. Analysing it might have been weird, but it was the only thing he could do to stop himself from spiralling or squeezing too hard. 

The pressure left quickly, though, and while your mouth moved to say a formal goodbye, Damien didn’t hear a word of it. He was too focused on the possibility of someone to talk to who wasn’t a childhood friend. It both excited him and had him biting back panic. 

As calmly as he could, he closed the door after you’d moved down the hallway. God forbid you or anyone else see him such a mess. He made it a half-step in front of his bed before he collapsed dramatically overtop it. He would have to tread lightly in lectures now, even more than he had before, and that was not something he was looking forward to. 

That following morning, when he shuffled out of the floor of students and into the classroom, Damien was prepared. His plan was set in stone; to get to his desk, set out his books, avoid any and all eye contact with you or anyone associated with you until the class was over, and then leave, possibly to never return, but that was par for the course. He had just about completed the first part of his plan when you arrived, followed swiftly by a couple of your friends. 

Damien dared not look up from the wood as you situated yourself, in your usual seat and ready to get started. He appreciated your enthusiasm, but it didn’t stop at the requirements of electoral candidates. No, unfortunately for him and his steadily cracking stone, it extended to your social skills. 

Once your eyes caught his, you didn’t miss a beat in stalling your conversation with a friend to shoot him a smile and wave. Damien could feel his heart in his throat even after you had looked away. That spark in your eye – it was so mesmerizing, like a firefly that he wanted to put in a jar for safe-keeping. It was a weird feeling to suddenly want to learn about something, be engaged in the present, just because you were. It almost made him laugh; it took you two seconds to do what all of the guidance counsellors on the campus couldn’t do in two years. You really were something, huh? 

While Damien was busy flipping his brain on, you were barely awake. To be honest, you hadn’t slept well the night before, and a class as early as this one was bound to make you none the better. Upon stepping foot through the room’s door, you had been ready to call it quits right then and there – but who did you see but that guy, the one with the dark, combed back hair and alarmingly striking eyes, sitting on the opposite side of the room to you. Damien, if you remembered correctly from the first day on the course. Back then, you had sat at the back, and watched as everyone told the professor their name, his reactions, their reactions to those reactions, and so on, and so forth. It was an exercise in futility because you almost immediately forgot everything you had paid attention to. Or you thought you had, completely and utterly blown from your mind. 

But then there was Damien. Now, you hadn’t said a word to him in the time you’d been in a class together and you hadn’t even known he lived on campus until yesterday. It was a turn of fate that the room George Jacobs had vacated was down the hall from him, and that he was the only one still there to answer the door. 

Everyone else had been down watching that football game, cheering on their selected team. However, you had no sentimental attachments to anything yet, you didn’t care which team won or lost or got injured or called out unfairly by the referee. You were more concerned with the people who would be around you for the next couple months, though your worry went uncomforted because every door that you rapped upon was empty. Either that, or they heard you coming and vowed not to open up. 

You made your way down the hall, shined shoes reflecting the lights of torches on the wall. Even though it was only just getting into autumn, the nights were getting darker, and the days were getting shorter, and you were wondering if investing in fluffy jackets was the right thing to do. As you waltzed across the clean rug, you let your eyes wander. The decorations weren’t half bad; a bunch of old but pretty paintings spread across the walls, and plant pots lining certain doorways. A golden fire extinguisher hung worryingly used at the end, but before you could get to it, you stopped. 

From out one of the rooms, 61 or 62 from your point of view, two people exited. Exited was a general term, really, because they looked to be more shoved out than leaving on their own accord. They exchanged a few words before the darker haired one grabbed the other’s hand and dragged them down the corridor opposite you. Neither spared you a glance before they were out into the stairwell, but that was fine by you, because you were more focused on the door slamming closed after them. 

Anyone else might have been put off by such a clear sign of aggression, but you were far from anyone else. This, to you, only showed that someone was home, and that was someone you were going to introduce yourself to. Besides, you had come out here to see who you were going to live near, and a nameless student with at least two friends and anger issues was a hell of a way to start. 

So, with more of a bounce in your step than before, you jogged up to the door. It loomed in front of you, the peephole practically staring daggers into your soul, until you raised a fist and knocked a rhythm against the wood. Barely a second had gone by before a crash slipped around the hinges and the door whirled open. 

“I told you—oh.”

Your eyebrows jumped halfway up your forehead, registering a slightly familiar face and a completely unfamiliar reaction. It was unexpected and had you pressing your backfoot into the ground in surprise. You’d noticed Damien once or twice in the back of the class, the guy who was always present and presumably ready at the start of the lecture. Thinking back on it, you don’t think you’ve seen that classroom empty. He’d never taken a sick day or been late, and that left you with a somewhat skewed impression of him, not that you knew it was sorely incorrect. 

But all in all, you’d thought that the silent, collected bystander in the class would be the last one to burst out with such a tone. You were left subtly speechless while he looked on in apparent disbelief. 

“Uh, hi?”

“Hello.”

And the conversation continued – if you could call it that – in relative awkwardness. You tried to be nice, introduce yourself as your family had taught you to, but you couldn’t help but think that something was… off about the interaction. Maybe it was the timing, maybe it was you, or maybe it was just dumb luck that Damien didn’t look like he wanted to talk then. The interaction was quick and efficient, the worst combination for a good chat to be, in your opinion. It left you wondering if you should apologise and start again, maybe during work hours when you weren’t intruding on his personal time. 

While the whole moment was lacklustre, there was one take away that had you looking forward to the next day; Damien had shaken your hand, not something you had expected, but it gave you some information, all the same. A handshake was indicative of someone’s personality, and this time, you were very interested in the results. First of all, Damien had initiated it, so the leading theory was that he was confident when in his own space, when he had the most control. Second was something that contradicted it, though, since his barely-there pressure hinted that he was not sure in his social skills but that he still had them. Likely engrained in him from an early age – like singing a song, but not understanding the lyrics. Finally, and this was your thought as you began to walk back to your room, you were the one to let go. You weren’t a shrink, not by any means, however, you thought yourself good at reading people. It seemed that Damien’s impulse to shake your hand might have started from tradition but continued with the physical touch of your hand. That look in his eye was far-away, the pupils locked onto your handshake, and a faint scattering of red along his cheekbones. People in the university often desired closeness, and you had a feeling Damien was no different. You almost apologized when you let go. 

To conclude, Damien, confident in his area, well-taught but timid, impersonally romantic, and, although it was something you didn’t catch from his handshake, handsome to boot. To say you were intrigued would be an understatement. 

And that was exactly why you found yourself checking the clock and walking up to Damien’s desk. You had to manoeuvre around a lot of other tables, giving him plenty of time to notice you, but he was still staring distantly at his notebook when you came to a stop next to him. 

You cleared your throat. “Hey, there.”

The second that the first syllable made its way out of your mouth, he looked up in surprise, like you’d just told him the president had died. His expression was almost horrified, which wasn’t the way that you wanted to start this interaction, but you could adapt. 

To ground yourself, you leaned back on the desk behind you. The wooden legs creaked and bent under your weight, though they stayed upright while you collected your thoughts. You didn’t want to scare him, far from it, you just wanted to get to know him a little. You weren’t the best at making friends, most of the people you spend time with being the people from down your street when you were a child, so this was a new, but welcome, challenge. 

But first things first, you had to make sure he wasn’t going to run away at the first sign of you being anything but what was expected. 

“I’m sorry if I came off weird last night,” you started, edging your bets with a small chuckle. 

Damien’s eyes darted around your face, looking for something of which you had no clue, but it wasn’t long before they landed back on his notebook. “Yeah, no, it wasn’t… you’re fine.”

“Thanks, I’m, uh, not normally like that, I guess it was just weird being in a new place without any family.” 

“Well, that’s not always a bad thing.”

Your eyebrows furrowed with this new information. It was a comment you hadn’t expected from him, but you had a feeling that it had something to do with those people coming out of his dorm room. After all, thinking back on it, that first one had the same dark shade of hair as the man before you did. It wouldn’t hurt to take a chance.

“Were the people last night your family?”

This encounter was going swimmingly, since he, apparently, hadn’t expected that from you either. This was a lesson in not judging a book by its cover, huh? 

It took him a second to realise that he was still in a conversation, but Damien’s answer came a moment after. “One of them, yes. My sister, Celine, my twin, actually.” 

“Oh, is she at the university, too?”

“No, no, she isn’t a fan of mass educational environments. Will isn’t either, but that’s what make them a pair.”

“Will?” 

By this time, a fuzzy feeling was rising in your chest, the same kind that you’d get when you clutched a hot water bottle close to you on a cold night. This was a conversation – you were having an actual conversation with someone you’d just formally met! You would have pat yourself on the back had you not been in public, but you noted it down for future reference when you were alone again. 

“Yes, he’s my friend. I’ve known him for years, ever since he accidentally shot a slingshot through my bedroom window.”

That drew a laugh from you, one that surprised the both of you as it came out. Etiquette be damned, that was funny, so you let your true feelings show. 

Your sudden chuckling brought forth Damien’s own few mimics, only interrupted by you shifting your arm to gesture towards your own group of friends. 

“That one’s James,” you commented, ‘that one’ being a blond, more on the shorter side, guy, heavy-set with an ironed shirt that he was nearly bursting out of. You moved your hand to the left, now pointing at a laughing woman, who had an arm wrapped around another boy’s shoulders. You supplied, “Kate and Michael,” before nodding at the last person sitting around the conglomeration of desks, “and Edward.” 

“They seem, uh, nice.”

It hadn’t been a joke, and yet you laughed anyway. You stopped yourself before it attracted any more attention than you had already garnered, and muttered, “Yeah, they sure seem it.” 

“I mean it,” Damien replied, grasping for his pen in the wake of a steadily rising blush. 

“I know you do,” you replied, humour clear in your voice, “but just you wait until you meet them.” 

Meet them? Damien’s redness shot out of him like a bullet as his eyebrows furrowed. You wanted him to meet your friends, or did you mean in general? He weighed the options and found that he’d rather you introduced him, not even considering the fact that you would be introducing him. 

“Unless you don’t want to, of course,” you rushed to say when you noticed he looked almost conflicted.

“Oh, no, I do want to!” The words fled from him before he was aware that he was thinking them. It was only when he you smiled a bright, contagious smile, that he started to fiddle with the cap of his pen once more.

“Great!” You might’ve been embarrassed to admit that your heart beat slightly faster, your hands started to sweat, and the urge to scream tapped at the back of your throat. “We’ll get it set up, then, shall we? I was thinking maybe tomorrow at 12, or, if you’re busy, we—” 

“Can everyone take their seats?”

Your head snapped up on your shoulders, spine straightening, and your attention directed to the suddenly full classroom. Or, rather, not suddenly; you’d been too enthralled by getting Damien to talk to your friends that the students filing into the room flew under your radar – not even the person who normally sat in the seat you were occupying cared enough to ask you to move. They, notably, had set themself up where you normally would sit. 

The one time the class was actually full, and it was the time you were definitely going to embarrass yourself for it. 

Ignoring the brightening of your face and choking down an awkward laugh, you met the eyes of the professor at the front. He had this very specific look that you never thought you’d see directed at yourself, but there was a time for everything. It was almost smouldering to look at, and you weren’t sure if it was your face burning from your blush or from his glare.

“Oh, sir, I’m not—” you rushed to explain. 

The glare worsened. You swallowed. 

“Everyone, take your seats.”

You shuffled into the wooden chair of the desk you had been sitting on, confident in only one thing; that you’d made a fool of yourself. The impulse to slam your head through the table was strong, but you fought it if only to avoid further attention. Sheepishly, you cast a smile towards Damien, who offered back a smaller, but still genuine, grin of sympathy.

You could do this. Totally. Why wouldn’t you be able to? It was just sitting next to a potential new friend who had seen you mess up thrice now. 

What could go wrong?

 

[‘Hey, Alexandrite :D

Woah, two two-parters in a week?? Seriously though, apologies for the wait, exams have been kicking my ass. Also, this is a two-parter mainly because I think I just really like writing Damien’s dynamics with his friends. I’ll definitely be getting the second part out after exams all finish, though, so I hope it’ll be worth the wait]

[dribs-and-drabbles]

Kawi and his sense of Self

I've had Thoughts jumbling around my head for a few days, ever since @waitmyturtles started watching Be My Favourite (and sped through all 7 eps - so great to have you on board!) and having read some really great posts about time travel, the idea of 'present' and 'past', truth, and Kawi's character growth (here, here, here, and here are just a few examples by @waitmyturtles, @rocketturtle4, @wen-kexing-apologist, and @ginnymoonbeam).

But it was @rocketturtle4's addition on this post that made me think more about Kawi and his sense of self, specifically the bolded part of this line:

The overall theme of being who you are regardless of the time you are in feels like it needs teasing out more.

And this might not be interesting to anyone but me, or relevant to the analysis of the show, but it's bouncing around in my brain and I need to write it down.

The above line (and all the talk about Kawi's present and past) made me think about Antonio Damasio's theory of the construction of the Self in his book The Feeling of What Happens:

The idea each of us constructs of ourself [sic]...is based on autobiographical memory over years of experience and is constantly subject to remodelling. (p. 224)

This remodelling occurs through the reworking of memories - so each time we remember a memory we craft it slightly different based on our accumulative life experiences and innate biases.

BUT what really made an impact on me about this is the following:

The changes which occur in the autobiographical self over an individual lifetime are not due only to the remodelling of the lived past...but also the laying down and remodelling of the anticipated future...The memories of the scenarios that we conceive as desires, wishes, goals, and obligations exert a pull on the self of each moment. No doubt they also play a part in the remodelling of the lived past, consciously and unconsciously, and in the creation of the person we conceive us to be, moment by moment. (pp. 224-225)

So how does this relate to Be My Favourite?

Many people have already talked about how Kawi is not a nice person (this is a great post by @respectthepetty). Why does Pisaeng like him? Kawi doesn't even like himself. And, at the beginning of the show, Kawi's Self - his identity - is built from his memories of the past and his immoveable desire of what he wanted and still wishes his future to look like. Kawi is miserable, stuck in a miserable life (of his own making), and unable to make any changes because his idea of what he wants his future to be is impossible.

But then he gets to go back in time, and his sense of self starts changing. It changes because he's remaking his memories in real time, and in remaking those memories he's being exposed to things which are gradually altering his desires and goals for his future.

And that's a huge shift for Kawi. It's almost like going through a break-up - in a break-up, not only do you lose the person you're with but the future life you imagined with them ceases to exist. So you lose your sense of identity. Who are you without them? - Who is Kawi when he's not pining for Pear? Who is Kawi when he gets and loses Pear? Who is Kawi when he dates Pisaeng?...

And it's no wonder everything is still a mess when Kawi jumps forward to his present - he hasn't had enough time in his changed past to process the new memories of his past, nor to honestly admit to himself (or realise, if he's not quite there yet) what he really wants for his future.

And this journey is such a beautiful one to watch. As his memories and future scenarios change, Kawi's sense of self changes - hopefully to a happier, 'better' person...and I mean 'better' in the sense of nicer to other people because he's nicer to himself (and vice versa) and more open to change, rather the rigidity of his 'older' Self stuck in his miserableness.

I think this is why I'm warming up to him, because he is changing, albeit gradually, and changing for the better. He's becoming more pliable in his outlook, choices, and acceptance of things he can't control. All of which will aid him in being able to see a different future for himself - like an upward positive spiral. (This is a great post by @lurkingshan which is sort of related).

I'd love to be able to connect all this with other people's takes (especially to the discourse around whether Kawi will stay in his past and live his 12 years again or jump forward to an altered present and 'fix' what he can there) but my brain has stopped here. HOWEVER, I welcome others to jump on and expand on this if they wish.

(also tagging @grapejuicegay since we've been shouting to each other in our dms about this show 💖)

[phoenixtakaramono]

Kittens, I’ll be honest, I am getting a wee annoyed at the one remaining shadowban on my Twitter acc persisting. *stares mournfully* I just wanna post art on both of my socials and/or perform experiments to see if I can continue freely updating my little spontaneous drabbles threadfics. 😑

On the flip side, it’s been a nice one week social media break from Twitter lol. Then the shadowban got reinstated when I tweeted a pic of being freed from the Shadow Realm, which is very ironic and hilarious in hindsight. So if you saw that pic and then noticed me immediately ceasing all activity ever since, this is why.

Presumably after a couple more days or 1 week of inactivity (hopefully this doesn’t last 1 year), it should be all green again. I’ll probably wait a couple more days to 1 week more max before tweeting anything.

In the meanwhile, current plans for my stories after I come back from my writing break:

Truce ch3 will be next to be updated. The temptation is really strong to wait till S4 of The Boys airs because there’s a small part of me that’s afraid of conflicting what’ll undoubtedly be presented differently in canon, but I’ve been pacifying the urge by watching Gen V with the Boyscord boys. If you notice, there’ve already been mentions of Sister Sage, Firecracker, and even Tek Knight (*coughs* TK is more subtle because he’s only been indirectly foreshadowed via SwingWing in ch2 for ch3 and not outrightly mentioned unlike SS and F) in Truce. And watching Gen V, thankfully, has given me good ammo with the characterization of TK at least and given me food for thought with the Supe virus that’d been in the late Dr. Edison Cardosa’s possession now being in Victoria Neuman’s possession (*coughs* I can see the future bioweapon potential, especially if/when Billy gets his hands on it and he’s gone off the deep end).

I will do my best to keep Truce contained to 4 chapters only. *knocks on wood 3x* I did mention it’s essentially 12 chapters being condensed into 3, which then became 4 because I’d ultimately decided for chapter 2 to be split into two parts (ch2 and ch3). But at the end of the day, this was always intended to be a PWP and as a sort of gateway fic for people to be more interested in The Boys (TV) and spreading interest of this small enemies-to-lovers rarepair I’ve come to just adore. Somehow the self-indulgent fic where I’m just writing shameless old men p*rn became what it is today, haha, but I’m the type of writer who prioritizes “plot” and “character study” and worldbuilding so in retrospect it’s very on brand for me to write p*rn with some serviceable plot, haha.

After ch 3 is updated, unless I desperately need to take a break and jump to another fandom for a bit (*coughs* SVSSS), ch4 should be next to be worked on. This is also if I’m not hit by the strong urge to work on TNotG ch2. So what’ll come next after updating ch3 will be dependent on burnout and what strikes my writer’s whim.

But after ch4 is published and, hence, having finally completed the Truce saga (there will be a future Wedding oneshot I’ll write that takes place post-Truce universe and after a timeskip of events that won’t be covered in Truce because otherwise it’d be turned into a full on 20+ chapters, but that oneshot follow-up will be written sometime later), unless I’m heavily feeling TNotG (which is a real high possibility), what’ll be next to be updated is my Bingyuan magnum opus: The Untold Tale.

I’d written a little April Fools 2023 threadfic for TUT ch6 so if you’ve read it, you know what to expect. We’re bringing in Shen Yuan’s divine family. If there’s one thing I personally don’t like in my own writings, it’s having OCs in my stories unless it’s strictly necessary—so to strike a happy medium I’m bringing in technically canon characters (his parents, two older brothers, and little sister) but turned into PIDW fictional versions of “Shen Yuan’s” family, so technically this is my personal go-around to trick my own brain to not see them as OCs. There’ll also be a scene involving Bing gē. All and all, TUT ch6 is more of a transition and set-up chapter for the more exciting ch7, where we will get to see the transmigrated royal Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky for the first time. And I will have an illustration of him and potentially Mobei jūn. But before we can get to the exciting chapter, ch6 has to exist first, haha. But I hope when I return—jfc, I see 1.5K of you have bookmarked this fic 😳 I am honored but also a little nervous, haha—that you’ll still love the story. <3 Having been in The Boys fandom for awhile with its modern lingo, I hope you don’t mind if I take the time reimmersing myself into the headspace of TUT’s C-novelesque writing style. It might take some time but the payoff will be worth it. <3 Because I do notice quite a few of you lauded the writing style of TUT in your Bookmark notes. Which I am quite appreciative for and humbled by, though it does require me to be in the mindset to write intentionally flowery prose, haha.

It’s during this time, since Truce will be completed at this junction of time, I should be slowly migrating over the four threadfics from my Twitter to AO3. If you know, you know. Three of them, as I said, will be adapted into long fics (the M3GAN-inspired AU, the Fix-It AU, and the Sugar Baby AU). I’ll categorize them under what I’ll likely be calling either the Who Dares Wins series (‘cause it’s the SAS motto, y’get it? *wink wink nudge nudge*) or the Shock and Awe series (because it’s also another military operation name). Whichever I choose, it’s because Scorched Earth had already been taken so to be unique, I gotta go for something else cheeky but hopefully easy to remember by—aka the series of AO3 fics adapted from my Twitter threadfics. <— The only caveat is if I discover writing threadfics on Twitter will still get me shadowbanned. If this is the case, then I will be relocating them early after my experiment has been conducted even before Truce ch3-4 and TUT ch6 are written. There’ll be no real update schedule right now for them; these fics will be updated spontaneously because 80% of the content is being adapted from content that’ve already been written so it’s a bit easier for me to crank out (it’ll just need to be polished). What’ll be slow is if there are any new story content that’ll be added to the polished long fic versions.

Lastly, what’ll be next after TUT ch6, unless I’m very excited to get started on TUT ch7, is a toss-up between updating A Prince and His Baron and The Name of the Game. It depends on where my creative whim oscillates to at this junction of time.

So this is the plan! Take it with a grain of salt for now if a different story of mine will be strongly speaking to me and I change my mind later on, but this is the current list I have of my update schedule, adhering to the pinned post on my tumblr. ✨

[weirdestbooks]

The Shot Heard Around the World Chapter 15

Take the Fort (Wattpad | Ao3)

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May 10, 1775

Sieges were boring. Thirteen knew they were an essential part of warfare and could be the difference between victory and defeat, but they were boring. You sat there for who knows how long, waiting for your enemy to just give up and turn tail. 

Boring.

It was part of why Thirteen decided to tag along with Benedict Arnold and his plan to gather troops and take Fort Ticonderoga. It seemed more interesting than sitting around waiting for the siege at Boston to break or listening to his congress argue over independence or reconciliation. 

Even Thirteen didn’t know what he wanted when it came to that decision, so he resolved to try and stay out of it for now. Thirteen knew he would have to visit Congress at some point, but the longer he could distract himself from politics, the better.

‘I don’t know if that will be for the best.’

‘Yeah, our future is being decided, and we are just…not there for it. Why isn't that more concerning to you?’

His thoughts were right. Maybe Thirteen should be more concerned about the decisions that were being made about his future without me there. But it’s not like it’s a new experience for him.

‘But now you can make them listen to your opinions more!’

Even if they listened, which humans rarely do, Thirteen wasn’t sure of his opinions. Even if he fought alongside the so-called rebels, the Patriots, Thirteen still held love and affection for his father and family back on his father’s island, and Thirteen wasn’t sure if he could let that go. If he even wanted to let that go.

“You look lost in your thoughts again,” Ethan said beside Thirteen. The colony smiled wryly at the leader of the Green Mountain Boys, trying not to appear as tired as he felt.

“I have a lot to think about, especially with everyone so divided nowadays, as I'm sure you’ve seen,” Thirteen said, raising an eyebrow and thinking back to the many fights Ethan and Benedict had had over who was going to be the leader of this raid on Fort Ticonderoga.

“My Mountain Boys would not have followed Arnold. It’s not my fault he’s stubborn.” Ethan said in defense. Thirteen laughed softly.

“I’m well aware. The Green Mountain Boys are very loyal. You’re lucky to have them. I’m lucky to have them,” Thirteen said. Ethan looked ecstatic, as most humans tend to do when the land compliments them.

Humans were just as fascinated by countryhumans as countryhumans were with them, huh?

“I hope we can live up to your expectations, America,” Ethan said. Thirteen smiled.

“I’m sure you will,” He said before looking back out over the river, biting his lip as he noticed the boat still hadn’t arrived. Hopefully, they hadn’t been caught, although Thirteen couldn’t imagine why they would have. After all, the conflict between his father and him had been contained to Massachusetts. Who was expecting a bunch of “rebels” at Fort Ticonderoga?

‘Don’t get cocky though. Who knows how paranoid we’ve made the British?’

‘That’s not helpful.’

Trying to push aside his anxiety, Thirteen began fidgeting with his buttons. His father hated it when he did that, so it was very satisfying to do it when he wasn’t around, as Thirteen’s own little personal act of rebellion—a very safe kind of rebellion. It was something that Thirteen would still be able to do even if this all came crashing down around him.

Thirteen could only hope everything comes to a resolution soon. He hated feeling this conflicted, feeling like he was being pulled in two different directions, each side with its own appeal and draw.

Maybe Thirteen shouldn't have come here-

Thirteen quickly cut off that thought. It was too late to turn back now, so having second thoughts wasn’t an option. 

No matter what happens today, he can’t abandon the Green Mountain Boys and Benedict Arnold. Thirteen promised them he would help. Thirteen came all this way with Arnold. Thirteen watched as he struggled to recruit people and persevered regardless. Even if, in the end, he wasn't the lead commander like he wanted to be, he was still here with us.

Thirteen can’t just leave them here, even if he felt like freezing up at the thought of what his father would do once he found out about this.

‘And it’s too late to pretend to be human unless you want everyone else finding out what you look like.’

‘Even if he did, he’s darker than most people of English decent.’

‘He’s still a proper color.’

‘And it doesn't matter how pale he is. Humans don't get to know our human face.’

‘Boat’s here. It’s time to go.’

That thought snapped Thirteen out of his internal argument and confusion over his appearance. Thirteen turned his head towards the water, where he could see that the boat was indeed waiting.

“There’s not enough for us to all go at once, so we’ll have to go across in two groups.” the man on the boast said. Thirteen stepped forward, watching as some of the men seemed to part at his approach.

“I’m going first,” Thirteen said, hoping that just getting involved would help him ignore the pain caused by the divisive opinions tearing at his mind.

At least this wasn’t a civil war. England had told Thirteen plenty of horror stories about them, and Thirteen was not eager to ever be a part of something like that. Although he’s not a country, nor does he have any plans of becoming one, so that’s at least a problem he doesn’t have to worry about.

Climbing into the boat, Thirteen watched as others joined his until about eighty people, if not more, were in the boat. Silence fell across the boat as they pushed off, heading towards the fort, as no one wanted to be the person who made them lose the element of surprise. 

Well, Thirteen thought to himself, There’s no going back now. 

At least Thirteen could be comforted by the fact that this would piss off England.

…Maybe he had spent too much time with Ireland and Scotland in the past two decades. Although it wasn't his fault that his father and England were always too busy to see him or talk to him and just left Thirteen to his own devices as long as he wasn’t being a disappointment or doing things they deemed ‘inappropriate for someone of your standing.’

For absent parents, they sure did have a lot of rules. But that was the caveat that allowed Thirteen to have as many freedoms as he did. 

‘It kind of seems more like bribery, looking back on it. If you are perfect and act just like we want you to, then you get to be left alone and not have us breathing down your neck like we did when you were just Jamestown.’

When I was Jamestown, I needed to be fixed. I am fine now, they fixed me. Now, they don’t need to watch me constantly and can leave me alone. Thirteen reasoned. 

‘Stop lying to yourself.’

Sometimes, arguing with himself felt a lot like arguing with another person. That’s when Thirteen decided it was a more effective use of his time to suppress those memories and thoughts and throw himself into the task. Work was always an effective distraction from the overwhelming memories of the past. 

So that’s what Thirteen did. He pushed aside his thoughts and just focused on what he was doing. 

Disembarking the boat.

Regrouping with everyone and watching the boat leave for the second group of soldiers

Realizing that they would lose the element of surprise because the boat was taking too long with the second group.

Then, they decided that all eighty-four men were enough to take the fort, as waiting for the rest of the soldiers might not end well for them. After all, their main advantage was the element of surprise. Even if they had all our men here, they weren’t winning a battle against a heavily armed fort. They would probably be lucky if they won against them here. 

Thirteen’s people were a militia force facing a professional military base. Some of them probably had very little training, and others had little combat experience.

They weren't a force meant to besiege a fort. They were a force praying to God that they would be blessed with luck.

Thirteen was going to lie to himself–

‘That’s new.’

Shut up, me, Thirteen thought. He couldn’t even be nervous without his thoughts refusing to listen to him. Thirteen wondered if this was normal in divided lands, for your own thoughts to turn against you.

Or maybe he really was insane, just like his father and England always said he was, back when he was younger, not as big, conflicted, or divided.

This probably isn’t the best time to think about this, Thirteen thought as he returned his focus to the back of the man in front of him as the two approached the fort. As Thirteen was not in the front of the group, he couldn’t see everything happening very well, but they entered the fort, and someone ripped open the door to the barracks.

“Wait! I surrender!” Thirteen heard someone call from inside. He exchanged a surprised look with the man beside him. Thirteen couldn’t believe it. The soldiers had just surrendered without a fight, without bloodshed! It was everything they hoped for and everything they thought they were not going to get. 

This was amazing!

Fort Ticonderoga was Thirteen’s now. They won. They captured a military force from the hands of soldiers, and they did so with ease.

His father would not be happy about this.

And Thirteen couldn’t really bring himself to care. 

[mikodrawnnarratives]

Guess who missed Aromantic & Arospec Awareness week...

Well at least I remain in character

I wanted to post this despite most of these being pretty sloppy with sketches and some coloring cause I didn't want to get too far away from the week b4 posting. OH and I drew the Bellusromantic plagg almost a year ago but never posted it, he cuddles with the flagg Adrien got him.

Adrien wishes he could get a pic but kwami's don't show up on camera so :p

Anyway more about thoughts about art below + JOTG lore:

It is so weird to draw Tikki and Plagg with accurate to canon designs. ESPECIALLY plagg, with how much I draw the redesigned versions of them. Lmk if any of you want to see beginning ideas for tikki redesign cause she was a RIDE and in the end I settled back to something closer to the og

Anyway, Tikki and Plagg are aromantic fight me. Or at the very least are in my au, though in my thing they go many hundreds of years never labelling it. Plagg doesn't mind the label, he does insist to Adrien there should be a cheese romantic one too. The worst part is Adrien knows some people would agree with plagg

Tikki doesn't really label how she feels, she simply doesn't feel romantic attraction and human labels don't interest her. (But she's still here cause I mean) I also experimented with a human design for tikki briefly

You ask what Tikki and Plagg's relationship is in my au then? I'd say pretty much queer platonic or really really close buds bonded for life.

Mina ashido now counts as my first Mha art posted online, with some hopefully coming soon. It is out of place among miraculous but I HAD to include the cupioromantic queen!!

And alix is a no brainer honestly, too bad I didn't get more time to fully render her, maybe I will be able to some time in the future

[lotusbxtch]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you to sweet @luxurychristmaspudding @nerdieforpedro and @alltheirdamn for tagging me! sorry it took so long for me to do this.

1. how many works do you have on AO3?

7 but i have more coming!

2. what's your total AO3 word count?

18.2k approx

3. what fandoms do you write for?

PPCU and OICU

4. top five fics by kudos (notes) ooh i'll do this by AO3 and Tumblr because the differences are interesting! (for AO3 I will also list hits)

AO3:

the best ride in the galaxy - 29 kudos / 788 hits

lightning of the blaze - 20 kudos / 1,281 hits (LOL)

don't ruin this on me - 13 kudos / 239 hits

sunlight - 10 kudos / 219 hits

and i lost you - 10 kudos / 180 hits

Tumblr:

the best ride in the galaxy - 291 notes

sunlight - 199 notes

SoCal to NorCal ch. 1 - 155 notes

the best ride in the galaxy pt. 2 - 143 notes

and i lost you - 101 notes

5. do you respond to comments?

yes i do! i love interacting. i don't often get asks but those are open for commentary / requests!

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

it's a tie between "and i lost you" and don't ruin this on me.

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

i generally write happy endings for most of my fics! my series aren't done yet, but i think SoCal to NorCal is going to be an almost entirely happy fic series. :)

8. do you get hate on fics?

not yet, although someone on ao3 told me they didn't like making fun of poe at the ending of TBRITG and i'm like, but POE would make fun of himself lol

9. do you write smut?

.... do i ever. ;) it's legit my favorite thing to write!

10. craziest crossover:

probably SoCal to NorCal. Joel is the husband and Frankie is the boyfriend in the throuple.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that I'm aware of!

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

not yet!

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

no, but @for-a-longlongtime and i just talked about collaborating on one in the future.......

14. all time favorite ship?

fic ships? Tim x Javi P x Mai in Let Me Get What I Want

show/movie ships? frankie x santi. if they don't make them a couple in TF2 (whenever it comes out, hopefully), idk what the point even is lol.

15. what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

i have a dbf!cowboy!Joel x afab!Reader fic idea that i would loooooove to write but between SoCal to NorCal and some other WIPs i have going on, it might be awhile before that one sees the light of day.

16. what are your writing strengths?

smut - it flows pretty freely for me. i also love writing feelings!

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

i will often get stuck before starting writing because i have this desire to write everything in order in one go instead of just writing parts to get the juices flowing. blame my perfectionism.

18. thoughts on dialogue in another language besides your own?

i dig it, as long as it's translated well and you're consulting with others.

19. first fandom you wrote in?

Star Wars, specifically Poe! TBRITG was my first foray into fic writing!

20. favorite fic you've written?

i haven't written it in full yet ;) but probably my SoCal to NorCal series. it means the most to me (the idea was the one that convinced me to start writing fanfic) and i'm really excited to show y'all how Reader, Joel, and Frankie all interact. (plus, the Santi feature in ch 1 was SO FUN.)

NP tagging some lovelies: @mermaidgirl30 @penvisions @mountainsandmayhem @milkypompon @legendary-pink-dot

@for-a-longlongtime @sin-djarin @dancingtotuyo @casgrandslam

[captorcorp]

ok im rambling about my thoughts on tadc bc i have many (long post)

ok first of all general character opinions with walk cycle gifs to break up the walls of text (gifs from here):

caine: the silly guy... literally why red recommended this to me was the digital world setting + an ai character and they know me too well because every ai character is my favorite by default. i'm very excited to see what we end up learning about him throughout the series, also i absolutely love that he was inspired by AM from ihnmaims but 'if he was a silly little guy instead of fueled by hate' or whatever the creator said about him. his weird head design is really creative though it does discomfort me a bit sometimes, something about the combination of eyes and teeth;;; still think he's kinda tumblr sexyman coded besides the teeth head but most people are too distracted with objectifying jax so he gets a pass

pomni: she's cool!! it's hard to form a solid view of her so far bc most of what we've seen is her being understandably overwhelmed with and O.O at everything, but she seems like she'll be a pretty interesting protag - i liked them showing her moments of weakness with leaving ragatha behind too. that being said i think she stretched out the 'omg this isn't real what's going on???' freaking out bits way too long but that's just a personal gripe with that sorta stuff in media like this. if i was isekai'd into the digital circus i would simply be so chill about it after only 5 minutes of panic. rip to pomni but i'm different /j oh yeah also a fun character design even though i don't really like clowns she's just very Shaped

jax: motherfucker. jk i actually don't feel that strongly about him i just find him slightly annoying at times. at first i thought 'oh ok he's a loveable asshole yeah he's kinda entertaining so he's cool' and then he just ended up being more asshole than loveable. also thought he was sexyman coded and was unfortunately right this time ^^; apparently he's the creator's fave too?? so hopefully he doesn't get away with too much stuff without consequences, or he's gotta actually get some positive traits yknow. however i do love his design with the big grin and semicircle eyes and etc, very cartoony and fun. if the controversial blorbo poll was still open i would submit him bc it seems like the fandom is split on him. but also kinda tired of him from fandom overexposure

ragatha: she's really nice and i want to be her friend - looking forward to seeing where her character goes in the future though, bc we've only seen her being polite and forgiving and sweet and etc, and i think she should be allowed to kill people /hj. it was cool seeing her get glitched too even if ;-;. i was never into raggady ann stuff like i've heard the creator is but her design is still cute too, even if less surreal than some of the others ^^

bubble: keep forgetting this guy exists, not a huge fan tbh? gets some points for being another ai though. looks like a chain chomp. i do like that they're able to be popped and respawn though, that's a fun quirk. the scene with them cleaning up after pomni is p gross

kinger: i barely thought about this guy during the pilot tbh so was surprised to see the fandom all adoring him. kinda just reminds me of fear from inside out. but actually overexposure of him from tumblr and other people enjoying him kinda made him grow on me a bit (reverse of what has been happening w jax). he's pretty cool to me now. i can't believe fandom already gave him a tragic backstory with that queen chesspiece we see crossed out...

zooble: another character i didn't really think about, though i like their design and detachable body parts and such. i also couldn't really get a good sense of their personality tbh? i think they just need more screentime honestly

gangle: i wanted to like her a lot more than i did when i first saw her bc her design is very fun, with the ribbon-based body and comedy/tragedy masks and etc. but ended up not getting too interested in her as a character. but i think she's in the same category as zooble where she needs more screen time and character development though? bc she still seems like she could be cool if her personality gets explored more

thoughts on the overall pilot:

ngl i have a whole bunch of gripes about it despite also rotating it in my mind. i feel like a lot of the characters are a little 1-dimensional currently, even if i do find those dimensions appealing for the most part, hoping they get more characterization in the actual main season though. also most of the pacing/jokes didn't really land for me or felt a bit forced, though there were some good bits like king's hands following zooble's head, pomni opening doors to surreal scenes like the bathing mannequin, jax getting choked by zooble's hand, the randomly generated 5-letter names, also any of the cartoony imagery gags like the censor bars or cartoon dust cloud of gloinks.

however, overall i enjoyed it still!!! all of the animation has so much charm and character to it, surreal semi-human character designs are always great, it's very colorful and bright and reminiscent of old early 2000s activity center games, etc. it gives me kinda 'welcome home' vibes, with both being bright and cheery exteriors meant to mimic old media style that mask darker stuff under the surface. also the general plot of like. people being trapped in this weird setting and forced to participate in fucked up (?) games by some mysterious mastermind (well we know who the mastermind is but not much about him) while struggling to escape or understand why they've been trapped here... very common plot but always is intriguing to me. also of course [holds digital worlds and ais in my hands] my beloved tropes...

thoughts on the fandom:

i am. concerned. that there seems to be an overlap with the h*zb*n h*t*l fandom;; but also i don't know anything about that show's status besides like. callout posts about the creator and people complaining about the pacing/character designs and etc. so i don't really know if all of the hh fans is bc it's like, also an animated series that appeals to the same audience? or if it's going to be too similar or inspired from it or also have a problematic creator somehow 😔

otherwise it's whatever, maybe a bit on the :I side bc i already saw someone make a y*nd*r* jax imagine post and it scared me hjkdfs. otherwise mostly just usual fandom stuff i think? dunno.

actually nevermind i just got back from twitter and apparently the creator is already feeling :/ about their own fandom and apparently people on tiktok are hcing some fucked up stuff about jax so. can fans be normal for 2 seconds please.

[toplesstopics]

So longtime friend of the Topless Topics community mrich (as we all know him by) and I have been tossing around a #podcast idea for a while (I know, I know…this one will be good though, I promise ;p) and I could use y'alls help in solidifying the concept before we jump in to making it.

Basically, the thought is to provide two different but respectful opinions on a variety of subjects--I'm a cis white woman "coastal elite" from California, he's a cis black man from the South, and we're both #progressive #leftists and huge nerds (especially #gaming !) We're also both #normalizeNudity (and of course #freeTheNipple / #topless #equality ) supporters, raised #nudist / #naturist though I reject the specific label these days (I got a whole video about it at toplesstopics.org/nomorenudism if you're curious), and #sexPositive - I'm #bisexual and #polyamorous , he's straight and monogamous, but totally cool with other models, as long as it's all #consensual . We also (so many commonalities!) are both quite #artistic - he's mainly into #portrait #photography while I'm into #illustration both #digitalIllustration and #traditionalIllustration .

While we're still figuring out the structure of the podcast, the idea is to have a few somewhat disparate sections to it - gaming/ #comics / #cosplay /etc, then brief reaction to current #politics / #news (like #feminism , #LGBTQ , #racialJustice , anti- #capitalism , and so much more), and (hopefully) an interview with someone interesting ( #sexWorker , #activist , #artist , etc…whoever we can find that seems like they'd be a good fit for the pod! Then finally, maybe an "ask us anything" advice/reaction section to round out the episode.

I'm thinking we aim for <= 2 hours, one episode per month, but if we really get into it, maybe an episode every other week. I'm still gonna have to edit it and I have a lot else on my plate so I don't want to overextend myself too much. If we happen to stumble into wild success maybe I could hire someone else to do that part in the future, then we could record more often :p

On some subjects, of course I will defer to his expanded first-hand experience, like #racialInequality . And on other subjects, it'll be mostly my turn to step onto the soapbox, namely about what it's like to be a woman in this #misogynist #sexist world. We've chatted for many hours over the years and always gotten along swimmingly, so I don't anticipate undue friction in the longterm (a benefit of having so many like-minded opinions already). But I still think we have enough difference in life experiences to provide an interesting perspective on a variety of topics.

What do you think? Does any of that seem interesting to you? What kinds of things / people to interview would you like to see on a podcast created by a pair of different similar leftist nerds? Would you listen to such a podcast? Please, lay your feedback on me! All replies welcome, as long as you're not being a total jerk ❤️

[tadpolesonalgae]

Hey tabby! Just read your poly batboys vampire fic. The mercy devil one. AND OH MY GOD DID IT HOOK ME!?!? I LITERALLY CANT GET IT OUT OF MY HEAD IT WAS JUST SOOOOOOOO GOOD LIKE AMAZINGGGGGGGG. SO WILL BE THERE BE A PART 3 FOR IT. Like ik you have closed requests right now but in the near future will you consider writing it???

Well I’ve actually been intending to work on it for a while so that’s lucky timing! I was updating a few series that I’d kind of forgotten about and both Mercy, Devil and His P. A. are fics I’m looking to add another part to!!

I’ve got some ideas gathered for a part three of Mercy, Devil, as well as some of it already written, so hopefully another instalment is on the horizon! Thank you so much for reading it and expressing interest!! It helps so much with giving writers the energy and enjoyment to add more 😭🧡💛

[coyoxxtl]

https://www.tumblr.com/coyoxxtl/726754829755678720/does-anyone-have-legit-criticisms-about-aotd-or?source=share

The only criticism I have honestly, is the retcon of them learning to be better people in Doomstar. But it's a continuity thing for me.

You guys finally learned to do something kind for others towards the end of that movie but you went back to being assholes to your fans again AOTDS?

The same thing that got ya'll into this mess in the first place?

Also, my expectations were a little bit blindsided by what they would do here.

I was expecting more lore about Murderface here and maybe some diving into their past as Dethklok was starting, but it's nothing too bad.

i still need to rewatch aotd several more times its not embedded in my head yet so i wouldn’t consider my thoughts and crits Completely formed

mmbut i wouldn’t necessarily call that a retcon, bc i don’t consider that lesson to be fully Learned in doomstar requiem? what they learned, mostly, is that they’re a family and YES they actually care about each other. and that’s not even something they didn’t know but they consistently deny it, and don’t take that love seriously enough to express it in any meaningful way. and thats just amongst themselves, they still didn’t learn to rid their harbored resentment for their fans, who they infamously hate and barely consider people. to me this movie was literally about the continuing the lesson from the first movie, they learned to care about each other now they have to extend that out to their fans. im p sure this is what the whole “open hand” thing is about, also why the fans were the army of the doomstar all along, dethklok is now a part of them, not against them.

also, personally i think there was just enough Murderface, his whole possession deal was around for as long as it needed to, and their connection with him afterwards was very sweet, “but you can’t even hear the bass” ”but you can always feel it” was so beautiful it stuck w me lol

like ofc i can always appreciate more lore and backstory but i consider that fanservice and wasn’t something i was seriously expecting to be included because every second of this movie needed to be dedicated to wrapping up the story. i don’t doubt brandon small and the other show runners wanted to do more and give us the fun extra juicy bits but i can tell they written the movie to be tight with nothing wasting narrative space. the lame thing about being a creative is knowing when something is unnecessary for the story even if it’s interesting. i heard that brandon small is thinking about continuing metalocalypse so hopefully we get to see stuff like that in the future i want that too😭