#i believe this proves i've only gotten worse

[ineffectualdemon]

Summary of the whole Colleen Ballinger situation

I am not someone who watches a lot of YouTubers especially not a lot of original YouTubers but I do occasionally watch drama videos about people I have never watched because I'm a nosy bitch who likes gossip

But the Colleen Ballinger situation is so much more than drama. I've been following it since it blew up three weeks ago and here is the summary of the situation if you're interested

Three years ago when he was 17 YouTuber Adam McIntyre made a video calling out Colleen for running a behind the scenes smear campaign against him and briefly touched on the fact that she had an inappropriate relationship with him which included sending him underwear when he was 13

She made an "apology" video and won the sympathy vote and he was harassed by her fans and generally not believed for 3 years

3 weeks ago another YouTuber named Kodee put out a video proving that they worked with Colleen behind the scenes to smear Adam and came out with a lot more proof that Colleen was being very inappropriate with minors in a private group chat. A lot of which was her asking Adam things like what his favourite sex position was when he was 15. (Side note: Kodee is a whole thing on their own) Adam at age 20 has realised she used him as unpaid labour and groomed him

Adam, while not ready for this stuff to be out there, decided to advocate for himself and shared more proof. Partly because he was relieved to have been finally vindicated. He is now 20 and realising fully how messed up her behaviour was to him and wants to defend past him

All this coming out has led to other former fans that Colleen, her friend Kory, and her brother have been inappropriate with, groomed, abused, or sexualised as children coming forward to share their stories and how they are just now, as they reach adulthood, realising how traumatic a lot of that stuff was

There are a lot of accusations and they have gotten progressively worse

Adam sought out therapy to help him process all this trauma he had kept hidden out of shame only for the world to find out (remember he didn't bring most of the inappropriate sexual comment stuff forward initially. Kodee did)

Colleen is silent for 3 weeks as this all goes down

Last night she releases a video on her 3rd channel titled "hi." Where she pulls out a fucking ukulele and sings a silly little song about how everyone is lying and tried to turn it around and make herself the victim. She's not a groomer! Just a loser! And yeah she did talk to kids in group chats and overshare but she wasn't creepy about it! She promises! While providing 0 proof to defend herself

It goes down exactly as you would expect

And that's where things stand rn

It's a fucking mess

I really feel for the victims especially Adam

The one good thing to come out of all of this is from my perspective is it has led to some very important conversations in my house with my teenager about parasocial relationships, internet safety, and appropriate boundaries

[luvsunarin]

[ megumi fushiguro x fem!reader ] ෴ IN WHICH⠀your roommate tries to convince you to join her band.

warnings・CORNY CORNY CORNY. i wrote this at 3 in the morning and did not proof read or edit this so my apologies if it makes no sense LOL

wc・1.1k || short read lolz. p2 mayb!?

APART OF⠀⠀𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓. BAND AUS [ the collection ]

you laid on your arm chair in the living room with your head resting on the arm rest, while your legs dangled over the armrest on the opposite side of the small couch meanwhile your roommate sat on the floor in front of you while some of her band mates sat on the couch and some on the floor.

"c'mon y/n! we need a drummer, and you're the perfect option!" nobara pleaded you.

"look nobara, i'm truly flattered but i don't know." you sighed and shrugged.

"why not? didn't you tell me you used to be in a band in high school with megumi at one point?" she glanced between the two of you.

your eyes widened for a subtle second, "no? i never told you that." you told her and squinted at megumi.

"well then megumi did! he said that you were the drummer and that you played like no one else." she repeated his words dramatically which made megumi roll his eyes.

"didn't i tell you to not bring that up?" he scoffed.

"desperate times call for desperate measures." itadori reasoned with a shrug.

"well he's being dramatic. i really was an average drummer. our lead singer would always get mad at me 'cause i'd constantly fuck up during practices."

"yet you played flawlessly at shows." megumi added, staring at you intensely.

"what?" you furrowed your eyebrows at him.

"you rarely played good at practice but whenever it came to shows, you played perfectly." he said. "oh but ya know, it has been a while so i understand if you got even worse." a smirk formed on his features.

you raise an eyebrow at him and send him a brief glare, which he returned.

itadori cleared his throat and stared between the two of you who were staring very intensely at each other then glanced at nobara. "maybe this isn't such a good idea–"

"no, you know what? i'll do it." you scoffed.

they all went wide-eyed, "what?!"

"i'll be your drummer," you specified. "then i'll prove to fushiguro that i've only gotten better at drumming."

itadori and nobara's bright features dropped when you said that, "seriously? just for competition?"

"nah. she's just saying that 'cause she misses playing the drums. and she misses being in a band with me." megumi teased.

you scoffed, "in your dreams."

"yeah, i dreamt about it every night so much to the point it became reality."

your features relaxed and you adjusted your legs on the arm chair, "whatever."

"i'll let our manager know then!" nobara cleared her throat, breaking the awkward silence that grew upon them and she pulled out her phone. "gojo'll be thrilled."

"seriously? megumi's dad is the manager of this band too?" you stiffled your laughter.

"he's not my dad–"

"yet he's changed your diapers more than toji ever did." you cut him off and shrugged.

he scoffed, "whatever."

nobara clicked on gojo's contact and pressed call. "gojo, you won't believe it!"

you heard gojo's muffled voice through the phone, "what? wait, let me guess– you got y/n to be your drummer?"

"yup! she said she's only doing it to prove to fushiguro that she's still an amazing drummer but i know that's bullshit." nobara whispered followed by a chuckle.

"i heard that kugisaki." you called out.

itadori rushed over to the phone as well, "yup, they probably miss each other a lot." he whispered.

"you guys are right in front of us." megumi pointed out.

the other three rolled their eyes. three because you just know that gojo rolled his eyes as well. "fine then we'll go somewhere you can't hear us!" they made their way to the kitchen and continued to gossip there with gojo.

which left you and megumi.

the silence wasn't awkward. the air felt stuffy but not awkward. however you broke the silence by asking megumi a question, "do you seriously think i'm the best drummer or were you over-exaggerating 'cause you missed being in a band with me?" you teased as a smirk tugged on your lips.

megumi clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes, "are you seriously joining the band because you wanna prove to me you're still the best drummer or 'cause you missed being in a band with me?" he mocked you.

you thought for a moment, "neither. i miss playing the drums." you told him confidently.

"i'm heart broken, really." he said dramatically. "you didn't miss me?"

"sure i did," you chuckled at him. "i missed throwing my drum sticks at your head before a show."

"i'd always keep it in my pocket during the show for goodluck."

"aw, was i your good luck charm?" you mocked him and laughed.

"you could say that if it makes you happy." he rolled his eyes.

"nah, i'd rather think of it that you had my drum stick in your pocket so that you could always have a reminder that i'm putting you under pressure." you looked at him.

he laughed softly, "i'd prefer the good luck thing."

"i wouldn't. if i kept one of your guitar strings in my pocket, i'd pressure myself to play ten times better." you spoke, "but then again, you don't like being put under pressure. so i see why you prefer the good luck thing." you smirked at him.

he looked at you weirdly while a smile subconsciously snuck onto his features, "i'd put myself under pressure for you."

"gross," you looked at him with a playfully disgusted look. "that's corny."

"it was a joke asshole," he shook his head. "hey but didn't you notice that i played better with your drumstick in my pocket than when i didn't?"

"under pressure."

"whatever." he sighed. "i'm glad you joined the band." he told you, changing the topic.

you hummed, "oh yeah? so you did miss being in a band with me." you confirmed.

"whatever helps you sleep at night. you sleep deprived fuck."

you looked at him playfully offended, "sleep deprived fuck?" you repeated his words. "i can't believe you."

"sure y/n. remind me of how many hours of sleep you get?"

"too far buddy, too far," you joked followed by a laugh. "anyway, how have you been?"

"better now that you joined the band." he smirked.

"oh? so you really missed me?" you joked.

"yeah," he finally admitted. "i didn't just miss being in a band with you but i missed you." he added.

you stared at him, "oh yeah? i missed you too actually." you admitted as well.

"sure you did. wasn't i the reason you left our old band?"

"well now you're the reason i'm joining your new one." you chuckled, "you gotta quit doing that– letting the past interfere with the future."

he sighed in defeat, "so you did miss me, huh?"

"oh shut up." you gave in and smiled.

﹫heartshapedjewls' work! do not copy! || xtra words frm jules: im contemplating whether or not i should make a prt2 butttt idk... MORE BAND AUS TO COMEEE!! im so excited to write for star treatment 🫂. anyway have a good day yall, and stay hydrated!

[notroosterbradshaw]

Number 3 - Instinctively pressing your hands against your lover's cheek as they passionately rave, only for them to stop talking and gape, completely distracted by the lack of distance.

I have no doubts you're going to kill it!

- XOXO Star

I haven't intentionally been sitting on this, I've just had a year and I'm sorry it's taken so long to get back to this, Star. I'm sure you've forgotten about it but thank you for submitting it:

Number 3 - Instinctively pressing your hands against your lover's cheek as they passionately rave, only for them to stop talking and gape, completely distracted by the lack of distance.

From Meaningful Gestures Prompts.

You sat perfectly still from your spot on the kitchen bench, wine in hand as Bradley ranted about a training run maneuverer from earlier in the day that easily could have gotten someone injured... or worse. He rarely brought his work home with him, but the last few weeks with Maverick returning to his life... it'd been a very different story.

"And then, he has the gall, the fuckin' gall, to ask Phoenix where Mav is hiding," he laughed in spite of it all. The anger that seeped through his rasp made you quake to try and calm him, but you knew it was fruitless until he got it all out.

"What did she say?" you asked, taking a dubious sip, watching his hard body in motion, tense in his agitation. You took all the steps you knew he needed to get through before he'd see any reason and tried to ignore how sexy he was when gruff, flight suit wrapped around his waist, the stench of the day's sweat still drifting from him, muscles taut from the punishment he'd put it through that day. Lactic acid building up as he had missed the gym to rush to his friends' sides.

He paused and licked back a grin, trying to deny his humour. "That she was dead and called him a dickhead."

"Well, Phoenix can't be accused of not having a quick whip of the tongue," you reckoned and you were so proud of her for giving as good as she got. And it was true - Hangman Seresin was a dickhead. She couldn't be accused of misinformation.

"But then it all went haywire, baby. I can't believe I get to say that she and Bob survived this," he pressed his palms into the edge of the bench top, knuckles white with anger and leaned over the bench, head dipped in sorrow. You gently took his cheeks in your warm hands and brought his gaze to yours. He sighed, his body edging towards you and resting between your thighs, his strong torso pressing against yours and you tangled your legs around him, not letting him get free for anything, waiting anxiously for him to melt against you.

"She and Bob are okay, baby. They've got the scare of a lifetime and angels on their shoulders, but they're okay. They will be released in the morning and probably have more to prove than ever before."

"How do you always know the right thing to say?" he looked up at you as he eased his big hands around your ribs, searching your face as perspective started to come him.

"Fluke," you told him as he couldn't resist the way his lip quirked, a slow smile coming to his face. "So tomorrow, you get up in the air and blow Hangman outta the sky. Make him the example, okay?"

Bradley nodded. "I don't think I'll have to, Phoenix 'n Bob will have him deep in their sights," he said, breathing deep.

"She loves a good grudge."

"She really does."

"Like someone else I know."

He made a face. "Don't start on Mav again, okay?"

"I'm not, I'm not," you told him softly, kissing between his brows, smoothing the lines with your lips as they calmed under your touch. "You don't need me to remind you he's your commanding officer and if you want to be picked for this mission - which I really wish you would renege on - you have to find a common ground for him or else you're no better than Hangman, okay?"

He nodded, staring intently into your eyes. "You're right, I know."

"I'm always right," you told him as he rolled his eyes and kissed you momentarily. He was interrupted by his phone pinging and he checked the message, relief evident on his handsome features. He showed you the words from Phoenix, telling him he'd better bring his A-game tomorrow because she and Bob were not going to let a blip like letting a bird strike ruin their intent to fly the mission. "Looks like you don't need to fight her battles, huh?"

"Nope," he grinned, a little proudly. "She'd blow me away even if I tried."

"Then you had better get your head right and worry about you because if I know Nat, she's not concerned about your grudges and only concerned about how she gets her and Bob on this team."

He nodded and kissed you. "You're right. You're always so fuckin' right."

"You knew this long before you married me, flyboy."

He giggled quietly. "S'pose so."

"And you're welcome."

"Wish you were up there with us..." he confided, so sweetly. And for a millisecond, you agreed with him and with the cry through the baby monitor beside you, you grinned. "Got something else to keep my feet planted firmly on the ground these days, thanks, Lieutenant Bradshaw."

He gave you that smug look of satisfaction when you teased his rank. "I'll go," Bradley whispered, wanting to see his baby girl for the first time today and he let you let go of him to head down the hallway to the nursery.

"You're a good man, Bradley Bradshaw," you said after him as he looked back with a wink over his shoulder before disappearing from your view and you'd never tell him how scared you were for him, because he didn't need the to compound the stress he was already under. You would only pray he came home safely, he had more to live for than ever before.

[rjmartin11]

Faded Love: Part Three

Pairing: Elvis & female!reader

Summary: After finding out about Elvis infidelity, you decide to have one final decision before you walk out the door for good.

Word Count: ???

Warnings: Confession time, talks of pregnancy, Smut

Author's Notes: Welcome to the final act.

・ʚ♡ɞ・💙・ʚ♡ɞ・

You hang up the phone, and Elvis' heart drops. He's lost you. A tear trickles down his cheek as he hangs up the phone. He calls off the search as you asked, and everything goes quiet.

Elvis goes up to his room to reflect on his life and on you. He kneels in front of the window to pray to God for clarity and guidance, but most of all forgiveness. He wants you back so badly he'd do anything.

"God, I love her," he weeps. "I need a miracle, Lord. Bring her back to me, and I'll never ever screw up again. I'll mend each and every promise I've broken to have her back in my arms. I'll be faithful. I'll pledge my undying love to her and only her. She's the love of my life. Please, Lord."

Elvis collapses on the floor in tears, curling up in the fetal position. Elvis waits for some sort of miracle to happen. He doesn't know what to expect, but he'll wait. He will wait for you.

.....

On the other side of the line, you sit with a cool compress on your head and a heating pad on your tummy. You believe the stress from everything has brought you to this point. You've had break-ups before, but nothing like this. Your stomach is knots, and you feel queezy.

"Y/N?" Sharon starts. "You feeling any better."

"I feel so strange," you answer slowly. "This stress on my body is... I don't know. I just think it would be best if Elvis and I distanced ourselves from one another. He needs to find out what he wants."

"What if he wants you?" Sharon questions. "Are you still going to ask him for a divorce?"

"Yes."

You take a deep breath as you speak. Why do you feel nauseous? You begin to question everything that led to this. Did you eat something bad? Is this a realization and the result of an unfit union?

"Y/N, have you vomited again?" Sharon asks.

"Once, after I hung up the phone with him. I ran straight to the bathroom. It just seems like it's gotten worse over the last couple of days," you admit.

"When did this start?"

"A few weeks ago. On and off a few times. I thought it was stress from Elvis' lack of love for me. That and the roast from the night before."

"Y/N, when was the last time you and Elvis slept together?"

"Three days ago. The day I left him."

"And before that?" Sharon asks.

"A month or so. We made love, and then a few days later, it was like he started to resent me."

"You just start feeling this way?"

"Sharon, what are you getting at?" You ask, rebuking this line of questioning.

Sharon smiles and takes you by the hand. She leads you to the bathroom, placing you in front of the mirror.

"My dearest little sister. You've been sick and moody for a full month. When was the last time you had your period?" Sharon asks.

Your eyes widen as you cover your mouth. You've been so worried about losing Elvis that you didn't realize you skipped your period.

"I... I thought it was stress, Sharon." You say. "I've missed periods before, but I was stressed."

Sharon pulls out a pregnancy test from the bathroom cabinet, handing it to you.

"Let's find out," Sharon says calmly.

.....

Fifteen minutes later...

It only takes ten minutes for you to get an accurate read on a pregnancy test. You are nervous. You can't stop pacing the floor. Your palms are sweaty. Your feet are sore, and your tummy keeps doing flips.

If this test proves you're a mommy. That means Elvis will be a daddy. This changes everything. You want a divorce, yet you want this baby to have both parents. Something you and Sharon didn't have growing up. You have no doubt that Elvis will be a good father. A great father, in fact. He was raised in the home with both his parents. Loving parents who supported him in everything he did. That's what you wanted for your child.

You try to focus on your breath and relax. The last few days have been stressful. If you are pregnant, stress is not good for you.

"Well?" Sharon questions, peeking her head in the door.

"Well, what?" You turn to look at her.

"I'm I going to be an aunt or not?"

You put your hands through your hair and breathe.

"Sharon," you begin with tears in your eyes. "Once I look at the test, my life will forever change.

Sharon slowly walks into the bathroom, placing her hands on your arms she asks you,

"You want me to check for you?"

"I... I... yes... no, don't. Yes, please."

Before you can stop her, Sharon grabs the test off the counter. Her face is blank, giving you no clue as to what the answer is to the questions of the day.

"So???" You breathe and wait with anticipation.

Sharon looks over at you with a small smirk on her face.

"Elvis placed a bun in your oven, Y/N."

"Holy... shit," you breathe a sigh of relief as you place your hands on your stomach.

You are happy, but you are still at a loss for words. This baby isn't just yours, but it's Elvis' as well.

"What am I going to do, Shar?"

"Little sister. You're going home, and you're going to tell Elvis he's going to be a father. I have a feeling he's very sorry. Despite everything that he did. You need to speak to him. Tell him the truth. You can do that much."

Gently, Sharon grabs you and gives you a hug. She does her job as a big sister, comforting you and telling you the truth you try to deny. You are really reluctant to follow her advice, yet you know she's right.

The next day, you borrow Sharon's car to return to Graceland. The drive is only ten miles, but it might as well have been an eternity. Every mile felt like a hundred miles. Your stomach's in knots as you drive through the gates.

Before you go into the house, you say a silent prayer. As if you weren't saying one on your way to Graceland.

"Strength. God, grant me the strength," you whisper as you stand at the front door.

You walk in, not knowing what to expect. You hear Elvis' voice immediately, following his it beyond the kitchen into the Jungle Room. You see all the guys in there as Elvis sings Unchained Melody on the piano.

His voice has always lit a fire deep within your heart and soul. When he sings, Elvis builds a connecting bridge between himself and his fans, and you aren't an exception to that rule. It's part of the reason you love him so much. Your heart swells as Elvis unleashes this beautiful part of himself to everyone in the room. These private singing sessions always made you feel special because it almost seemed that it was all for you.

As Elvis ends the song, you exhale the breath you didn't realize you were holding in. Every eye turns to look at you, and Elvis looks up from his piano.

He loses his breath as he sees the image of you clear in his view. A sight for sore eyes. If you only knew how much he missed you. If you only realized how much he prayed for you in the last week. He wished on every star in the sky that his angel would return to him, and here you are.

Elvis slowly raises from the piano bench. His heart beats out of control, yet he remains composed. He wants to run to you and embrace you. He wants to place soft kisses all over your body, but he doesn't want to scare you away like a timid doe.

"Y/N," Elvis says, his voice as clear as a bell on Sunday morning.

"Hello, Elvis," you reply.

"Gentleman," Elvis announces, his eye never leaving you. "Please give us the room."

They all pile out the room as asked. A few of them pat your shoulders as they pass. It's just you and Elvis alone in the room.

"You're home, baby," he says.

"No, but we need to talk."

"Yes, we do. I... me first, please?" Elvis asks, extending his hand to you.

In good faith, you take his hand. Elvis smiles and walks you to the couch, sitting you both down. He notices a glow about you, and it makes him want to kiss you so badly. But he behaves himself. Good things come to those who wait. He holds your hands in his bigger hands, trembling.

"Baby, I'm so glad you're back. I've missed you. I...I got you something amazing. I hope you like it," he says, pulling a box out of his pocket.

You had a feeling Elvis would do this. Elvis never ever had a problem expressing himself verbally. If he was happy or angry or even hungry. He expressed it. If he was sad or depressed Elvis would tell you and the guys. But for some reason, Elvis could never verbally admit when he was wrong or apologize. He'd buy luxurious gifts to compensate for his wrongdoings. It made you mad.

"For fuck sake, you can't even apologize. Can you? Buying me gifts doesn't make up my what you've done."

"Y/N, I... I give you every fucking thing you could want and you..."

"Stop!" You shout, jumping off the couch. "Elvis, stop. I'm done arguing. I didn't come here to argue. I came here to tell you something and leave."

"I don't want you to leave, Y/N," Elvis says, standing before you. "I have more to say. I can't be without you. You are worth every fight. We need to work this out. Come back home, and things will be different. I promise..."

"Elvis, I'm pregnant," you blurt out.

The look on Elvis' face is unreadable, but you continue talking anyway.

"I can't stay here with you like this. I choose this baby. I don't want to lose him or her because you and I got into an argument about whatever."

Elvis falls to his knees, embracing you in a hug. He kisses your tummy, leaving you speechless. Tears pour from your eyes as you feel his soft lips kiss you. He grabs a fist full of the back of your dress.

"Baby, this is incredible," Elvis says, looking up at you. "I prayed to God that something would link us together. This is it, baby. Don't you see?!"

"Elvis, I... I can't."

Elvis stands up, looking you in your eyes. He touches your damp cheeks, wiping the tears away.

"You can't leave me, baby," Elvis says. "I just want to know one thing, Y/N. Then, if you really want to leave, I-I-I won't stop ya."

"What?" You ask. Caught in his grasp.

"Who's ever gonna love you like me? Huh? You once said that I was it for you. Who gonna kiss your lips like me?"

Elvis softly places a kiss on your lips, and you melt like butter in his arms.

"Y/N, who's gonna kiss your spots for you? Your cheeks? The soft spot on your neck that makes your knees quiver," Elvis whispers as he kisses your neck.

Your eyes roll back as his soft lips place kisses on your neck as his hands slowly travel down your back. Elvis was right. No one would love you like he does. No one will take the time to learn your body the way he has. Elvis has ruined sex for you. No one can touch you the way he can, but you're to obstinate to admit it. If Elvis wants you back, he has to work for you. Yet, he still hasn't said the words to open your heart to him again.

"Baby," Elvis says. "Who knows how to work your pussy like me? How to tune you up and lay you down?"

Elvis sits you down on the couch once more. Bowing in front of you, he tenderly spreads your legs away. He lifts your dress up to expose your panties to him. You try to control your breathing, but it's hitched. You know what's coming.

"Does he notice how wet my panties are?" You wonder to yourself.

You know you're in trouble once he rubs the pad of his thumb over your covered entrance. Your chest heaves as Elvis looks into your eyes. He laces both of his index fingers into your panties, slowly pulling them down your legs.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry, baby," Elvis says. "I'm so damn sorry. I... never meant to hurt you. You are my everything."

And with that beautiful apology, you open your heart and accept all that he gives you. Elvis places his lips to your wet, throbbing clit. You sit back and enjoy the ride Elvis takes you on to erotic pleasure. You feel more sensitive than usual. He lathers his tongue all over your clitorus, making you moan out his name.

He then removes his mouth from you to gaze at your blized out face. You are so beautiful to him. He loves you so much. Without warning, Elvis inserts his middle and ring finger into your wet pussy. Causing you to cry out for him.

"Elvis! Ahh!"

"Baby, no one can ever do to you what I do," Elvis whispers. "You're mine. You'll always be mine, and I'm yours."

"Yes," you moan.

Elvis places his lips back to your clit as his fingers furiously work your sweet spot. It's as if he's singing to your clit as he strums your insides. Your chest heaves as you try to maintain your breathing. The heat at your core is like coals swelling to fire. You scratch his scalp as he brings you to the brink of pleasure.

You cum as you grind softly into his face. Elvis has taken all your strength from you. You couldn't leave even if you wanted to.

Elvis laps up some of your nectar before standing up to take his clothes off. His body's armed and ready for you. His cock is rock hard, aiming to plunge deep within you. He teases your entrance instead of immediately driving his cock into you. This teasing has you squirming with excitement.

"Is this okay?" Elvis asks.

You nod your head with enthusiasm as he lifts your leg and gently pushes into you. You both moan at the sensation of being connected together. Elvis steadies his pace as he pumps in and out of you. You grab onto he firmly. He feels better than the last time. You don't know how, but the passion is more powerful than any other time you've had sex. Maybe it's because you're pregnant, or maybe it's because Elvis means to prove to you that you're the one for him. Either way, you accept it.

You push yourself up into Elvis as he pushes into you, giving as much as you take. You look into each other's eyes, seeing into one another's souls.

"Forgive me, Y/N," Elvis pleads. "Forgive me for all I've done. I love you."

"Y-yes," you stutter out.

"Stay with me and be mine," he whispers, pounding harder into you.

"I will, daddy waddy!" You scream as you cum once more.

Elvis isn't far behind you cumming inside you once more. If you were pregnant before the makeup session, you are now. Elvis wraps you up in his arms, placing kisses on your neck up to your face. You missed this. This high school/honeymoon phase of your relationship. The moments when he was so gentle, kind, and extra loving. He rubs your tummy, causing you to remember that you two are alone.

"We're having a baby, Y/N, baby," Elvis whispers as he kisses your lips.

"We're having a baby, E," you say with a smile on your face.

This moment couldn't be more perfect. And just thinking in eight months, your baby would be in your arms. Life is splendid.

Taglist: @missmaywemeetagain @beeandheroddobsessions @headfullofpresley @everythingpresley @epforeverohyes @vintagepresley @pianginferno @powerofelvis @ab4eva @foreverdolly @searchingforgravity @thatbanditqueen @daffieapple @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @epsgirl @richardslady121 @literally-just-elvis-fics @eptodaytommorwforever @vintageshanny @iloveelvis @dreamingofep @aliypop @littlehoneyposts @msamarican

[lily-orchard-gossip-blog]

Hello hello again! It's good to have you back for a little while! Unfortunately there is a lot of infighting in the critical sphere right now and it's not very fun to follow. And worse still Lily is as smug as ever. People are too invested in who ripped off what, who's disrespecting this or that, they should just be having fun at Lily's expense. That's what Saiscribbles has done, and you can tell how effective it is because Lily has tried every strategy in the book to prove how not mad she is.

You know what?

I think I would like to poke fun at the whole thing. I mean, it's sounds like she's gotten a bit ridiculous since I've been gone. (Ridiculous sounds like an understatement, thought.)

I've done serious and it's exhausting. You can only take her serious for so long before you realize she doesn't really even know or believe what she's saying.

As for the fighting, well... It's a shame, but let's try to focus on what's at the core of this blog: Gossiping about Lily.

...But I do have one thing I want to get off my chest, so I will mention it here and then move on. It is under the read bar just so those who don't care can ignore it.

I do have one thing to say about the drama, and that's about Ethel.

They are a liar liar pants on fire.

Seriously, I watched Evangeline Skovs video, which was one of the better coverages on the subject and there was no plagiarism. Not even of me, and I was a source!

Never mind that fact that Ethel legit lied about my blog in their rebuttal, claiming that Levi couldn't find anything on my blog about their video, or glade, so Evangeline was lying.

Their proof? Levi used the search bar, used the word minor and glade, and nothing came up except one post...

Fun fact: I'm bad at tagging things, and my search bar is kind of useless because of that.

(Side note: why would I use glade's name? Why would I want to draw attention to someone who I assumed wanted to be left alone? I'm pretty sure that was made clear in the video.)

Anyway, if you used my archive you could easily find TONES of posts from me talking about the video in question with details.

Here's one that Ethel conveniently left out:

And you know what's hilarious about that? They reblogged this take to try and rebuke it on their tumblr. (That they have long since abandoned.)

I decided to ignore it, because obviously I'm not going to try and get in a fight with them, and Ethel was so mad by that they messaged me directly to try and threaten me with legal jargon.

So I blocked them.

But hey, since I'll probably never bother with this again, here are the messages. Enjoy old drama from like...2 years ago:

Image text here:

[Okay, I've put this off for as long as possible, but please, read this case study as right now you are parroting harmful legal advice. Victim testimony not only constitutes evidence, but can be sufficient evidence to convict, a fact that was tested in Commonwealth v Gustavo Gonzalez Santos in Massachusetts.

I’ll highlight two relevant sections in case you don’t have the time to read the entire thing: “The defendant's sole argument on appeal is that the evidence was not sufficient to support his convictions. The defendant asserts that "there were no witnesses to the alleged assaults," "no physical evidence," "no medical or forensic evidence," and "no expert testimony." He argues that "there was absolutely no conclusive evidence presented at trial that suggested the [d]efendant's guilt beyond a reasonable doubt."” And: “Here, the victim testified to facts that constituted each element of the charged offenses. Her testimony, which the jury found to be credible, was sufficient, standing alone, to support a finding beyond a reasonable doubt as to each of the convictions. See, e.g., Commonwealth v. Lawrence, 68 Mass. App. Ct. 103, 104 (2007)

("The victim's testimony was sufficient evidence of [indecent assault and battery on a child under age fourteen]"); Commonwealth v. Gonsalves, 23 Mass. App. Ct. 184, 185 (1986) ("The victim's account of what the defendant did to him in the apartment was sufficient to overcome the defendant's motion for a required finding of not guilty of rape"). The idea that long infected our legal system that the victim's testimony in sexual assault and rape cases is less credible than the testimony of victims in cases involving other types of crimes -- an idea that reflected nothing more than sexism and an unwillingness on the part of our courts to treat sexual crimes as the gravely serious matter that they are -- has been rejected both by statute and by common law.”

When you and others continue to parrot the myth that victim testimony does not constitute as valid evidence, you are harming victims of rape and abuse. This is straight up rape culture and, since I’m pushing back any video coverage on the matter until I’ve finished dealing with Lily because I don’t want to muddle things, I need you to stop promoting falsehoods. We have legal members on our team who have passed the bar, Patchie does not, Opal does not, and neither does You Can Eat Hearts. You are causing unnecessary harm to victims by breathing life into myths constructed by rape culture. To be clear, I am not asking for your denouncement of certain people, just for you to please, stop publishing bad legal takes.

This is also the case in Canada, if you're wondering - https://www.accused.ca/evidence.htm

Sorry, I just realized I didn't give you the US case study. Here it is - http://masscases.com/cases/app/100/100massappct1.html#:~:text=The%20jury%20found%20the%20defendant,We%20affirm. ]

Oct 30, 2022 9:16 AM

Whew, you have no idea how long I wanted to spill this tea.

Alright, I've said what I've wanted to say on this topic. I'm now going to focus on laughing at Lily and her horrible incest stories.

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for finally telling the truth?

I (26 M) work as the editor of a local paper. The owner (40 M) is basically useless and also has a bit of a short temper, so I have to both run everything and try to meditate between him and the rest of the staff. I'm also being paid just enough to get by but, you know, we're struggling. I'm willing to do what I can to keep us afloat.

A few weeks ago, my best friend (27 M) tried pitching a story to our boss that he and his twin sister (27 F) wrote together. However, it was fiction and the owner wasn't happy about that-- he ripped up my friend's notebook and even fired him, despite my best efforts. I was able to gather up the remains of my friend's notebook and returned them to him, and asked about the story, since I saw the first few lines and thought it looked promising.

They told me the story, and it was amazing. It was written as if they were journal entries by a famous astronomer (27 M) claiming to have discovered life on the moon-- pretty fantastical stuff, but if you didn't know the truth it would honestly seem believable. They wanted me to sneak the story into the paper but I was hesitant. Not only would I be lying to hundreds of people, but I'd be the one taking a risk here-- my best friend was already fired, and he and his sister have a secondary source of income, while the paper is pretty much all I have. They convinced me to print it anyway, saying that the astronomer is literally on the other side of the world and the paper could fold at any minute anyway, so I did it.

The story exploded-- everyone believed it, and we sold more copies of that issue than we had the whole of the previous year. The owner was initially furious, but once he realized how much money this would make him he was suddenly fine with it. He even hired my best friend back, since he had future "journal entries" already written.

Then things started going downhill. I found out my best friend was given a raise, and I wasn't, even though I was working just as much if not more than before. I brought this up to my boss, and he said that I had betrayed him by printing the story, and that he can't reward someone he can't trust-- but it was only because of me that we printed the story that lead to him reaping the rewards!

To make things worse, I never even get to talk to my friend and his sister outside of matters relating to getting the next article printed. There are so many people who want to meet and talk with them, they've even became close friends with this very rich and influential local figure (27 F) and while I'm happy for them, I wish they would at least make a bit of time for me.

Last night things came to a head. My friend's sister and I were preparing the next article, and I left the room for a few minutes. When I came back, the astronomer we were lying about was there, unconscious. Apparently he came all the way across the world to demand an explanation, and my friend's sister panicked and knocked him out. If that wasn't bad enough, she then decided we needed to bring him to MY apartment until she figures out what to do next. He's in my spare bedroom right now.

This has all gotten so out of control. I never asked to get wrapped up in something like this, I was just trying to help my friends and save our jobs. Now so many people are believing a bunch of lies that we attributed to a man I just helped assault and kidnap! And through everything, everyone else seems to be doing better while I just keep doing worse-- I feel like I've been used and left behind.

This is where I'm wondering if I'm the asshole or not. After the first article was published, I was approached by someone who works for our main competitor, and he offered me money to expose the story as a hoax, a lot of money. I turned him down at the time, but after last night, I contacted him and said I was willing to prove it was fake if he was still willing to pay. He'll be here soon, and I'm going to tell him everything.

I know that this would be terrible for the reputations of my friend and his sister, and the paper I work for will definitely go under. But I'm tired of lying to people, and I feel guilty for that and everything we've done to the astronomer; we'll have damaged his reputation as well, not to mention how he quite possibly has a brain injury now. And, frankly, I'm tired of putting in all this effort and getting nothing in return. The truth will come out eventually, would it really be so bad if it came out just a little sooner and I could have a bit of financial stability because of it?

So, am I the asshole?

[theneighborhoodwatch]

002 - Popstar, Franklydear and whatever we call what Wally and Home have going on

(send me a character/ship to hear my thoughts)

i've gotten Multiple asks about all of these pairings, so let's not waste anymore time. under the cut bc unsurprisingly this got Long.

POPSTAR

when or if I started shipping it: i think it first Really started with this pokemon AU post clown made talking about what he thought they'd be up to in that universe... the language he uses in that post really caught my eye, and it just kinda snowballed from there, especially as canon started picking up and we saw more of them interacting 1-on-1.

my thoughts: i feel like we don't really get a lot of yuri in this specific Type of horror (i.e. cute thing is secretly fucked up), at least not in the west. i think that's a crying shame, but i believe popstar has the potential to truly open the floodgates. unless i'm forgetting herstory - idk i feel like there's definitely some rpgmaker game out there that'll prove me wrong but you know what i mean. more mascot horror yuri NOW.

What makes me happy about them: i think it's super cute that they both kinda geek out whenever one of them asks the other for help, like they're being asked by this big huge celebrity and not, like. their literal next door neighbor lol. sally in particular - as bullheaded as she is, her insistence on trying to put poppy in the spotlight more often isn't because she thinks poppy is untalented and needs to train up, but because she genuinely thinks poppy is Just That Stunning And Talented And Beautiful, and doesn't want that to go to waste. nepotism has never looked so romantic <3

What makes me sad about them: sally seems to enlist poppy's help Way more than poppy does sally's, and while sally clearly Wants to take poppy seriously, she has a hard time not immediately brushing off other's concerns in general because She's An Auteur, Dammit, She Knows What She's Talking About. it does make me very worried for poppy! i think things between them are gonna get Way worse before they get better lol. not dysfunctional enough to be toxic yuri but certainly painful enough that it will Get Me when it happens.

Things done in fanfic that annoys me: THAT NOBODY WRITES IT

Things I look for in fanfic: MORE OF IT

My kinks: again, serious in-depth answers go on the nsfw blog only. i will say i think they're definitely those people who keep trying to set up roleplay scenes only to get distracted by trying to figure out the technical aspects and/or getting so in-character that they forgot what the end goal was.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: poppy partridge if you read this im free on Thursday night and would like to hang out. Please respond to this and then hang out with me on Thursday night when I’m free.

My happily ever after for them: after a series of trials and tribulations, complete with at least one breakup arc, the two of them reconcile in an appropriately dramatic apology-that-looks-suspiciously-like-a-marriage-proposal scene. i don't really know what happens after that. i was going to say they go on to become lesbian statler and waldorf, but i think they would both be too invested in trying to give actual constructive criticism, so maybe they just mst3k it instead.

FRANKLYDEAR

when or if I started shipping it: i dunno! i don't remember ever being opposed to the ship, but there was definitely a period of time where my approach to it was more "hmmm i wonder what this ship being canon means for welcome home's Themes" and less "ough fuck they make me so sick," as opposed to the current day where it's a pretty even mix of both.

my thoughts: god what haven't i said about them. i think i peaked with this post. i don't think anything i say can summarize the appeal of their relationship to me more succinctly than that.

What makes me happy about them: when it comes to eddie, frank is like. frank is so fucking funny bc he seems to be under the impression that he's being subtle. yeah get mad whenever anyone who isn't you makes fun of that beautiful big breasted mailman to the point where you'll even defend his honor in the merch advertisements and also when you Do make fun of him be sure to be gentler than you would be with almost anyone else but also don't let up entirely bc then you won't get to see him be adorably flustered and also enforce a surname-only basis with him so people don't think you're getting too chummy but ALSO drop the surname-only basis whenever he seems genuinely upset to let him know that you're worried about him and want to help. and also do this in front of everyone at a holiday party. nobody will suspect a thing. and the best part is that IT WORKS ON EDDIE. EDDIE ALSO THINKS FRANK IS COOL AND TRUSTWORTHY AND RELIABLE ENOUGH THAT HE AUDIBLY/VISIBLY RELAXES WHENEVER FRANK ENTERS A SCENE.

What makes me sad about them: EDDIE'S ASS IS NOT PREPARED FOR THE DAY THAT IT'LL BE FRANK IN THE PROVERBIAL LOVESEAT OF TORMENT. arguably neither is frank but like given how eddie saw frank at the end of the homewarming special? it's going to FUCK him up.

Things done in fanfic that annoys me: when i click on the eddie dear/frank frankly tag. and i filter out all mentions of wally darling. i should not still be seeing wally darling. do u understand. get that little yellow cunt OUT of here!!!!!!!

Things I look for in fanfic: pre-established relationship hurt/comfort or angst. i realize i may be alone in my interpretation of franklydear as not being Together together yet, but i am stubborn.

My kinks: i wonder how many times i can say "ask for my nsfw blog" without it getting old.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: GOOD QUESTION. i don't think either of them would particularly struggle to find a partner if they didn't end up with each other, but i also can't see either of them being attracted to any of their other neighbors.

My happily ever after for them: these two images specifically. in general they should get to be huge cornballs for at least a little while should they successfully endure The Horrors.

HOME AND WALLY. HOMEWALLY? WALLYHOME? WHO KNOWS.

when or if I started shipping it: an old friend of mine made a joke about it once in 2022, waaaay before there was any like, huge fandom presence outside of a few scant discord servers. i thought about it too hard and now i'm here.

my thoughts: romantically or not, THEY ARE SOOOOO DOOMED, DUDE. THEY ARE SO FUCKING DOOMED. and i don't mean, like, "yeah they have some stuff that makes their current relationship less than ideal but i'm sure they can work things out ^-^" no i mean DOOMED. there's only one way this relationship can end and it is in BLOOD and TEARS. and i will be there with a tissue box and a big ol' bucket of popcorn. i've written about them so much on this blog already but by god i will write more.

What makes me happy about them: the obsessive aspect to their relationship, like. it feels very mutual. it would be so easy to make home coldly imposing 24/7 and/or just have them be taking advantage of wally's love for them, but. no. they seem just as attached to their inhabitant as he is to them, for better or worse. i get a lot more mileage out of a relationship where both parties Love each other and desperately want to be all-encompassing for one another in All aspects of relationships, but live in a reality where that simply cannot be, and their relationship is wildly unhealthy as a result. home is a monument to a past that either never existed or cannot be revived without Severe consequences. but wally doesn't care about that. all wally cares about is that he is his home. see also: this post.

What makes me sad about them: [copypastes the entire above paragraph]

Things done in fanfic that annoys me: most wally/home fic is either pure crackfic or fic in which home gets hit hard with the ron the death eater treatment. like jesus, he's already pretty morally ambiguous in canon by just Standing There, you don't need to make him an actual rapist to establish that his and wally's relationship isn't exactly ideal.

Things I look for in fanfic: i don't look for it because i've pretty much given up on it being there at all, but i hope more folks write some actual character study-adjacent stuff about them some day!

My kinks: i do have actual answers to this but no way am i stating them here. again, i have a separate blog for that.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: LITERALLY ANYONE ELSE.

My happily ever after for them: you know that's not gonna happen.

[rin-and-jade]

I've been questioning for a few years now, but denial has only gotten worse. Logically I know did/osdd is real but it doesn't feel like it can be. Anytime I talk about it, even just to myself, it feels fake, I'm just lying, creating an elaborate story, wanting to be special. Anytime I read about it or anything related to it I get super dissociated basically instantly. Anytime I think about it I get super anxious and dissociated. I'll respond to alters on autopilot but when I realize it feels like I just made it up. I'm still living in a bad situation, but they were around before in the same situation, now it's just quiet (it's been around a year now). I'm just so lost about what to do, this disorder is terrifying and feels impossible to talk about. How do you deal with denial when they're not even really around? Or how to accept a disorder you might have? I don't know what the question even really is I'm just really lost.

Im so sorry you're going through a rough moment, denial sucks, i agree. I hear your worries, and have made two posts about handling denial! (usually from self doubt and imposter syndrome). Feel free to read them at your pace, and adding own tip for your ask is: start small

start small with what you are certain with;

"i certainly have five fingers, if others say i only have four i could just count them and prove them wrong anytime."

to

"im sure i am aware what happened on my friend's party, the fact that i can recall the time of arrival, what activities are held there, and the foods we ate proves that i am not making this memory up."

to

"they may not think the same as how i'd do, but i know my own feelings from that certain incident. Them fabricating their own narration on how i felt that time was not the truth, because only i know myself best."

--

What i just demonstrated before is an example on developing trust and certainty with your own experiences or facts,

Because us, victims, are always shut down and told as liars even we are telling the truth by others. But overcoming this is always possible, be curious on why you might be wrong, while also be curious on why you might be right--though most importantly, no matter how wrong or right or 'attention seeking' you are,, the last person (yourself) shouldn't perpetuate the dismissal patterns others had done, you must learn to root and accept your own proofs or feelings,, an ally, not become another enemy.

It's time to learn how to trust yourself after years of people not believing in you.

Im here to talk if you need anything else, goodluck on your doubt-slapping journey to come!

- chrono

[aetherstorms]

So a post popped onto my timeline due to the Fandaniel tag, and it reminded me that a vast swath of the fandom hates Hermes. They hate him for being depressed, for living in a society that he doesn't fit into, for being unable to conform, and for causing the Final Days (I assume). So I've decided to write it. I've decided to say why I love Hermes, and why I still love him as Amon and Fandaniel. This is going to be long, and contain personal comparisons to support why I feel such a strong attachment. Obviously this is very personal, so if you don't want brief insights into a stranger's mind, just keep on scrolling. It really is a lot to take in.

First of all, and I believe this is my first time saying it on this blog, but I'm autistic. As such, I live in a society I don't fit into. I have a lot of trouble with face to face interactions. I have a lot of difficulty maintaining eye contact and reading body cues and tone, and this has only gotten worse since the start of the pandemic due to avoiding people as much as possible to avoid getting sick. I don't see Hermes as autistic, but the fact he feels differently than those around him, the fact that he has such high empathy for the creations of Elpis, definitely causes him to be isolated. Whether they actually push him away, or he just has trouble connecting because they can't understand his point of view, it's pretty clear to me that he's quite lonely.

His short story told me that it was probably more of the second thing. They don't seem to reject him, but they can't understand his feelings, so he withdraws. When he decides to make Meteion, his fellows in Elpis apparently go to great lengths to help him create her. They want to help him, they want him to be happy. There's simply a gap they cannot bridge. Unlike in real society, those around him are compassionate toward him despite his differences.

But, through no fault of their own, this compassion also hurts him. He worries that he is an aberration. Because no one around him feels as he does, he thinks of himself as a freak, as someone different and it bothers him. He withdraws further. How often has this man removed his mask to have an earnest conversation with someone? I feel like when he's talking to the WoL it may be the first time he's done so, at least in his adult life. If he had even one friend, or person he considered a friend, might he have broken so easily? Or would that one tether have been enough to give him pause? It's hard to say, since in that moment it was so so very clear that he wasn't in his right mind. He had heard Meteion tell him horrible things, and he felt he needed to subject himself to all of it.

Yet, remember his question at the end of Ktisis Hyperboreia? Even though Meteion was telling him previously that all the Meteia found was death and murder and pain, he still asks her 'was there happiness in those distant stars? Was there a reason for living?'. He still hopes for good news. He still wants to hear that things can be okay. Meteion does not give him good news though. She tells him more of the same, more suffering, more pain and death. She snaps completely, overcome by the agonies of her sisters, and Hermes falls to despair. If this is the whole of the universe, then this must be what Etheirys also deserves and if they can prove themselves better than the whole rest of the universe, only then will they be able to survive, whether they deserve to live or not.

The fact that much of the fandom seems to hate him for this decision is troubling, to say the least. They slap the 'bad guy' tag on him without any further thought. They don't consider why he makes this decision, they don't see him as a man at the end of his rope, who sees no other choice he can make. As it turns out, he could have stopped the Meteia right then and there. His staff can apparently communicate with them, so he could probably have ordered them to return like Emet-Selch told him to. But his sympathies do not lie with mankind, not in that moment. He sees the Meteia as being the ones in the right, as of course they must be as creations that sense emotions. Even though he asked a flawed question, he isn't thinking straight. He was a man with depression, and having been pushed to the brink, he makes a decision that in the moment seems like the correct one.

From the perspective of those around him who obviously aren't privy to his thoughts, of course this seems an evil act. From that perspective, of course they would hate him. But we the player have seen him struggle. So why do so many hate him for this decision when they must surely know that the circumstances that brought it about were unusual? Did they forget that not long before they were chasing Meteion because she very much did not want to give her report, knowing it would hurt Hermes? Did they forget that just before she began her report, she was expressing that she was sorry to Hermes? Did they forget that she had been fighting against the will of her sisters to give that report? She knows this man, her creator, better than anybody. She knew what this news would do to him. If anyone is the villain here, it's us for forcing her to give her report. But only Meteion must know how this is going to go, or at least she has the best guess, and we can only do as the game dictates. The ending was a foregone conclusion, and it's one we already know. But why do so many hate him when they know more about his pain than presumably anyone aside from Meteion?

But that's just Hermes. Why do the players hate Fandaniel? Because he's flamboyant? Because he's annoying? Because he's weird? Because he's an utter nihilist? Maybe it's that last one. If you don't have depression, without knowing why he feels this way in the moment it's presented, it's easy enough to go 'what the hell?' and hate him for wanting to destroy everything. But why continue to hate him afterward? With the context of Amon and the things he saw? The player knowing he suffered for five millennia (he states ten when dying as Zodiark, which I still find curious) and found nothing good. He was a man who was forced to help kill entire worlds on top of the belief he already had in Allag that it should all end simply because his Emperor willed it so.

Now, to be perfectly honest, as something of a nihilist myself, I admit I might have a leg up on understanding him here. I see the atrocities around me and think how much better it would be if humanity just stopped existing. But I also make a point of seeking proof of the opposite, just as Hermes did. Maybe Amon's problem is that, like Hermes, he was isolated. Given current evidence, it seems like Noah was his only confidant in Allag and she stated that he was dour and serious until he succeeded in bringing back Xande, and he may not have tried to gain friendships among the Ascians. With that assumption, it's hard to want to find the good in mankind. He certainly wouldn't have been encouraged to find it.

But why not hate Emet-Selch, who created the Empire that broke Amon in the first place? Who had, by his own admission, created many Empires, all of them presumably as horrible as Allag and Garlemald. Why is he so popular? Because, also by his own admission, he kept trying to find a connection to us? Because he sees what he's doing as a step toward restoring what was lost, something the player can more easily relate to? Which even the Scions admit sounds logical from a certain point of view? Do they hate Fandaniel because he has no wish for anything better, but rather an end to everything?

I like Emet-Selch, but I have no idea why others like him, only why I do. Just as I can only guess why others hate Fandaniel, Amon, and Hermes. If I was given a big red button to kill all of humanity, would I press it? The answer may surprise you. I wouldn't. I wouldn't because I have people I care about, because I own pets specifically to keep me from killing myself when my depression would otherwise overwhelm me to the point even my friends wouldn't be enough. Hermes, Amon, Fandaniel....they don't seem to have had those things. By all indications, they were very alone and while Noah seemed to have a greater insight into Amon than any of Hermes' colleagues did, even she could only tell us so much.

Hermes had Meteion, but then she brought him multitudes of misery, a whole universe of it. His only tether had told him it essentially wasn't worth it and Amon states he dreamed the memories Kairos had supposedly erased until he was given the seat and memories of Fandaniel, giving him context. But he was plagued with these dreams supposedly his whole life. He dismissed them as dreams at first, but to see such things night after night probably didn't do his mental health any good and then he finds out these aren't dreams, but memories. He knew about the true cause of the Final Days, and then he's given no reason to believe in the good of man when he's basically made to foster the opposite. Is it really any wonder he was so manic at the end? His goal was finally coming to fruition. His suffering would finally be over.

Maybe that's why so many people like Emet-Selch. He's a bastard and a mass-murderer sure, but he's been doing all of this for a cause he believes in. Twisted as it may be, it's relatable; he just wants his loved ones back. This is a story told all throughout history, of people doing whatever it took just to get their loved one (usually their lover) back. The man is a walking Greek Tragedy. Fandaniel on the other hand wants everyone, including himself, to die. Not just die, but suffer on the way. Most people won't stop to think about his reasons, even when he outright hands them to you. It really does show how experiences shape you. If you haven't experienced things in life to make you feel the way he does, it can be hard to see why he'd think this way.

When Kairos does its work and we see Hermes outside Ktisis, he's obviously still injured and no one knows why other than Hermes' 'vague memories' of what he decided he would believe had happened to Meteion. He gave himself an ending that would ensure he never looked for her, never tried to use his staff to call out to the Meteia again. He was wounded physically, but emotionally he was shattered. He calls himself a murderer in Hythlodaeus' short story, after all. he is depicted as a man who throws himself obsessively into his work to the point of self-neglect, most likely to punish himself and also to distract himself.

When the Final Days came, how did he hold it together? How did he not fall to despair to be consumed by his own aether creating a monstrosity? Did the Meteia consciously spare him? No, I don't think so. Meteion offers him oblivion before she flees. She sees this as a mercy he has denied. She loves him, she would not want him to keep suffering. In this I can't guess how he managed not to be consumed. Maybe he suspected the true cause, or at least a part of it, and as he'd said, he would be working against the Meteia. He seems to very much be a man of his word, at least. Even to his own detriment. One cannot deny one's nature.

But yes, I both understand and don't why so much of the fandom seems to hate Hermes and his reincarnation, but if you've made it this far, you definitely deserve accolades. This was a lot, but I found I could no longer leave it unsaid. It was an unpacking of myself, the character(s) and an attempt to figure out why those who dislike them do so.

Of course, there is a difference between empathy and mimicry. Most of us have a healthy separation of fiction and reality. He's just like me fr, but that doesn't mean I'd want to do what he does if I had the power to do it. He's a fictional character with fictional pain that just happens to reflect a mindset I can understand. But it seems many can't understand or relate. They just see a man with an incomprehensible viewpoint and they don't even try to understand his thinking. I think I can understand why they don't understand, but at the same time it really just proves his own point, doesn't it? No one tries to understand people who are different than them, it seems. Not if they're the majority. At least the people in Hermes' life were apparently kind in their interactions with him, misguided as he saw their attempts.

[darkfeanix]

Feanix Reads Dragon Age Comics

#1: The Silent Grove

I'll be posting my thoughts on each series as a whole, rather then individual issues. Below the cut are all the thoughts I had while reading The Silent Grove.

WARNING: It does get a bit Alistair critical, as I feel like this series really brought out the worst in his character, which in turn brought out the worst in me.

Anyway, here they are, my thoughts:

The Silent Grove (I)

So, first thing's first, it's strange seeing young Varric here. It's a bit surprising how quickly I've gotten used to silver fox Varric in The Veilguard promotional materials, with the longer hair and a bit of beard growth. Younger, cleanshaven Varric just looks weird to me now. The art style also doesn't help. I'm pretty sure the art style was one of the things that turned me off the first time I tried to read them when they first came out.

I'll admit, as far as protagonists go, King Alistair wasn't a huge draw for me, and even when the comics were first releasing, I don't think I actually read them until after the final issue of Until We Sleep had been released. I was always more of a Morrigan boy, and even in the first game, there were times when Alistair grated on me. We'll return to that point later.

Now, Isabela on the other hand? Yeah, she's the reason I even started reading these comics. I do love my captain.

I'd forgotten that Zevran is mentioned by name in this story. Apparently he was meant to be in the comic in Varric's place, but was "cut due to concerns about party dynamics", which to me sounds like a skill issue. Zevran has a pre-existing relationship with both Alistair and Isabela, and it's well-established that Varric doesn't like going out (to the point that the entire party will roast him for it in Trespasser no matter who you have with you).

This is baseless speculation on my part, but I feel like they went with Varric because Varric is probably more popular than Zevran.

The Silent Grove (II)

Okay, I'd like to lodge a complaint: Isabela deserved a new outfit. Varric and Alistair both got spiffy new outfits. Isabella doesn't even get pants. And it's meant to be freezing cold. We open with a guard complaining about how cold it is (cold enough that we can see his breath). Then we cut to Isabela climbing out of the sea. Does she not feel the cold?

She obviously feels the cold; later in this very same issue we see Alistair putting his cloak on her. Why didn't Isabela get an outfit upgrade again? (Don't answer that, we all know why.)

I feel like Varric literally questioning what he's doing there proves my point; maybe it's fitting with his luck that he gets dragged into this sort of thing, but his role just as easily could have been filled by Zevran. Of course, that being said, I do enjoy it when he narrates his circumstances out loud. It's a fun character quirk.

I appreciate that we see a Vashoth (or possibly even Tal Vashoth) as a member of the Crows; it emphasises that the Crows really do take anyone into their number. A pity that all the others basically look like human men. Not elf or dwarf in sight, and no women.

I wonder if the intention was for the reader to believe the prisoner was Maric. He says it's too late, and Alistair's narration says that his quest has failed, but I'm trying to imagine reading this for the first time without having spoiled everything for myself. I feel like I would assume that the man Alistair finds is Maric.

The Silent Grove (III)

First shot of Yavana, flashback, from behind. No pants. Pretty sure she is only the second named female character in this series so far, and neither of them have been drawn with pants. I can literally see Yavana's butt cheeks. Ugh.

Lack of pants aside, she does have a really cool design, though.

This part felt like a lot of exposition, some pretty scenery, and Alistair saying that high dragons are worse than darkspawn. Really, Alistair? You fought during the Blight, and you think that high dragons are worse than darkspawn?

"In my life so far, I've taken the sword to three dragons. The big ones, I mean – not the ones that look like scaly, tooth dogs and love horse meat, but the high dragons that make the earth shake. Not even darkspawn are that savage. A dragon feed on anything. A dragon exists only to kill."

This reminds me way too much of Iron Bull's speech about dragons.

"Dragons are the embodiment of raw power. But it's all uncontrolled, savage… So they need to be destroyed."

Ugh. At least right after Alistair gives that speech in his narration, the dragon literally chooses not to kill him. He never gives any indication that he learns from his interactions with the dragon, though – at least, not that I remember. Maybe the next two issues will prove me wrong.

Anyway, we will come back to this later as well.

The Silent Grove (IV)

I love Yavana. No surprise, right? She's Morrigan's sister, and she's written almost like a mix of Morrigan and Flemeth. I do wish we could have gotten to know her more.

"In destroying what it does not understand, mankind would destroy itself."

But gosh, I really dislike the way Alistair is written… well, I was going to say here, but the truth is everything about his interactions with the dragon and Yavana makes him come across as narrow-minded and really unlikeable to me.

"Meaning you don't understand either, but it's what your mother told you."

Yeah, we'll come back to that later.

Claudio is… eh. He's a bit player. His connection to Isabela's past makes for some interesting plot developments, and he's obviously tied to the larger story involving Maric – though, as above, I'm not sure if I would have made that assumption if I hadn't been already spoiled the first time I read this. I probably would have assumed he was just planning on ransoming Alistair back to Ferelden or something. Or, heck, putting him in that prison like Maric was.

I appreciate Isabela deciding on the spot that she's not going to abandon Alistair. She's grown a lot from the women she was at the start of Dragon Age II.

The Silent Grove (V)

Isabela marching back into the Silent Grove and yelling Yavana's name is very funny to me.

I'd completely forgotten about Isabela and Varric making a deal with Yavana. That makes me even more annoyed about the ending of this arc. But we'll come back to that later.

"You wanted me alive. Now you have to try to keep me."

Okay, I'll admit, that's a good line. Some of that charming, funny Alistair shining through. A shame there's so little of him in these comics.

I do wish slut shaming Isabela wasn't something that the writer felt the need to carry over from the game. Even with Claudio being a bad guy, it comes across as really distasteful considering they've designed her character to show as much skin as possible.

Badass final page with Yavana standing over Claudio's body and talking about how getting the truth even with him being dead.

The Silent Grove (VI)

"You almost missed the fun. Evidently we're going to ask Claudio how it feels to be stabbed in the chest."

Oh Isabela, how I love thee.

Yavana's idea of a séance involves a lot more pyrotechnics than one might expect, but it is quite exciting. I am curious if she burned his corpse, or if it was some magic of Titus's to try to keep his name out of Claudio's mouth?

Yavana's explanation of the Hall of Sleepers, and what Maric's deal was, really convinces me that Alistair was wrong and that she does understand what she's talking about. In the same way that Morrigan prioritised sparing Urthemiel's soul from death even after Flemeth is killed. I don't think either one of them (certainly not Morrigan) does what they do simply because their mother told them to.

Which brings us to possibly my least favourite part of this entire eighteen issue series.

Fuck you, Chantry Boy.

It's later, so here we are. I hate this moment. It makes me hate Alistair, for doing exactly what Yavana says mankind has always done and killing what he doesn't understand. And yes, he says he does it because he blames her for everything that happened in Ferelden after Maric left, but here's the thing: Yavana didn't make the fucking deal with Maric! Flemeth did!

And the thing is, two issues ago he accused her of simply parroting what Flemeth told her. He accused her of not understanding what she was doing. Which is it, Alistair? Is she another pawn of Flemeth's, or is she the wicked witch who took your daddy away?

Except she didn't take him away, Maric made that choice on his own. He made a deal so that he would be able to save his country, and then he held up his end of the bargain by travelling to Yavana.

Uggghhh!

Issues ends with Alistair bemoaning his own status as a pawn and saying he's going to kill Titus.

And then his final narrative just feels so shoehorned because it's close to the kind of humour we're used to getting from Alistair in the game, but this isn't that Alistair.

"My name is Alistair Theirin, and I'm king of Ferelden. Long live the king, long may he reign! And so forth. Pray to the Maker he doesn't do something stupid…"

You just did! Seriously, fuck you, Chantry Boy.

Final Thoughts

Oof. It had some okay moments, but to be honest, the best part of this comic for me was Yavana and, well… Yeah.

The thing is, I don't feel like I'm familiar enough with Alistair's character to say whether or not he's acting out of character. Is all of this something that a hardened King Alistair would do? Or is it the writing emphasising all the worst parts of him without balancing it with what made Alistair so popular?

Anyway, not a great start to the re-read. I really hope I have more fun with Those Who Speak and Until We Sleep, but I'm done for the night.

[its-getting-bad-again04]

im smoking less, eating right, exercising, my room is neat & clean, I've started producing a project that has REAL potential, I get 5-7 hrs of sleep each night (which is great for college), my grades are great, I see my friends every day, I call my girlfriend most nights, I call my parents every Saturday. I have plans, I am thinking about my future.

And yet,

I haven't felt any identifiable emotions in WEEKS. If I were to rate how I was feeling on a scale from one to ten, I would say it feels like I am just flesh being piloted by a swarm of angry and confused hornets.. I have to give myself things to worry about because all I have is the body feeling and none of the brain shit. Every day, I wake up at 3 am, and I fight to sleep, but I have this painful, stabbing, debilitating feeling swirling in my gut.

The hallucinations have gotten better and worse somehow. They are happening less frequently, and I am able to identify when it's happening pretty quickly some of the time. However, they are louder and clearer, and smoking triggers the sound I call the whispers.

The whispers suck because it is the most threatening and consistent ones. It's also the hardest to decipher as "not real." As I sit here writing this, I don't fully believe they aren't real. since i can't get myself to ignore it, I freak out and get really paranoid. I can't elaborate further.

So, I should stop smoking. However, I can't because I feel the most myself after smoking. The pain of anxiety is lessoned and I just feel so much more present and aware.

BUT I FEEL GREAT! Genuinely I feel awesome. Everything is finally okay, and I feel great and anxious -but great. The project I'm working on might just like be the best thing ever (i know its not realistic) bc I can do it. I am not letting the project dissolve. Everyone thinks I am an idiot, like they don't mean it in a bad way; they just think I am not that smart. HOWEVER, when I show anyone this, it just elevates me. proves I can do it. that I AM GOOD AT THIS. thats all I want.

And yet-

my girlfriend is worried, Im saying the most bullshit things for no reason, I feel overly-confident in my abilities and then overly anxious and unable to move then next. I feel like my emotions arent like happy, sad, anxious, mad, i think my emotions are just degrees of heat.

I tried telling my girlfriend this yesterday, and she looked at me weirdly. I probably didn't say it right. I said I had "inverse feelings" and that if feelings were a number scale from 0 to 100, I would be at a -100. But I think I just sounded stupid, sociopathic, and "edgy." If you haven't figured it out yet, Im only writing this right now because I want to KILL myself out of embarrassment.

I haven't even touched on having a new imaginary friend I call Coach because some of my intrusive thoughts sound like Omniman became a high school football coach. Usually, I imagine my intrusive thoughts as a little demon named Tic, but my head has been just SO WEIRD. My mind is totally scrambled, and all my thoughts sound intrusive, so the "helpful" one has formed into the coach. So I now have two imaginary "friends" representing my intrusive thoughts, yelling shit at me all day. However, after taking the coach's advice, I am such a functioning member of society. lolz

[realityandrebirth]

Summary: After watching the ninja fail to reform Morro, Ronin decides to step in and take care of the problem.

Warnings: Drowning, attempted murder.

Prompts: Fear of Water/Bridge

Morrotober: Day Twenty-Seven

Morro had never been so scared in either of his lives, and not during his time being dead, either. He tried to calm himself; sure, he was tied up, bound in vengestone cuffs, and dangling upside-down mere inches above the rushing river, but Ronin was the ninja's ally, sometimes, most of the time, he hoped. Surely they could make him see reason.

If they ever showed up.

"Huh," Ronin said, peering down at him from the bridge. "I kinda thought someone would at least, y'know, pretend to care."

Morro twisted in his binds, swinging back and forth on the rope, but to no avail. "You really think you're going to get away with this?" he snarled, though his voice was pitched high in fear.

"I mean, I've gotten away with worse." Ronin shrugged. "I'm probably doing them a favor, getting rid of a little creep like you. Don't know why they're bothering to try and reform you."

It was because Wu couldn't let go of the son he never had, just like Morro couldn't help but wish for a family he didn't deserve. Morro bit back a retort and continued to struggle.

He looked up again to see Ronin holding a knife against the rope. "Any last words?"

What Morro should have said was something, anything to prove that he wasn't the same person he was when he orchestrated the destruction of Stiix.

What he actually said was, "I should have let Soul Archer take you."

And then he hit the water.

The only thought in his mind was that he was going to die. The river roared around him, tumbling him around and around until he had screamed out all his air, hastening his drowning in his terror. He was going to die, and he was going to die having never been kind to anyone, having never felt happiness in either of his miserable lives.

He didn't believe it when the water spit him out on the shore–surely the blue sky was a hallucination brought on by a lack of oxygen. Then he inhaled, and there was fresh air to fill his lungs and replace the water he was coughing out.

"Are you alright?"

Morro blinked rapidly. "Water Ninja?" he croaked.

Nya sawed through the ropes around his chest and legs while he lay there gasping. "The others are dealing with Ronin," she said, spitting the thief's name like a curse. "He's lucky if I ever speak to him again, that bastard."

"He said you weren't coming.

"We thought you got arrested again." Nya fumbled with the vengestone cuffs until they unlocked with a click and she pulled them off. "Didn't realize you'd been kidnapped until later. I'm just glad we weren't too late. Get up."

Morro didn't move. Exhaustion weighed down his limbs, and he was content to lie there shivering until the cold killed him instead of the water. "Why?"

"What, do you want me to carry you?"

"Why did you save me?"

Nya huffed. "What, like Ronin's qualified to be judge, jury, and executioner? If you deserved to die, you would've stayed dead the first time." She put an arm around his shoulders and pulled him up to a sitting position. "Come on, Wu's freaking out."

Somehow, Morro got his feet underneath him. Somehow, he hobbled to the Bounty, leaning on Nya to stay upright. Somehow, he wrapped his arms around Wu and accepted the love from the man he used to call his father.

And the flicker within him–the smallest resolve to change and redeem himself–somehow, the water had not extinguished it, and it burned brighter than it ever had.

[theconstitutionisgayculture]

So, I just gotta say that I don't get this idea that John Money is responsible for all this gender nonsense - They were twin boys, and only one of them was castrated in a botched circumcision, and Money suggested the parents raise the boy as a girl. He was the doctor in charge of the whole charade, including creepy therapy sessions where he made the twins mimic sexual acts with each other, and prescribing female hormones. But! In spite of all this, (1)

Who was raised female strongly suspected something was wrong, acted out in school, rejected most feminine things, was just miserable and moody and uncomfortable and when he learned the horrible truth he immediately began living life as a man again. He eventually killed himself. I believe the remaining twin also committed suicide, years later. Anyway, Money had been pretty sure that he and the family could simply convince this kid he was born female and his brain wouldn't know the difference. (2)

That all that mattered was how you were raised, and gender identity had nothing to do with your biological sex. But he didn't prove that even a little. He was completely wrong. So for me, I find it strange that a lot of people who are critical of the trans movement seem to have misinterpreted the Money gender identity experiment. I think his only real contribution to the trans movement was gifting the term gender identity, which wasnt really a thing before. (3)

Not just the term, but the entire concept. And that concept, that "gender" is somehow completely independent from sex and people's gender can change after birth if they're just gaslit enough, is a large part of why the modern trans movement is so toxic and harmful. I've seen multiple TRAs and pro-trans articles cite his "experiment" as proof of gender identity in the recent past. I'm talking like less than 5 years ago. Even though his abhorrant child abuse experiments were a failure, people who cited him never heard about the suicides or the ultimate failure of his theories. They just heard the first part, that the child with the injured penis was successfully "socially transitioned" and lived as a girl afterwards. And that highlights why it's almost impossible to believe anything TRAs say. Because they don't do proper research. They look until they find things that "prove" what they already believe, and then they stop looking and ignore and dismiss any contradictory evidence. And it's only gotten worse. Outside of modern climate "science", there's no field that's more untrustworthy and ideologically compromised than transgenderism.

[hgkitten]

My splints have been all upgraded.

They aren't the final ones I'll have but they are easier to work with.

As usual, I only got this far because I researched, annoyed doctors by saying "what if?," and didn't back down.

Every single diagnosis I've gotten is because I kept looking when the doctors had stopped looking. This one took 24 years.

It's exhausting.

This time...no one wanted to believe that I was injuring my hands on a daily basis because, while my joints aren't EDS (Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome) bendy, they are just bendy enough that holding things was hyperextending my fingers.

I only got doctors to listen after I had a simple fall in my backyard that ripped the ligaments in my ankle again. This time i could feel the bones moving when I walked.

So...I asked about connective tissue disorders...again, and got referred to genetics.

I missed the EDS by one point, but was told I met the Hypermobile Joints Syndrome category. So genetics referred me to Physical Medicine.

The doctor there tried to tell me it was Carpal Tunnel Syndrome, which I knew it wasn't, but I hand EMG to prove it. So he decided it was my poor computer work station.

I got to Occupational Therapy and after the initial testing I floated the idea of Ring Splints.

Initially, the OT said no because I didn't have deformities. I did the exercises set for me until they made things worse and went back the next week and told her that I had complied until it hurt.

She looked puzzled and then started asking other OT during the week and discovered that I was correct that Ring Splints were an option for treating hypermobility.

Moral of this particularly long story ....

Doctors are not all knowing gods. Doctors won't admit (most of the time) that they don't know. Do your own research.

[anonofseasons]

The reason the rest of Seasons went up is that I figured I'd better just do it before I lost all drive to share ever again and didn't at least complete Seasons for the remaining readers. It's the only thing I've written (outside of fandom) that has gotten much attention. It was nice, and I really appreciate that anyone would read it. But outside of that, I cannot get more than the tiniest handful of people to care about what I write, and it has been that way for years. It's discouraging, I'll be honest. My already-low confidence keeps taking beatings. I used to be more active with fandoms and posting fics, but one fandom/ship soured the experience for me. (Long story short, a lot of that ship's writers were bullied out by much more prominent writers. One of those popular writers mocked content from my fics in vaguetweets every time I posted, and I couldn't keep calling it a coincidence after a while.) I'd hear "you only write manbabies" (yeah more than once) and "you write too much of this" or be told my characterization wasn't realistic. But mostly? It just goes ignored. So I think, "I have to work harder and be better so people will be interested in reading it."

I don't know how other people manage to get word out about their writing. AO3 is great for sharing what I don't plan to publish/what can't be published, but what about what I do want published? I want to be a career author. And I struggle bc I'm dealing with problems that have a hand in worsening each other: financial struggles, living with my shitty parents, and bad health/disabilities. I need something in my life to work out for once. The pressure is on to be successful at something, but I just keep getting older and physically worse. My friend is willing to take me in when they find a place, we hope that's this year, but I can't live off of them, and I can't just sometimes cook and clean when I have spoons to make up for that. I need an income. I want writing to work out. But it just dies on my social media, with very few interactions, if any at all. I had a ton of stuff I wanted to finish for Seasons this month and into October to share with everyone in my excitement. But I'm losing my will to share anything. I only feel foolish when I try. Everything I do only proves my critics right, so it's embarrassing. Why even bother to try? It's been fourteen years of trying to get anything I write seen. I don't plan to stop writing btw, it's the sharing that's so difficult. I've been told countless times to write for myself when I express my despair, and guess what? That's good advice I've been taking this entire time! Who else could I be trying to please at this point? I have no one to please lmao, it's just me doing stuff I wanna do! The reaction to the ending of Seasons has me hesitant to give up on sharing, bc clearly lots of people connected to it in different ways, and that's wonderful. It makes me think sharing isn't so bad! But I just don't know if - at my age and health - if I can keep trying. I have two books I want to self-publish soon, and they feel like they'll just end up like everything else I post over at @mcalhenwrites - 6 notes and 5 of them are my reblogs! (And it's the same across all social media platforms - or it's even worse.) I'm really thankful that sharing Seasons gave me a taste of what it was like to connect with people through my writing, though. I don't think any of the people who commented or sent me asks realize how much it really helped me through this year, but it did. I started to have a little hope that maybe it wasn't a skill issue on my part, at least? ;A; And here's the thing: I don't really hate my writing all that much. I just fear it's got things wrong with it that I can't recognize, and that's what's putting potential readers off. I do believe my hard work shows, but hard work =/= good enough. My style is getting closer to the skill level I dreamed of having. I'm proud of my characters. But what's missing? I know that being a creator of any kind - even professional - is extremely tough, especially right now. I know this is a struggle for a lot of authors, artists, etc. :'( I just... I want to write as a career so I can keep doing more of it. I rarely have the spoons to keep up with anything. Writing is flexible. I love doing it! I just want to explain how I feel and what I'm dealing with, and why I'm so desperate. If you read this, know that it really helps creators to have our work recommended, boosted, etc. Authors matter as much as artists. I've been trying to train myself for the nth time to not be online and talk about my writing in any capacity. It hasn't worked before - I'm always too stupid to commit to giving up - but at what point in 14 years of complete failure with a side of humiliation does one just learn to give up? And to give some further insight into my thinking process: when I uploaded the remaining chapters, I put Seasons in my private collection (which holds 87 of my works out-of-bounds to anyone but me) so I could upload all the chapters without risking annoying my subscribers. Since 11 chapters in one night is a bit much, eh? :') Ugh, idk why tumblr won't let me edit anything or post long stuff. So I'm cutting this short I guess!

[angeldeviloshi]

Aki leaning in to kiss a lock of the Angel Devil's hair just because, which surprises the Angel Devil because not only was it a completely unexpected move from Aki, it was also dangerous. The alcohol is getting to his head and causing him to make these stupid careless decisions just because he got too comfortable with the Angel Devil's passivity as a devil to let his guard down like that and get so close to him.

The Angel Devil asks him what he's doing, perplexed. Aki stares at him blankly clearly drunk. "It's fine isn't it? This is safe." It's unclear if he's referring to the Angel Devil's hair or the way he held it carefully a short distance away from the devil's face. "You've drunk yourself stupid, human." The Angel Devil points out to him, his locks slipping out of Aki's fingers as he moves his head away, placing further distance between them.

He hears a slight scoff, "I'm not stupid, I was still careful enough to pull that off..." Petty and defensive, a departure from his otherwise mature and sensible persona most days. His mind has clearly been clouded by the substance, funny how the things human grown-ups indulge in can regress them to such childishness in spite of themselves, the Angel Devil muses in his mind.

"Showing off then? Mr. Capable Devil Hunter? Not that there's any point in that, seeing as we're the only ones here. Unless you were trying to impress a devil. Can't say I am though, apart from the lengths to which your recklessness goes of course. That's why you're stupid."

Was it intended as a teasing jab or a reprimand? The devil doesn't know, the words just formed and left his mouth the way they did in the moment.

This human has a penchant or perhaps disregard? For putting himself near the jaws of death, staring down at whatever dangers stood in his way. Naturally that would also mean he perceives the Angel Devil as such, despite the devil's docile nature. A devil is still a devil, and this human despises devils above all else. Or so he believes.

Except the Angel Devil makes a conscious effort not to pose a danger to this foolhardy devil hunter. Keeping his distance whenever necessary, painfully aware of the harm he could bring to this human with less than five years to live if they weren't careful. Yet this human thought nothing of the stunt he just pulled, not to mention his continuous demonstrations of close physical contact with the devil prior to this incident. It seems losing two months of his already pitifully short life did little if anything to deter him. The Angel Devil supposes he could've guessed the moment this human dared to stand barely a few feet away from him, just to personally hand him a handkerchief with his bare hands. Shrugging off the devil's reminder of how this simple act could prove fatal to him.

He'd like to stop thinking about this particular human if he could, he doesn't like how this man has taken up space in his head with his confounding actions for the devil hunter he claims to be.

"I wasn't trying to impress anyone."

Aki's response snaps the Angel Devil out of his rumination.

"Something like that isn't going to kill me. I've survived worse, you should know that, seeing as I'm the one doing most of the work all the time."

"Whatever you say..." the Angel Devil sighs closing his eyes as he concedes. He can't be bothered to argue with Aki whether he's drunk or sober.

"Does it bother you?"

"What?"

"Having that done to you, your ability aside."

A pause of silence. What does this human expect him to say about that? What does he even mean?

"I'm sorry for doing it then."

"Huh?"

Is this human apologising to him?

The Angel Devil watches Aki lower his gaze, looking away, covering his eyes and rubbing his face with his hand. What's gotten into him?

"Hey, what's gotten into you?" He's drunk, that's what this is. Yet the devil finds himself compelled to ask.

"I don't know."

"Well, I don't know if that sort of thing is supposed to bother me outside of the context of my ability. It never really mattered, no one's ever done that to me, I never had to think about it..."

The Angel Devil forms his answer to Aki's question. Maybe Aki's just feeling down from his own assumption of the question he posed to the devil.

"Right... Sorry, I shouldn't have done that."

"Are you apologising to me? ...You're talking to a devil you know?"

The Angel Devil can't help but let his incredulity show on his face.

"I really don't get you. Are you viewing me as a human right now? The booze definitely did a number to your senses."

What a troublesome human.

"If you have to feel apologetic about it, feel it towards yourself for letting your guard down in the presence of a devil like this. I'd hate to be weighed down by human sentiments."

"You're probably right."

Aki lets out a faint chuckle at the irony of his agreement with the devil.

"...Was it something intimate for humans? What you did just now."

"...Sort of."

"Is there someone you like?"

Silence.

"...Hm, Makima?"

Aki's eyes immediately dart to look at the devil the moment he finishes that sentence. Bingo.

"Figures, she's practically a goddess amongst you human males at Public Safety."

It makes sense now. The Angel Devil looks at his own hair draped over his shoulders. A slightly different shade, but to a drunken, lonely man pining for her, it's enough to form an overlap. A lapse in judgment, that's what it was.

Oddly, there's a sense of disappointment.

What if... The only lapse in judgment was Aki's lack of inhibition to the dangers of approaching him for the sake of this gesture of intimacy. The Angel Devil shakes his head, what is he thinking. This human's stupidity must be rubbing off on him.

"You okay?"

"...Yeah, just...got something on my hair..."

"I'll get it."

The next thing he knows, Aki is running his hand through his locks, making sure to avoid touching his skin. The Angel Devil sat frozen, the swift gentle touches and tugs on his locks sending brief pulses of... anticipation through his body, his heart may have skipped a beat.

"It should be off now."

"...Yeah. Thanks."

"That's a first from you."

"You're one to talk."

"I meant that as a compliment."

What is he supposed to say to that? Any witty retort the devil could have come up with is lodged in his throat. All he could respond with was an aversion of his gaze and a weak attempt at a scoff. He feels silly.

"You really oughta be careful next time."

The Angel Devil swiftly returns to the topic at hand to distract from the awkwardness he's feeling.

"Don't worry about it."

"For the record, I haven't washed my hair in a long time. You know me. You're getting a mouthful of devil filth if you're not careful."

"...Does 'devil filth' smell like baby shampoo?"

Is this human being serious? The Angel Devil doesn't know how much longer he can humour Aki's drunken nonsense.

Aki certainly seems amused. Huffing with mirth at the devil's stumped expression before downing the last drops of beer in his beer can.

"...It has nothing to do with Miss Makima. I don't really know myself, but... I guess I was curious. I don't know, what has been happening to me. I'm sorry... for doing that to you..."

Aki blacks out as soon as he finishes what he wanted to say, his head landing squarely on the Angel Devil's lap while the devil was still in the midst of processing what just happened before acknowledging the sudden weight pressing on his thigh. He sighs.

Thankfully, it didn't take long for Denji and co. to arrive and collect Aki while the Angel Devil himself was escorted back to the allocated residence for special division devils in Public Safety by Kishibe.

The Angel Devil starts playing with his hair as he stares into the mirror while getting changed in the tiny bathroom of his assigned 2x2. Aki's words playing in his head.

("It has nothing to do with Miss Makima... I guess I was just curious...")

The scent of baby shampoo still evident as he brought the locks up to his nose.

"I really don't get you..." the Angel Devil muses out loud to himself, not that it provided him with much closure.

Shifting his fingers so that he's grabbing the locks Aki did, he places his lips where Aki's touched. Gently kissing it. Feeling a pleasant tingle in his heart as he does so.

Until he catches the sight of his reflection in the mirror, bringing him back to reality as he lets go of his hair. He feels silly again.

"I look stupid."

The irony of what he told Aki ringing in his mind.

("I'd hate to be weighed down by human sentiments.")

"Looks like your stupidity really has rubbed off on me, human."