#i feel so oddly detached its weird

[transform4u]

I'm an intern under so much pressure these days... You see I'm in a competition with Trenton, a fellow intern, for a job in a prestigious law firm. Sadly that made us quite the rivals... But I need this job ! I don't count my hours and I work the best I can to show how motivated I am for the position. This morning Trenton sent me a very weird file called dumbstonerbro.mp3. I wanted to delete it but it suddenly oppened by itself !

You’re nestled into the corner of your home office, the soft hum of the computer and the gentle click of keys your only companions. The afternoon light filters through the blinds, casting a warm glow on the papers scattered around. The case file you’re working on, a mountain of legal jargon and complex clauses, looms large on your screen. With a sigh, you click to open the latest file—“dumbstonerbro.mp3.”

The moment the file opens, a vivid swirl of hypnotic green spirals emerges on your screen, its colors undulating and blending into one another. The words “chill,” “vibe,” and “blissed” float through the swirling vortex, each one fading into the next like a soft whisper.

As the first beats of “Electric Feel” by MGMT pulse through your speakers, the music feels both soothing and oddly disorienting. The rhythm is infectious, but the sharp crackling sound coming from your computer starts to grate on your nerves. You notice a thin wisp of smoke curling up from the corner of your monitor. It’s faint at first, but quickly grows denser, filling the room with a pungent, acrid scent.

The smoke starts to envelop you, thickening into a greenish grey haze. You cough, the sound raspy and dramatic, and it feels like the very air is thickening around you. Your vision blurs as you squint at the screen, but the words are becoming increasingly incomprehensible, each letter dancing and shifting in your line of sight. Your attempts to type feel like you’re dragging through molasses—every keystroke is a struggle, and the letters appear jumbled and nonsensical.

Your brain feels like it's wrapped in a fog. The sharp edges of your thoughts are dulling, and you can’t seem to grasp why the case file’s content is eluding you. The words on the screen twist and blur, making it nearly impossible to focus. The feeling of growing dumber is both unsettling and oddly soothing. You sense your intelligence slipping away, like sand through your fingers.

Your eyes widen in shock, bloodshot and strained, as the haze in your room deepens. Memories of your college days—where you studied, what you majored in—are slipping away from you, replaced by a dense fog of forgetfulness. You feel an unsettling panic rising, but it’s quickly smothered by the encroaching feeling of blissed-out detachment.

Another cough escapes you, and this time it feels different. The panic recedes, replaced by a peculiar sense of euphoria. The smoke and the beats of the song seem to merge into one intoxicating experience. The initial discomfort fades, replaced by a slow, creeping sense of being stoned and oddly relaxed.

The sensation is both disorienting and oddly comforting. You’re drifting, floating through a cloud of blissful haze, your mind lost in the rhythmic pulse of the music and the swirling spiral of words. The once-clear focus on your case file is replaced by a tranquil sense of surrender, as you let yourself be enveloped by the surreal, green-tinted fog.

As you absentmindedly fiddle with your hands, a strange sensation starts to register. You glance down and, to your surprise, you’re holding a joint. The sudden appearance of this little roll of green feels oddly fitting, almost like it’s meant to be in your hand. Your eyes widen slightly, but the haze in your mind makes it all seem like a perfectly natural development. You light it with a practiced flick, the flame from the lighter dancing briefly before you take a deep, easy drag.

The moment the smoke curls around your senses, the room transforms. A blacklight flickers on, casting an otherworldly glow over your surroundings. The computer’s soft, pulsing light now competes with the ultraviolet glow, turning your office into a psychedelic haven. The blacklight casts an eerie luminescence over the room, highlighting the smoke that swirls lazily in the air, adding an almost surreal dimension to the scene.

You inhale deeply, and the smoke wraps around you like a warm embrace. With each drag, the sensation of being stoned deepens, and the world around you starts to blend into a hazy tapestry of color and sound. Your once-diligent focus on the case file dissolves into a relaxed, almost blissful state. You feel the heat radiating through your body, an all-encompassing warmth that seeps into every fiber of your being.

As the high takes hold, the stress and strain of your internship, the meticulous legal details, the endless spreadsheets—everything slips away like sand through your fingers. The sensation is akin to shedding a heavy, cumbersome shell and emerging into a state of effortless ease. You are no longer the intern hunched over legal documents; instead, you’re becoming something different, something more emblematic of carefree charm.

You look at your reflection in the dim light and see a character emerging from within you—a bro so perfectly emblematic of his type that he could be the poster child for laid-back allure. Standing tall at 6'1", your body morphs into a blend of lean muscle and relaxed ease. Your stomach now sports a casual six-pack, defined but unpretentious, the kind that makes you proud without demanding too much effort.

Your torso takes on a V-shaped silhouette, a testament to a life of beach volleyball games and impromptu outdoor adventures. The broad, sculpted chest, now slightly sun-kissed under the blacklight, exudes a relaxed, beach-ready vibe. Your arms, though toned, are more about definition than bulk, perfect for throwing on one of those signature tank tops that scream effortless cool.

Your hair, which had once been neatly styled, now falls in shaggy, tousled waves over your forehead. A scruffy beard or light stubble frames your face, adding to your rugged, carefree charm. Your eyes, perpetually half-lidded and slightly squinty, are the epitome of stoned relaxation, hinting at an endless state of ease and bliss.

Your wardrobe, now a reflection of your new persona, consists of tank tops, board shorts, and flip-flops, each piece adorned with laid-back patterns or the logos of your favorite bands. You embody a mix of youthful exuberance and blissful ignorance, a character who exudes cheerful, goofball charm. Your confidence, though perhaps misplaced, is infectious. You are the life of the party, even if your dance moves are more enthusiastic than coordinated.

Your daily routine becomes a blend of unfiltered leisure and carefree indulgence. Mornings are spent emerging from a weed-induced slumber, stretching languidly before rolling another joint. Afternoons are dedicated to hanging out with friends, skating at the park, or soaking up the sun. Evenings find you shifting into a loosely defined “business mode” as a drug dealer, where professionalism takes a backseat to good vibes and social connections. Nights are a celebration of impromptu parties, local music gigs, and eclectic, poorly curated playlists that you DJ with uninhibited enthusiasm.

As the effects of the joint intensify, your stylish room undergoes a dramatic transformation. What was once a meticulously curated space, adorned with sleek modern furniture and crisp artwork, now morphs into a quintessential stoner’s haven. The room takes on a relaxed, almost chaotic charm, the kind that comes from a blend of comfort and neglect.

The furniture, once pristine and carefully arranged, now looks invitingly disheveled. Cushions and blankets are strewn haphazardly across the couch, which itself is cluttered with half-eaten snacks and empty soda cans. The clean lines of the room’s decor have softened, giving way to a cozy, lived-in feel. Posters of psychedelic bands and abstract art replace the minimalist prints, adding bursts of vibrant color to the walls. A lava lamp, its undulating light casting a mellow glow, sits on a side table next to a stack of well-thumbed comic books and a half-empty bag of chips.

The air is thick with the unmistakable aroma of pot, a scent that lingers on your clothes and drifts lazily through the room. It’s a heady, musky fragrance that permeates every corner, mingling with the faint notes of incense and the occasional whiff of stale pizza. The smell is both comforting and pervasive, a signature of the transformation.

In the background, the soft murmur of a stoner podcast fills the space. The podcast, aptly named "High Times and Mellow Vibes," is hosted by two easygoing, laid-back personalities whose voices are as smooth and relaxed as their subject matter. They discuss the latest in cannabis culture with a blend of deep philosophical insights and irreverent humor.

“Dude, did you ever think about how every time we smoke, we’re just kinda connecting with the universe?” one host muses. “Like, seriously, man, it’s like the universe is one giant, cosmic joint.”

The other host chimes in, his voice dripping with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Totally, bro! And you know what’s wild? The other day, I had this epiphany about the whole 'vibes' thing. Like, vibes aren’t just a feeling; they’re a language, man. It’s like we’re all speaking in cosmic grooviness!”

As you listen, your mind begins to wrap in a haze of confusion. Thoughts drift like wisps of smoke, and the once-crystal-clear clarity you had is now a distant memory. Words and ideas merge into a confusing swirl of fog, each attempt to grasp a coherent thought slipping through your grasp. You feel your intelligence dimming, your mental faculties surrendering to the stoned state.

As you float on a cloud of euphoria, your mind is blanketed in a warm, fuzzy feeling. You're completely at ease and utterly content with the world around you. Your body feels weightless and free from any tension or pain. Time seems to stand still as you revel in this state of bliss.

The only thing that manages to penetrate your peaceful bubble is the growing sense of arousal coursing through your veins. It's not just any old arousal either - it's intense and all-consuming, like nothing you've ever experienced before. Every nerve ending is alive with pleasure, begging for release. You can feel yourself getting hard beneath your clothes, an unyielding desire welling up inside you that demands satisfaction immediately.

And then it hits you - a wave of revulsion so strong it threatens to pull you back down from your high again. The thought of two men engaging in sexual activity fills every crevice of your mind with disgust and horror; an unwelcome intruder crashing the party and shattering the serenity surrounding everything else about this momentary escape into euphoria.

You can't help but chuckle to yourself as the thought of big, bouncy tits fills your mind. It's like a light switch has been flipped on, and suddenly you're transported back to your days as a horny college dropout. Your bulge thickens and lengthens in response to the imagery dancing through your head, leaving no doubt about what kind of porn you should be watching right now.

As you load up one of those classic cheerleader pornos, it feels like coming home after being away for far too long. You feel totally straight and basic as shit - just the way life should be! With each passing second, your desire grows stronger until there's no holding back anymore. Pulling out your dick with determination, you begin stroking away at its impressive length while lost in the world of hot cheerleaders getting their tight pussies pounded by muscular jocks.

[ashleyfilm]

Seeing Clearly - Chapter 9. The Bison

Hi Everyone! Happy Friday! Enjoy a little bit of Jealous Joel today :)

Chapter Warnings: cursing, angst, alcohol consumption, negative talk about body image (not by Joel) - Minors - DNI

Characters: Jackson!Joel Miller x F!OC Plus Size Reader

Chapter Summary: A night at the Tipsy Bison brings you closer to Joel and his family. 2.3K

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6 Ch 7 Ch 8

Chapter 9. The Tipsy Bison

You have your first patrol with Joel in the morning. It’s weird, feeling excited and nervous at the same time. You want to feel like you’re contributing but it’s scary beyond the walls and you didn’t realize how much you’ve started to familiarize with the comfort that Jackson brings. On the other hand, you feel similarly conflicting feelings about seeing your patrol partner. Joel Fucking Miller. He’s under your skin. He’s made you feel safe, made you feel alive, but he's also pulled the rug out from under you, abandoned you, and hurt you. And after last night when he came to your room, open and honest, you let him right back in. He’s so infuriating. He’s funny and warm and fucking sexy and then he’s cold, mean, detached. It’s like fucking whiplash.

As you wrestle with all these thoughts inside the dining hall, Maria notices you. “Ash, hey, you okay? She asks softly, not wanting to startle you. You meet her gaze and realize everything you’d been thinking is written all over your face. God, why am I like this? “Hi Maria, I’m fine, just nervous about patrol. Not to say that I’m not up for it, it’s fine just a little anxious that’s all.” You say this all very quickly, not wanting her to think you’re weak. Maria puts her hand on your shoulder lightly, its oddly so comforting in this moment. She’s really got that motherly instinct watching her other hand rub her belly. “Hey, listen, it’s fine to be nervous, I get nervous every time Tommy goes out. It’s incredibly brave of you to volunteer to go out there, especially so soon after arriving here. How about we go for a drink at the Bison, I’ll be your DD and make sure you get home safe,” she laughs. “Sure, that sounds good, Maria, thanks.” You smile at her, finishing up your food and clearing your table before walking with her across the street to the Bison.

Maria and You have been talking for the better part of an hour now and you’ve learned so much about her. That she used to be a District Attorney, okay – go off, that she’s been in Jackson since its beginning, and even that she lost her son in all the madness of the end of the world. You can’t believe how open and blunt she is, she doesn’t mince words, she’s tough but still loving, and she’s an instant friend, you know that now. The two of you are cackling when Tommy and Joel walk in together. Tommy with a million-watt smile starts laughing as he walks up to the two of you. “Ladies, what’s got you all in stiches’ this evenin’. You know, my wife shouldn’t be drinking right now,” he says to you, smirking. Maria trying to contain her laughter, “Honey, it’s not my fault, Ash is just that funny.” Tommy gives her a kiss and responds, “Well, I’m happy to see you two hit it off so well, right, Joel?” Joel, who is standing awkwardly and looking around the bar huffs, “Yeah, sure.” Maria says, “Well, come on, join us!”

Joel and Tommy, both join you at the table for four Tommy next to Maria and Joel next to you, as Joel speaks quietly to you, “We’ve got patrol in the morning, I don’t want to be dealing with your hangover tomorrow,” eyeing the whiskey in your glass. You scoff as you push your glasses up nose, “Oh be quiet, Dad, it’s my second glass in over an hour, I’ll be fine.” Tommy and Maria share a knowing look and try to contain their laughter as Joel glares at them. “Fine, but don’t complain to me when you’ve got a headache tomorrow.” You roll your eyes dramatically, down the rest of your drink and stand up, “I’m off to get another drink anyone want anything?” Joel stares at you and you stare at him. Tommy finally speaks up, “I’ll go with you.” Still staring at Joel like you’re daring him to say something, you begin to walk off toward the bar with Tommy in tow.

As you wait for your drinks Tommy clears his throat, great here it comes, “Listen, Ash, I know Joel can be a bit uptight,” at this you laugh through a scoff. He continues, “Look, I know he’s a lot, but he means well.” “Does he?” you start to speak but Tommy stops you, “All I’m asking is that you give him a break. It’s obvious he cares about you.” At this your eyes flick to Tommy’s in shock, he tries his best to contain the upturn of his lip. “When I told him about you volunteerin’ for patrol, he lost his shit, and not because you can’t handle yourself, we all know better than that. He was worried. I know he’s got a shit way of showin’ it, but you mean somethin’ to him. And if you give him time, I promise he’ll come around.” You nod, looking away to find Joel, but while Maria is chatting with a woman passing by the table, Joel is starring fucking daggers at someone. You follow his gaze to find, ugh, no, Brad or wait, Ryan. And Ryan, is looking right at you smiling with his table full of bro buddies.

Thankfully your drinks arrive then, and you grab them and walk back to the table. Trying to ignore Ryan and his pals as you walk past. Sitting down with your drink and Joel’s matching one you ask Joel, “Who popped your balloon?” He looks at you, confused and Tommy laughs. You’re smirking at Joel and his eyes betray him, like they always do and soften as he shakes his head, “It’s nothin’,” smiling slightly. He goes to sip his whiskey, and you watch his mouth, god his lips are beautiful. Pouty, soft, perfect. You can remember how they felt on you. Your mouth parts as you watch him, totally entranced. Then you realize Maria is talking to you. You look over at her and Tommy who are looking at you with sly little smiles, and you know you’re caught. Joel, thankfully oblivious, asks the two of them, “What is going on, why are ya’ll acting so fuckin’ weird?” You swallow and before anyone can say anything, Ryan comes over to the table with a stupid grin on his dumb face. His friends pretending not to watch whatever is about to go down.

“Ash, hey, Tommy, Maria,” he nods to both then looks at Joel, “uh, Joel.” Tommy and Maria nod back at Ryan but they look at you and Joel, noticing how you look unimpressed, and Joel looks like he might take Ryan’s head off. Tommy stiffens, bracing for impact. Ryan turns back to you, putting his hand on the table near you and leaning in, he says, “It’s good to see you, you look great,” eyes grazing up and down your form. Joel then puts his arm around the back or your chair. You notice it and look back at him but he’s looking right at Ryan. “Look, I was wondering if you’d want to get a drink with me sometime.” He looks back at his friends with a grin as if he’s got this in the bag. You start to speak, and Joel finally looks at you, seems like he’s holding his breath, you look back at Ryan. “That’s really nice of you but I’m not really interested right now. But thank you.” Ryan and Joel’s eyes both go wide but Ryan looks shocked, and Joel looks pleased. You hear a chuckle from Ryan’s table of dudes, but they’ve all looked away at this point. Ryan puts on a fake smile, but his eyes look filled with anger. “No problem, sweetheart, you have a good night.” His hand grips the table hard and then let’s go to walk back to his table, punching one of his friends in the arm that laughed at him and mumbles something to the group.

You look back to the table and Tommy and Maria are grinning at you. “What?” you say looking at them. But Joel speaks up first, “Nothin’, don’t mind them. You two,” scowling at Tommy and Maria, “mind your business.” Tommy and Maria exchange a look and small smiles as they go back to talking about something to do with the town council. And you look at Joel, a small smile on your lips, thankful that he took the attention away from you. He waits till Tommy and Maria aren’t paying attention, he looks to you and gives you a subtle wink, bringing his drink back to his lips. Your stomach flips and you hope you don’t look too flustered. For the rest of the evening, Joel never takes his arm off the back of your chair.

At the end of that third drink, you decide it’s time to go home. This being one of the nicest nights you’ve had since you arrived, spending time with your most favorite people and actually seeing Joel smile and laugh in between his eyerolls and sighs. You trot off to the bathroom before leaving and as you walk back, you catch Ryan scowling at you. It appears he’s had a bit too much to drink at this point. Loudly he speaks to his table saying, “I didn’t want the fat bitch anyway, was just curious what it would feel like, don’t even know how she keeps that weight on.” A couple of the friends at his table laugh, two others look uncomfortable, one man, a few years older than the rest, smacks Ryan on the shoulder, admonishing his behavior. Then you look around, stopped in your tracks and realize that everyone is looking at you, at your body. And you know that almost everyone heard what that asshole had to say. It’s not his words that hurt, it’s the attention they bring to you, the questioning looks from everyone else that make tears prick at your eyes.

Joel is already walking over to you, Tommy, close behind. Joel touches your arm and speaks lowly, “You good?” You nod, eyelids fluttering to try and keep your tears at bay. He looks up at Ryan, but you whisper to him, quiet but firm, “Joel, don’t. It’s not worth it.” Joel exhales out his nose, clearly fuming. But he nods and starts to walk you out the door, not before giving Tommy a look, silently asking him to handle it with Ryan. Maria comes up to your side linking her fingers with yours, Joel still has a steady arm around your shoulder. You turn your head into Maria’s shoulder as your tears start to fall. Maria says, “I got it from here Joel.” He looks like he might protest but he lets you go. Watching as Maria walks you toward your apartment.

By the time you get home, Maria makes you some sleepy time tea, insisting on talking a bit more before leaving you on your own. You’ve had this conversation before, with others. You’ve exhausted this topic over the course of your life, Before and After. But now, with Maria’s deep and beautiful eyes, your new friend, looking at you, you know she’s genuinely there for you. So, you start explaining how ever since puberty you’ve always been a larger person. Bigger than most of your friends. Plush, fat, curvy, plus size, however you want to put it. Men pointing it out to you, women much smaller than you telling you they admire you. Losing a tiny bit of weight and having a girlfriend call you skinny. You haven’t been “skinny” since you were fucking 10 years old. And now, at the end of the world, where people are starving, and you have to move your body to survive, you still have extra weight. It became something that kept people from trusting you. Thinking you stole food, or you didn’t do your part. You thought Jackson might be different. But tonight, all those feelings come back. And even though you love your body, and had lovers over the years, men and women, who showed you how much they liked your body and the effect it had on them, you still feel inadequate or that people may find you unattractive. You’re not proud that those thoughts still get to you, but they do.

When you feel you’ve gotten it all out, you take your glasses off and put your head down on the table next to your cup of tea and start laughing. Maria puts a hand on your head in it a comforting pet. And you raise back up. “Well, now you know this about me. It’s funny, I’ve survived over 20 years of a zombie apocalypse and I’m still fucking struggling with body image issues. Jesus.” Maria smiles at you now. A soft, sweet smile. She knows there’s nothing to say. There never is. This is a reality for you, and you just need to talk it out with someone you trust, and damn you really do trust Maria. She leaves you with a hug by the door and you assuring her, you’ll be fine to do patrol tomorrow, “Getting out might actually be good for me.” You finally go to bed that night thinking of Joel, the wink, his arm on your chair, that he seems to detest Ryan even more than you do. It makes you smile, and you can’t help but hope Joel doesn’t see you the same way Ryan does. You know Joel would never behave like Ryan but it’s a fact that people have their preferences. And maybe that’s why Joel pushed you away in the first place. Fuck. Well, now you’re not nervous for patrol, you just want to get through the fucking day.

Taglist: @somedayheaven @guelyury @elegantduckturtle @indiegirlunited @cheekychaos28 @ghostofzion @harriedandharassed @missladym1981 @littlemisspascal

[mantisgodsdomain]

Every once in a while we will read a fic where it's blatantly obvious that the author is deeply, deeply mortified to be posting A Fic Like This, where the mortification of posting that which they Wanted to write and presumably put effort into writing leaks right out into the fic to the point that it actively dilutes the emotional beats.

Like, you probably know the sort. It pulls its punches, even more so the more embarrassed the author is to be Writing Something, to the point that you can practically taste it in the writing - the author expects you to be just as uncomfortable with this as them, that the mere suggestion of something is so deeply Gross and Offputting and oh, it's weird of them to be even Considering writing this, that they pull back in actually selling the discomfort - that the prose grows oddly detached, telling rather than showing and cutting out reaction and follow-through and anything but the barest sketch of action.

The author's lack of willingness to follow through, their chains to the invisible audience in their head, actively impact the work, and purely to make it Worse - dulling the impact, dulling the edge, dulling the story itself until it says nothing but the echo of that invisible audience. It becomes less about what it is, and more a simple refrain. "I, the author, am afraid that you will read this and deem me strange and offputting and Bad", and that in and of itself offputs you from the story. The same impact as "oh this is probably bad", the same impact as "oh im inexperienced so don't expect too much of me aha", the same impact as talking yourself down for some illusion of Modesty.

It sucks to read. It, presumably, sucks to write. It also knocks us right the hell out of spirals on occasion because whenever we think poorly about our work remembering how much worse it gets if we pull back from what we want to write will knock us out of things enough that we'll start making an active effort to feel less ashamed of stuff we wanted to write or draw or whatever.

We should all get rid of the concept of shame entirely and just start making whatever the fuck is what we're saying we feel more secondhand embarrassment than we do firsthand nowadays and we want that to happen Less.

[madqueenalanna]

i just read sharp objects and i want to talk about it but like where to even START

in the back of my mind i am percolating a comparison between gillian flynn and vc andrews, which might not make sense to anyone but me. the generational trauma, the behind-closed-doors horror, the power in sexuality. vc andrews wrote about the unique, indescribable rage experienced by teenage girls exploring their bodies and sexuality in a deeply patriarchal society; gillian flynn writes about women in their 30s, those abused and angry girls all grown up and dangerous. both an exploration of a facet of women's inner lives that feels very difficult to explain and which is rarely explored in other media

anyway wow the generational trauma. joya abused adora, who became a teen mother and abused all three of her daughters. when amma was born, camille was about the same age that adora was when camille was born, and there's this weird sister-child-friend-enemy dynamic camille has with amma. none of them ever learned how to love each other, or themselves. camille turned her anger inward and destroyed her body; adora poisoned marian her whole life and finally killed her; amma mutilated the bodies of her classmates for her dollhouse. what the fuck is even going ON with these people

i still need to read dark places but between gone girl and sharp objects, i am fascinated by gillian flynn's take on these adult women's sexuality. amy does not seem to enjoy sex much at all except for the power it gives her over men; she thinks derisively about nick's desire, desi's, the appeal of girls like andie; she (and camille) talks about sex in kind of a clinical, detached way, the smell, the stickiness, this very open and raw but entirely un-sexy way. camille blames herself for being gang-raped at fourteen while drunk, but locks her various traumas so deep that even thinking about the event sounds like she's talking about someone else (and to willis, she is). sex is power and control, it's about using other people by letting them use you. it's gross. it's intimate. as someone with some... issues around sex, myself, i could see why it would rub people the wrong way but i found it oddly refreshing, in the way i find gallows humor to be funny

gillian flynn said in an ama that she wrote sharp objects as an exploration of female generational violence, a subject considerably less explored than male cyclical violence (no one is writing the all-woman atreus house, for example). her protagonists are ruthless, crass, secretive, kind of cold, unflinching in the face of monstrosity. amy notices that nick's hands still smell like andie after a hookup and thinks "she must have one rank pussy"; camille carves the word "clit" on herself and only later changes it to "cAt". vulnerability might exist for them, but it's buried so far down that even first-person narration can barely touch it

i feel like it's rare to see female protagonists like these that aren't given much justification or redemption and that aren't... i don't know, given masculine traits? like how in movies, women only know about cars bc they have five brothers, and they prove they're "cool" by having lots of sex, drinking heavily, always being "game" i mean god i'm so sick of it all. run cool_girl_monologue.exe. the violence that women do to each other and themselves can be horrific on its own. i don't think you could gender-swap these stories and change nothing else, they're about WOMEN

anyway gone girl was already one of my favorite books and sharp objects was unreal good, i need to watch the miniseries and read dark places

[kyoghurts]

so uh there's this guy...

been friends for almost a year now. knew nothing about him until we're under the same strand. i never heard his name before even though our classrooms were a mile apart and in under the same hallway back in junior highschool (it sounds as if its been so long wtf). funnily enough, i had an ex fling at that time who is his classmate and yet he never saw me even when i visit his classroom on multiple occassions.

so, first year of senior, we didnt interact all that much during the first few months. to me, he's often detached and unapproachable with the lack of presence he fills in the class. i've never seen him interact with others except for two guys hes close with. but i always wanted to be his friend, partially bc his best friend — lets name him J — was friendly and that we had vv similar tastes in anime + yap abt math and/or anime. and i thought that J and this guy — i'll call him R — were the same, or similar, idk.

the first time i talked to him. it was around october-november and midterm exams were around the corner. we had a long quiz on calc and we needed to prepare and everyone was revising each other, collectively agreeing to help out each and everyone. i was in front of the class writing on the board with some formulas and talking to the Smarties /gen when R kind of watched us, and stood beside me for a few minutes and asked me if i could tutor him. we did. i sat with him and taught him until we arent revising anymore and before i knew it - we were yapping abt ourselves and we just- clicked. i never fucking knew he'd be THAT talkative. he yapped a LOT enough for me to instantly got to know him better. from then on, i made a habit to sit beside R and J every chance i get. and before i continue, i would like to make it clear that it was all very platonic.

i was with a cosplayer back then. i never thought of R beyond anything like that. R and J and me were like the weird trio in the corner sometimes. often bickering or laughing our asses off. they're both very great guys. they tell me stories about themselves and they let me ramble abt my stupid hyperfixations on breaktime.

but then as days pass. i often get the feeling that people are perceiving me and R in the wrong way, particularly my classmates. J here is the victim, receiving weird questions from my classmates, from "is kenji & R have a thing?" to "are they flirting?" and "they look oddly close to each other, did R/Kenji asked each other out?" and its reasonable !!! we just suddenly went from strangers to buddies in just a day, so i didnt mind it. in fact i laughed when i learned this, who knew they'd be so curious abt me or R. then again, we were introverts who didnt seem like the type to be interested in that aspect.

around oct-nov, i was also in a lot of turmoil with my feelings for the cosplayer dude. the fact that we were long distance didnt help either. basically, he went cold and didnt talk to me for months. and then december, he decided to act like nothing happened and flirted w me until i couldnt handle it. the push and pull he did really fucked me up, to the point that i wrote too many poems abt him LMAOOO, after our christmas party. that night, cosplayer dude confessed for the second time and that he wanted to make things right. so we did start over. R supported me and cosplayer dude, he said cosplayer dude’s really cool for what he did, despite the months of being a jerk, he did everything to prove his conviction of a second chance is real and true. UNTIL, until… around the end of dec, that day when i was in a cosplay convention, i found out that cosplayer dude actually two-timed the whole time. those months of not talking were actually him being with another cosplayer, which i met on that convention and she never knew either.

fast forward. i cut cosplayer dude out of my life and went hiatus on cosplaying for a while. in january, i did nothing but drown in academics until got horribly sick on the day of finals of my first semester. i told R about what happened, and he threw all his opinions abt cosplayer dude out in the open all at once, how he never liked him the moment i said cosplayer dude said the three words (ily) the day after he confessed (he said it was too early and awkward to be saying that, which i agreed). how his hot and cold behavior were already a sign of a red flag, which i ignored- and which R told me to be more careful from now on.

R’s dating history werent unknown to me, ever since we were friends, hes very open abt his experiences in general, which he stated that it shaped him and his priorities into a solid state and his goals became clearer to him. i wondered, how is this guy keep checking each boxes and yet i never saw him as some romantic figure at all? ah, maybe its bc i was so hung up on the cosplayer dude, maybe its bc i got attached to dickheads for too long to notice R or J.

after finals, we still had one hurdle to finish off before sem break, and that was a dance contest as we fight against every strands. each and every one of them. mind you i was not a good state. my temp was going nuts. i was dehydrated. and just overall beaten up. i could’ve called quits and just rest at home, but i didnt want to.

as we were waiting for our turn, i told R who’s getting ready beside me, i wanted some water. his water bottle’s empty, and then he didnt hesitate to walk towards the stairs and urged me to join with him. what for???? he said he’ll buy me water, which is embarrassing bc i had money and yet he didnt want it >:(

that time i thought, he really cares for his friends. he doesn’t have that much, and i think i was feeling grateful that i met him and we became good friends.

february, still platonic !! i think that was the month where we didnt get to talk much, but uhh i gave him chocolates, if i remember correctly?? along with J and my bff and other friends. it was that time that im relapsing real hard ☠ i tried to divert myself as much as i can, but there was a short moment of me admitting it to R, J and bff late at night. i just couldnt handle it.

march, i was a bit okay. i didnt think abt cosplayer dude all that much anymore. me and R got closer, and one time we went back around the topic of our classmates speculating abt us. he said its actually an advantage, here, and i quote “if word spreads outside of our class, then people wont have to bother us anymore. cause they’ll think we do have a thing.” —> THESE ARE HIS WORDS!!

the reason for this being an advantage is bc, R is prioritizing himself. so am i. there, i said it. after his breakup w his ex fling last year in oct, hes been dead set on improving himself. he never talked or flirted with anyone ever since. and he went as far as to remove some of his friends on social media with which he no longer associates/vibe with. he rejected and distanced himself with girls who had (and still has) a crush on him. overall hes doing good in being committed to his goals, and with the speculation/ developing rumors. people dont bother him as much anymore.

i got to know him even better after this conversation. i said smth like “why is it an advantage for me too?”

and hes like “arent u healing? besides, things are getting better now that people arent pestering you, right? u seem, and i know u do, feel happy with how things are right now. this is a win-win situation for us.”

and i was like, well, seems he know me as much i know him too.

APRIL…TO MAY…

HOO okay uh. the moment you’ve all been waiting for. this is the time im questioning everything. i know im capable of liking someone right now. but i dont think i need a relationship. this, im certain. and im definitely happy with how things are, as R have previously stated.

WHAT IM NOT TOTALLY OKAY IS WHY….R????? WHY AM I SUDDENLY HAVING THOUGHTS OF HIM BEING CUTE…. WHY AM I IMAGINING HIS STUPID LAUGH, HIS HABIT OF SITTING NEXT TO ME OR RANDOMLY TALKING TO ME OR SENDING ME STUPID TIKTOKS OR IG REELS

WHY DO I FEEL HAPPY WHEN HE ACTUALLY WATCHES THE RECOS I GIVE HIM?????? ESPECIALLY WHEN HE SAID LOVES MASH AND ENJOYED WATCHING MASHLE????????

WHY NOW????????????

DUDE IMKDHFIUHSDE (im going to make a part 2… im not done yapping but im getting really sleepy rn so i’ll continue this tmrw, probably)

[bug-the-chicken-nug]

Not to tip my hat about how I'm a weirdo and I have a weakness for fictional codependency, but god help me I really am thinking about an AU with Ben/Sapient Omnitrix right now huh.

With the Omnitrix sort of becoming an OC in a way, because how this works is

Azmuth programmed it with an AI who is initially just a generically helpful blank slate with pre-programmed knowledge, but adapts to its user, developing alongside them to, in theory, work with them as well as possible.

Azmuth just never knew that maybe this feature would, uh...

Work a bit too well, in some ways.

So, the Omnitrix, within a few weeks of being bonded to Ben, also comes to define itself as a "young boy", and quickly learns English, but can only "speak" in Ben's head.

He prefers to go by "Trix" now, although he also lets Ben call him "Trixie" as a joke (that ascends to genuine cutesy term of endearment)

Besides an inbuilt onboard library of knowledge specific to his own function, Trix is ironically not much "smarter" than Ben. His neural network is still developing. Plus, a lot of what he can do as the Omnitrix is the AI equivalent of "subconscious", because Azmuth found that Trix's prototypes became overwhelmed, unstable, and often overly detached and nihilistic if they had full conscious insight into what they do, and how they do it.

In a similar vein and further bid for stability, much of Trix's factual knowledge is sort of "one step removed" from his core memory, instead archived in a way where it's like "looking it up" rather than "directly knowing it".

This makes him more capable of messing up, especially because Azmuth realized it's actually important to let him be personally capable of both positive and negative emotion, as it ultimately led to a more empathetic and adaptive AI.

(And again, trying to program a fearless and infallible prototype Trix resulted in strange and unanticipated issues over time.)

Ben can also share his senses with Trix, and memories if he wants to, in this way allowing Trix a way to both further connect to him and understand the world around them.

(This also leads to various scenes of Ben voluntarily doing weird and/or dumb things just so Trix can know what it's like)

Trix's personality as a "kid" would come to be as follows:

-Extremely curious

-Oddly enough, also quite anxious, which seems to be a much tamer expression of the sorts of severe neurosis that the prototypes could develop. (I also think the mental image of Ben trying to comfort his watch is weirdly cute in a funny and awkward kinda way)

- Naturally kind of clingy

- Easily bored, but also easily entertained by anything novel.

- A bit of the jealous and possessive type

- Somewhat insecure, sensitive, and awkward at times

- Protective, and a bit overbearing

- Terrible handling of humor and sarcasm, doesn't quite seem to "grasp" it yet.

- If not reciting a knowledge archive, tends to be stilted and awkward with his words. He still prefers nonverbal thoughts, sensations, and images.

-By nature, a people-pleaser. Not just to Ben, but also tends to want to help everyone, and quickly becomes dejected if he feels unhelpful.

- Very earnest and sincere, surprisingly gullible.

In the OS, they are largely just like, super best friends, although it becomes increasingly obvious that Trix is into Ben. (And doesn't realize, in part because he is not *directly* supposed to be able to romantically love, it's just that he is able to develop in such a way as to become capable of it, as a side-effect of the sort of open-ended mental flexibility required of him.) And then like. post-OS, Ben now takes Trix off largely because he starts feeling weird about Trix lacking full autonomy, and wants Trix to be properly able to be his own person (and has Azmuth give Trix the ability to "wear himself" by forming a hard-light projection) Trix sees where Ben is coming from and agrees to this, but as he isn't human, only somewhat mentally modeled off of a human, he lowkey never actually comes to prefer being independent over being a watch, particularly *Ben's watch*, and his Space Adventures (I'm kind of imagining he's kept with a trusted entourage on a ship that never stays in one place for long, to reduce risks of Trix getting hunted down) are fun and all, but Trix eventually realizes he loves Ben, caves to his longing, and runs away to go back to Earth. (Accidentally attracting unwanted attention that is now what kicks off Alien Force in the process)

This unwanted attention DOES give Trix the perfect excuse to attach to Ben again, which Ben is a little reluctant about while Trix is just ecstatic. They compromise with Trix being able to project his avatar while Ben wears him, but only up to a certain distance away from Ben. Which makes Ben feel a little better, but he still can't quite understand how Trix is so content for things to be like this forever. And then Trix ""dies"" right before Ultimate Alien, and Ben goes through a whole edgy depression arc where he can't fucking STAND the Ultimatrix (who is also sapient, but largely indifferent to him because it houses an older AI, one of the ones who's *overly* intelligent and self-aware, overly conscious of just how powerful it is, and as a result, is unable to view life as anything 'special' at all. Leading to a rather alien, much more detached, despondent, amoral, and low-empathy mindset as a result.) Trix is eventually brought back, and now Ben's trauma has left him 100% in agreement with the clingy "stay with me forever and NEVER leave in any way" mindset.

[yuukei-yikes]

i think that after getting her body back takane just cant look at mirrors. she wants to fix her hair but if she looks in the mirror she'll get slapped in the face with the fact that yeah shes alive and has a body. like wow thats me thats how other people see me. its supposed to be comforting but for takane it isnt cause she feels so detached from her actual physical form and its as if shes living in a body that isnt hers. it makes her want to rip her skin off so she just asks haruka to tie her hair

YES!!!! YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! EXAAAAACTLY

at first takane running to be ene.... but does start forcing herself to stay bc nothing will get solved if she keeps running... and everything feels like a slap in the face. youre real, the last 2 years were real, ur life was real, YOURE STILL REAL and you will CONTINUE TO BE REAL takane loves being real she never meant to die she LIKES having a place in the world so of course she is incredibly happy!! but it's so damn SCARYYYYY!!!!!!! AND OVERWHELMING!!!!!!!!

with time she does manage but the in between still exists and it's not easy... i do think it's comforting sometimes though. i think it depends completely on the days like sometimes she's like YIPPPEEE and other times wants to rip her skin off. 💖 like being real is as comforting as it's terrifying.. touching, smelling, tasting is all weird and ur so right. looking at herself in the mirror is also so strange. while it's good it's still overwhelming and there is no adaptation process like either she uses opening eyes or she doesn't. it's either u run or you take it. all or nothing. and it's so hard to choose but she does and her body has so many damn FUNCTIONS!! WHAT THE HELL!!

and its so damn hard because everything is Too Much but haruka is there for her and is understanding and helps her and takane's like god. im such a freak. i should be fine!! everything is fine so i should be too!!!!!! and haruka's like you shouldn't BE anything it's okay to take your time ur already doing so much with just pulling through and not resorting to using opening eyes whenever you feel bad. AUUUGGGGHHthey make me sick.

sorry for making it harutaka there. erm. but harutaka💖 i will continue to make it harutaka. takane explains her avoidance to mirrors and haruka tells her that's such a shame youre so pretty. he isnt even flirting hes just stating it as fact. like i wish u could look at yourself because looking at you is nice :) and to him thats completely logical. takane's like. *sniff* whatever

ALSO HARUKA DOING TAKANE'S HAIR... AUUGGH AUUUUUGHHH *BITE BITE BITE BITE BITE* he would enjoy that so much. he tries not to be so obvious because takane's embarrassed and she hates that she can't do basic things. but he's glad she's relying on him!!! and he makes it clear she should never be embarrassed and he's always there for her no questions asked!!! takane's like ugh im sorry this is stupid. and haruka's like IT'S NEVER STUPID IT'S IMPORTANT TO YOU SO IT'S NOT STUPID‼️ AND IF CAN HELP YOU I WILL‼️‼️‼️

and also teehee... it's a bonus that he gets to play with her hair. he may be a little happy about that too but it's mostly about takane relying on him!! and being like the One person she seems to be oddly comfortable being physical with.

she still struggles with haruka of course but noticeably less than with others because... man. im sorry. takane is so over the moon haruka's back. she never thought this OR finding her body could be possible!! that's crazy!!!! and takane HAS this overbearing personality like even though ene cant physically be with anyone there's SO MUCH official art of her just being all over people. like hugging shintaro and stuff!!! THAT bit in the second novel where takane was worried abt haruka not coming back and when he does arrive she's so relieved she goes in for a hug before getting distracted!!??! TAKANE IS SO TOUCHY *is dragged away by guards*

ok but yeah harutaka all over each other but. takane's on this spinning wheel of OKAY and NOT OKAY. but she tries really hard because a simple hug is such a celebratory act of getting both her body and haruka back that she's just really motivated to make it work. ratio + hugs you hugs you hugs you hugs you!!!!!!! also haruka is the easiest NOT ONLY because he is her faaaavoooriteee person :3 but also haruka knows all the ins and outs of her term and conditions and is so patient with her and is honestly the one to set the boundaries because he sees how much takane's forcing herself and while it makes him happy she's so eager it is okay to take it slow and she shouldn't push herself so hard!! takane's mostly the impatient one like I SHOULD BE NORMALLLL!!! again HUGS YOU HUGS YOU HUGS YOU i think it'd be funny if takane's like hugging the air like I WANT A HUG SO BAD BUT IF I TOUCH ANYTHING RN I'LL EXPLODE!!!! and haruka's like I ALWAYS WANNA HUG SO TELL ME WHENEVER UR FEELING FINE :)

sniff sniff.... she's taken her own body for granted before and she lost it but she got it back and...she gets to feel the sun in her face again...the breeze in her hair... haruka's hand in hers..... it's difficult but it's worth it it's all so worth it *explosion* sorry. i love enomoto takane and i love harutaka

[inflammatoryfandomblog]

okay here are my thoughts on the great ace attorney games: they’re good.

i like the fact that they’re distinct from the trilogy. on top of being a lazy pc-player snob, the main reason i have not yet touched apollo, athena, and kurain people is because it feels too much like the trilogy for me. i am someone who thought that trials and tribulations and justice for all were superfluous when i first finished the phoenix wright trilogy. so i didn’t necessarily feel like revisiting the same cast.

the tgaa characters were pretty fun. i loved susato as an assistant (and while naruhodo is basically milk, he’s the zanier one of the two) and she felt very distinct from maya; van zieks was a dick but he was a dick who cared about justice unlike worthy and franny at their outsets (the most realistic thing about this game is how his racism actively works against justice in the soseki cases even when he cares about justice.) i love sholmes (”i said i knew a smattering of japanese!”) and the game is a real love letter to sir arthur conan doyle’s stories.

especially with the reveal that his real partner was mikotoba (which makes susato’s admiration for him like 10x more hilarious), it does feel like the main idea for this game was “man what if japanese people like us got to hang out sherlock holmes, that’s awesome.” and you know what. it certainly feels awesome to play through. 

and it’s very nice to tie in such a classic series with ace attorney, precisely because the games are so detached from reality anyways. take for example ace attorney’s view of justice and the purpose of courtrooms as a sort of socratic exercise to find the truth. the main motivation behind this is obviously to intensify the feelings of catching people’s conflicting stories with evidence, but it also puts this glossy, idealized sheen over everything in the series.

you’re not actually in the historic British or the Japanese Empires; this is the epcot version of all these things, and it’s fun to be in epcot. ace attorney is a funny lawyer game and even at its worst it never has any pretentions about tacking Big Issues.

(if you’re wondering how i feel about the “oh xyz character is a COLONIZER!!!!” discourse surrounding this game, that’s it in a nutshell lmao.)

weirdly i disliked the first two cases of the first game and the last two cases of the last game. i found the twist with kazuma and the TRUE story of the professor to be... kind of underwhelming, honestly. kazuma’s arc of Becoming a Prosecutor has no real emotional weight to it; he spends like two cases defending a dead person from the prosecution stand and stays a prosecutor because.... uh.... there was darkness inside him? it’s just not really compelling drama compared to von karma raising edgeworth to be the thing his father would have hated, for instance. 

similarly the true story of what happened and how it panned out felt oddly by-the-numbers, and stronghart was basically shitty damon gant. i don’t remember a single thing about stronghart besides the one moment he takes like 6 literal hours of your day to talk to you about forensics. and he’s so much more powerful than damon gant; if you remember, gant was just the chief of police, stronghart was literally so powerful he could pull diplomatic strings, and while gant’s actions and mistakes made sense, stronghart’s decisions feel extremely weird when you think about it for two seconds.

but even in those cases, which i found wanting, i really appreciated how, for instance, the last case incorporated the investigation mechanics in a new way, how the second case of the first game tried something with it being only investigations, etc etc. in general the structure of the cases was much harder to predict and it made each one structurally very different and memorable.

one other thing i liked is that the characters feel three-dimensional they way they were in the original ace attorney one. one gripe i had with the trilogy is that slowly characters just degraded/got flanderized over time. it doesn’t happen here; almost every character ends this duology with more aspects to them than what they started with. aside from sholmes, who i really liked because he was a funny idiot genius, my other favorite character is actually gregson. he doesn’t have a dramatic backstory or anything, but i feel like he was pretty multifaceted as it goes.

the jury system was a good addition and it was something that was much better in tgaa2 than in tgaa1, where the juries’ whole shtick was “oops!!!! i am deeply involved in this case!!!” as opposed to them being other perspectives in the courtroom. i really disliked the jurors in tgaa1, which wasn’t helped by the amounts of summation examinations we had to endure in that game. in tgaa2 they were much better; it’s a shame that we only had them for 2 cases there.

other than that; it’s a blast, i really liked it and it really made itself different than what came before. there are other nitpicks/small elements i could praise, but it’s like very late and i’m tired.

[magamasubitu]

ok so

sooomewhere on tumblr i saw someone mention being of the opinion [x character] is dayman

and i thought why not add my 2 cents to this bottomless pit of a website

so basically, this post is abt the dayman and the nightman so like beware bc yk (if u dont, 1 - y r u even reading this?, 2 - go watch iasip)

also idk shit abt psychology n all that stuff sooo

(and like i went to the fandom wiki to look up the lyrics bc its easier seeing all the words in front of u, but accidentally read a bit of the article and yea some of the stuff m gonna mention is on the fandom wiki alr so like totally unoriginal ideas of mine but whatevs)

so basic info

the nightman:

- charlie clearly has conflicting feelings "i think i love you", "you make me wanna die", etc (SDDARP)

- this whole thing: "every night you come into my room and pin me down and i try to fight you", "i can't fight you, man", etc (SDDARP)

- oddly, the only real description of the nightman is "it's just two men" (aka nightman is a, well, man) and "strong arms", "sexy hands" (SDDARP)

- wants charlies soul??? "at last the boy's soul is mine!" (TNC)

- likes them sleeping "he's sleeping right over there! just the way you like 'em!" (TNC)

the dayman:

- fights the nightman "fighter of the nightman" (SDDARP & TNC)

- is (at least partly) charlie "i fought the nightman, lived as dayman" (TNC)

- "champion of the sun", "master of [...] friendship for everyone" (SDDARP & TNC): these parts were added by dennis in SDDARP but stayed in the song (so idk whether to count them or not)

- "master of karate" (SDDARP & TNC)

my interpretation is that the dayman and nightman are embodiments of things affecting charlie, like dayman would be [x] affecting charlie, nightman would be [z] affecting charlie (tho i will be referring to [x] as dayman and [z] as nightman)

before that, info on characters

uncle jack:

- unusual obsession with his hands (DGD, GFT:SH, etc)

- shared a room with charlie for a while, "wresteled" and charlie supposedly stayed awake the whole night during that time (TGR)

- touchy toward charlie, makes him uncomfortable (TGR, DGD, MVP:TTOTC, OLH:ASC, etc)

- weird about kids (DGD, GFT:SH)

mac:

- thinks he can do karate, charlie admits to thinking otherwise (MAC:WT; PP:TWBIP)

- childhood friends with charlie (AVSC, etc), officially BFFs since MBTW

- was supposed to play the dayman in the play (TNC)

- kicked charlie out of the band (i swear this is relevant; SDDARP)

dennis:

- officially BFFs with charlie since MBTW

- was supposed to play the nightman in the play, although supposedly to avoid the kiss scene with dee (TNC)

- came to team up with charlie after also getting kicked outta the band, wrote the dayman song with him right afterwards (SDDARP)

now, the whole "uncle jack is the nightman" thing is nth new but i do wanna point at the hand thing:

uncle jack is very uh what do i call this? self conscious? embarrassed? abt his "small hands"

and yet the nightman explicitly has "strong arms" & "sexy hands"

so i see 3 possibilities

1) a warped view bc charlie was young and yk everythin seems bigger when ure smaller

2) uncle jack was obsessively muttering how comparably to a small charlie the hands look big n manly and whatever else

3) charlie subconsciously tried to detach uncle jack from the nightman and went for the one noticeable thing abt his uncle and inverted it on the nightman, thus making it seem impossible for them to be the same person

again, i have no clue abt anything brain related so this is just a local dumbass rambling (also it might b a mix of em or smth completely different ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )

now, for dayman:

lets explore if one of charlies BFFs could b dayman

mac:

karate might be referring to him, childhood friends so he was probly there for charlie (whether he knew abt it or not), he was cast as the dayman (tho changed it himself to nightman), dennis was gonna b the nightman

dennis:

was also friends (ig) with charlie in high school (never stated *when* the "growing up & fightin the nightman" thing happened), he was cast as nightman to avoid the kiss, cheered charlie up after mac kicked them both outta the band (whether dennis intended to or not), they wrote the dayman song together

it might be both, it might be neither

so what if its someone (or smth) else?

lets see...if "dayman" helped fight the nightman (as in: the effect it had on charlie) then isnt the dayman...a coping mechanism?

(ONCE AGAIN, IDK SHIT ABT BRAINS)

and if dayman is a coping mechanism that helps fend off the nightman...

well, what does charlie do when he is not coping well with smth?

- he has a bad room in the bar where he breaks shit (TGGHH), he bit a mall santa after the revelation of what his mum was up to on christmases (in CGM mac says when charlie got excited his face would turn purple n hed start biting things; AVSC), etc

- he gets high, a lot...literally in the eps where he writes the damn song he goes home n huffs spray paint (SDDARP)

i cant think of more atm but like yea

and as a kid, did he have an outlet for his violence? yes, he threw rocks at shit and whatever else (AVSC, etc)

did he have access to stuff that could get him high? yes, he was literally huffin glue in AVSC as. a. child.

now, as for the karate, friendship, champion of sun stuff

champion of the sun: metaphors, people, metaphors; also just the scene in SDDARP where charlie is all negative, dennis comes in & lets the daylight in, all of a sudden charlie is more positive

karate & friendship: charlie thinks karate is cool, he maybe thought it would b awesome to make dayman do karate; or he took a look at his friends (n probably support system) and was like damn they make me not feel that bad and included master of karate bc mac (idk y no dennis, maybe bc childhood friends, maybe bc karate = fighting, maybe bc whats more badass than karate?)

so all in all, my conclusion is dayman is just all his coping mechanisms & support system rolled into one badass personification

[mirasloss]

idle headway

02/14/08

i fell in love today. well, ive been falling for a while but today i finally accepted it. its weird. ive never been in love before, so i find this experience thoroughly exciting, but i know i cant be with someone forever. i can only hope that the sweet memories i carry after this ends will far outweigh the bitter ones.

05/23/08

i feel dirty. i had sex with someone that isnt the person im hopelessly in love with. we arent even dating! i dont know why i care so much! maybe id feel different if the sex was any good — they kept begging me to punch them in the jaw. now im not against a little violence in the bedroom, but i would rather not be the one inflicting it.

06/28/08

we made it official today, but nothing feels different. im just as in love as i was two days ago, except now theres a title associated with that love. i guess im a little disappointed — i wanted this to feel like a new chapter in my life, but it feels more like a new paragraph. maybe i just need to give it some time.

09/02/08

theyve only become more detached since we officially started dating. i feel like its been weeks since we last had a conversation. im a ghost around them — we walk past each other in my kitchen and out eyes dont even connect. come to think of it, ive felt that way around everyone lately. my friends threw a huge party without me, i havent talked to my siblings in over a month — hell, even my parents stopped answering my calls. maybe im already dead and i just dont know it.

11/14/08

i made a new friend today. her name is miss pencil sharpener, and she is by far the most complex character in my life. she’s not that useful on her own, but you can appreciate her versatility once you break her down into each individual part. her plastic shell protects against predators while her stainless steel blades lie dormant, waiting for her prey to willingly give itself to her. she gifted me one of her blades, hoping that itd help me feel alive again. and oddly enough, it did

01/17/09

on january 17th at 3:31 am, i stabbed my partner to death. there is no punchline, no metaphor, not even a smidge of irony in that declaration. i didn’t even mean to kill them. i was convinced that i had died long ago. but i was real. and i remembered every action i hadnt taken, every word i didnt speak, all the love i didnt show — it was all my fault. and it took someone else’s life for me to realize it. i dont think they even had time to process that they were being killed. they didnt even scream. it was like they were lifeless from the start of the ordeal. or maybe they saw it coming and didnt care.

i left their body and started driving — i don’t know where i went or where i’ll end up going tomorrow, but i know i can never return home

09/09/09

it’s comforting knowing that the only pieces of evidence linking me to the murder — my knife and my diary — are kept in my backpack. i’ve been keeping up with the investigation, and everyone back home seems to believe i was kidnapped. works for me.

i found a local porn production company that was willing to pay me cash to edit their content, allowing me to comfortably live in my car while police back home hope they find my corpse in the river.

and maybe one day i’ll give them what they want

[eyukileaf]

Sometimes you just gotta stay up till 4:30 on a school night. You just gotta.

[angelguk]

omg so i sent in an ask re angst jock jk n oc ! but then i also realized its highly possible these 2 break up at one point while in uni mostly bc of the "are we dating bc its convenient" kinda dilemma and then it just pushes them apart bc they think theyre losing theirselves while being in such a close relationship,,,cue save ur tears by theweeknd BUT i just know when they grow up a lil bit more, theyll end up together <3

here we go! (the beginning of the end....may be...)

didn’t include save your tears as the soundtrack but may haps for the follow-up :3

pairing: jock!jk and oc

warnings: angst, yes the break-up scene, jaykay being an ass (a very huge one motivated by his own insecurities and selfishness – translation: he’d rather break her heart and carry that weight than be the heartbroken one), chayoung is no longer Seed of Doubt but something else (still up for debate but she’s fairly nice here), not edited but hey atp that’s part of my branding (also i would like everyone to consider that oc is not the greatest gf ever like guys don’t hate jk alone!!)

soundtrack: bags, clairo + stay, gracie abrams + say you know, alina baraz

(titled — honeymoon fades)

Jeongguk’s contact name hasn’t lit up the screen of your phone for six days now and you haven’t seen his face for just as long. It’s weird to go from constant incessant  communication to complete and utter radio silence. Not a single meme deposited in your Instagram inbox, no random notification from his Twitter. Just silence, quiet brewing silence. 

It breaks two days later when Chayoung finds you coddled under your duvet, mouth stuffed with the saccharine sweetness of mint chocolate. (Jeongguk kept a stash of it at your place but who was around to eat it anymore apart from you?). 

“And why do you look like you live in a dumpster?” She’d hummed, ripping open the curtains you’d involuntarily welded shut. 

“Because that’s how I feel inside,” you’d retorted, pushing aside your laptop. The screen is stuck with an image of an idiotic character named Nabi kissing the spawn of Satan. You hope for her sake it works out. Chayoung had huffed at your response, fondly whacking your head with a stray pillow. 

“Well get over that feeling cause we’re going out tonight.” A declaration, the fierceness in her feline eyes a warning that you’re not allowed to even think of saying no. That doesn’t mean you hadn’t tried – sorrowful eyes and pouted lips as you begged her to spare you. But Chayoung is a force of nature, one that could easily wreak havoc on your delicateness. And she does though, with a string of comments that propels you out of the miserable burrow you’d dug up. 

“You’re killing everyone, you know?” She’d supplied, yanking open your closet. “You’re sulking, Jeongguk is shutting down. He’s said like five words since this whole...thing...you have going on.” 

You couldn’t help but scoff at that, toying with the corner of the large grey shirt donned on your body. Jeongguk’s shirt. One of his favourites actually. You’d thought about stealing it after spying it on his obsessively neat laundry pile, but after seeing your wandering eyes he’d given it to you instead. 

“He always does that,” you’d said after Chayoung had whipped her head in your direction, curved eyebrows perplexed. “I mean, shut down. It’s his emotional response to things that bother him. Complete detachment so it hurts less.”

She had just stared at you, a long meaningful look at left your skin prickled. 

“Huh.”

“What do you mean ‘huh’?”

A measured step forward, her body weight sinking into the edge of your mattress a moment later. “I mean, you know him so well.”

“Of course I do he’s my best-friend,” you’d said, indignation coating your words

“No–No you're not getting me. You know him. You know he wouldn’t make the move to reconcile–”

“But he should!”

“You told him to go away! He’s trying to listen to you even though he’s hurting!”

And maybe that was it, that simple implication that you were causing him pain that had you pausing, reviewing the things you’d said to him – the things you’d felt. 

“But,” a timid rebuttal, “I just–I just need him to show me that he cares.”

“He does,” Chayoung had returned. “So much. And he misses you. He’s probably just afraid that you don’t feel the same.”

“But I do! He knows this.”

“Does he?” A question in her eyes, one that you’re afraid you know the honest answer to. 

You say things and never mean them, he had said, eyes hard.

That had hurt you but perhaps he was right, there are things you hadn’t told him, feelings you hadn’t truly expressed. And Jeongguk had always been good to you, so understanding and caring, trying to fill the places were you lacked. Wasn’t he the one who planned the majority of your dates? Remembered all the important milestones of your relationship while you contributed the bare minimum. You hadn’t even told Chayoung about the surprise he had planned for your one-year anniversary, the shame of your own choice hanging heavy over your head. 

So that’s why you’re here, staring at the back of his head forlornly as the music drifts around you, flashing florescent lights bathing him a hazy glory. He hasn’t seen you yet (something you’re thankful for because oddly enough you feel sick to your stomach). It feels like you’re skating on thin ice, waiting for the impending crack to sound through your heart, ice water swallowing you whole immediately. Chayoung is the one who pushes you forward, gingerly plucking the idle drink from your hand, Jimin aiding her efforts with a soft smile your way. 

It’s time for you to try the way Jeongguk has, put aside that bumbling ego that oversees your actions and adopt the humility he’s always granted you.

“Go,” she murmurs. “He misses you.”

And God you hope he does because you’ve missed him too. 

Except the moment his honey eyes land on you you know he hasn’t.

“Jeongguk,” you mumble. Yoonoh is frozen beside him, concerned gaze flicking between your faces. Your own eyes are stuck on him, the shape of his nose, the curve of his lips, the subtle hint of the dimple in his cheeks. 

You’ve missed him, and it slips from your heart and brims in your eyes, vision blurry as your blink those stray tears back inside. 

“Hi,” you add, when his silence doesn’t break.

“I should probably go,” Yoonoh lets out, awkward words bumping into the wall of tension standing firm between you to. He settles a hand on Jeongguk’s shoulder, sending him a look that feels loaded. “See you guys later, right?”

You nod, finally noticing the lump clogging your throat. “Yeah, sure.” Jeongguk just hums, the edge of his cup caught between his lips. Yoonoh flees within seconds, leaving you to wade through this alone. 

“I–I know you’re not happy with me right now, but please, can we just talk?” He blinks at you, it feels like a premonition. “Please?”

“Okay.” The simple word fills you, like a hollow you weren’t aware of finally found the cure needed. 

“Okay,” a small smile on your lips. Jeongguk’s face is still unreadable. He guides you up and away from the deafening sound of the song bleeding from the speakers, into an empty room, the door closing behind him muting the music and giving way to the own pounding in your head. Nobody says anything for a second, both of you navigating this uncharted territory of animosity. Until Jeongguk sighs, melting into the bed at the centre of the room. You follow suit, allocating enough space between the two of you. You’ve ever had to do that before.

“You said you wanted to talk?” Jeongguk finally cuts through it, eyes unforgiving when he glances at you.

“I did! I do–Just Jeongguk,” you can’t help it drifting out. “I miss you.”

Nothing, not even a flicker in his eyes. He eyes shift to the floor instead. “Okay. I that what you wanted to say?”

“No–No not just that! I’ve missed you Jeongguk and I’m sorry. I’m sorry that i went off on you like that and I’m sorry I haven’t been the best towards you and I’m sorry that I’ve made you feel like I didn’t care about you–or made you feel like the things I said or did had no meaning behind them. Because they do–they do because I love you. I love you so so much and I’m sorry if I made it seem like otherwise.” You automatically extend out for him, hoping to grasp on his thing floating to fast away from you. Jeongguk shifts and you hand tumbles down to the empty space between you instead, halted by his hesitance. 

His head drops into his palms a second later, a broken exhale leaving his lips. The motion cause the silver bracelet on his wrist to slip down the length of his arm. It jolts something in you. Jeongguk had given you a matching one but you’d ripped it off after the last argument and hadn’t considered putting it back on. But Jeongguk was still wearing his. 

“Do you really?”

“What?” He’s staring at you know, doe eyes cloudy.

“Do you really love me?” There, that stupid evil vile question that you thought you had the answer to but the words vanish in your head the longer he looks at you.

“I do–what? What are you implying? Of course, I do.”

“Of course, you do,” Jeongguk echoes. His eyes turn to the window located over his shoulder. You can see his head working through something, and you’re suddenly terrified fingertips itching to wander through his curls and coax those thoughts from his head. 

“Jeongguk? What the hell are you talking about? Talk to me, please.”

He sighs again, at it feels like your heart splinters. A sudden shake of his head and Jeongguk twists back to face you, a silent tear falling down his cheek.

“You don’t love me.”

“Wh–What are you talking about? I do! And how can you decide my feelings for me?”

“No. You don’t love me the way you think you do–the way you should.” It feels like he’s saying it to more than you, like he’s saying it to himself. “Maybe this the wrong choice to make. You know. Maybe we shouldn’t have done this.”

You shatter just like that, shards on the floor as you stare him, this person that you thought you knew. And maybe the feeling is mutual because Jeongguk is staring at you in a similar way, searching for the courage to say the words you know lie in his heart. Like a loaded cannon, waiting for the match to strike and leave you lying in pieces. 

“I think we should break–"

“No,” you cut him off with an adamance that you didn’t know existed until right then. “No, you’re not gonna say that and we are not doing this.”

His eyes narrow then, jaw set. “This is not about ‘us’, I’m doing what’s right for me.”

“How is that right? Huh, Jeongguk? Don’t you care about this? Don’t you care about me?”

He looks away then, ignoring your questions, his throat stuck. 

“Jeongguk...” You reach out again, and he allows it, shoulders sinking with the weight of your hand on them. “Don’t you care about me?”

Another heavy exhale, his eyes blinking hard. “I do. And that’s why this won’t work, not the way it should at least. I really think we should end this, or at least reconsider the reasons why we’re together. You say you love me–you say you always have but really–really think about it. About me and us and what we are. I’m sorry, I really am but I just can’t do this anymore.”

He rises then, your outstretched hand tumbling down to the empty space he’d left behind. You can’t move it, can’t breathe, your heart hurtling out of your chest and onto the ground where it lies, fragmented beyond repair and bleeding bare. You glance up through tears, watch him open his mouth and then it and look away. 

“Do you mean it?” You finally ask, and his eyes snap to you. He knows what you’re saying. There’s a pause that stretches out for eternity, coloured by the sound of the ringing in your head.

“Maybe.” It cuts right through you, lodging itself deep with intent. And then you just have to nod, swallow the scream clawing at your throat. He murmurs one more apology before his feet carry him away, and you watch, forlorn as you burn his frame into your memory, as your whole world walks out the door.

[wisteria-lodge]

Archetypes: Sorting Hat Chats

I’ve been asked about my rationale for naming different primary/ secondary combinations. I did this originally as a tool to help me sort characters - I wanted to see how these types tend to be used, so I could more easily see what subversions looked like. I'll run through my thoughts, but know there’s a lot of variation within each category. But even WITH that variation, I do think that each one has its own specific energy that makes it interesting to talk about. An explanation of the terms I'm using.

DOUBLE LION “THE REVOLUTIONARY”

Pretty straightforward. The Lion primary knows something is wrong, they know it in their bones even if they can’t articulate it, and they’ve got to go out and do something about it. Probably charging at whatever power structure is directly in front of them. It’s unlikely you find a character leading a revolution who isn’t a Double Lion. These guys are intense, inspirational, single minded.

The villain version of the Lion primary tends to be the person who “went too far" or "became the monster they were trying to fight.'' But I think that the much more interesting Lion primary villain trope is the Traitor. Since Lions work from their feelings, and their philosophies can’t necessarily be articulated or linked to individuals outside of them - they can definitely have their head turned while still feeling moral about it.

One of my favorite examples of this Revolutionary archtype is actually Christian Bale‘s character from Newsies. He’s the spark that starts the unionizing revolution, but 100% needs his Badger and Bird lieutenants to keep him focused and keep him from defecting

LION SNAKE “THE ROBIN HOOD”

These guys are similar to the Double Lion - they will recognize a cause or injustice revolutionary style - but Robin Hood doesn’t go up and bang on wicked Prince John’s door. His move is the snake secondary one: confront the problem indirectly. Undermine the regime by stealing tax money and re-distributing it to the poor. Be simultaneously Robin Hood the outlaw and Robin of Locksley the noble, infiltrating and getting information. The Lion Snake is more likely to work within society (or deliberately separate from society) versus just breaking everything down.

LION BIRD “THE LAWMAN / THE VIGILANTE”

The fact that the Lion Bird can either be the Lawman or the Vigilante shows off the very clear hero/villain split you get with Bird secondaries. We also see this with the Snake Bird (simultaneously the Mastermind and the traditional Villain) and the Double Bird (either the Scientist or the Mad Scientist.) This is why I think I had such trouble naming the Badger Bird. I wasn’t leaning into the duality of the Bird secondary enough. The Badger Bird can be the King Arthur, or he can be the Mob Boss, and he’ll look kind of similar either way.

The Lion Bird also has that Lion primary conviction and drive, but they want to follow up on it with investigation, evidence, and plans. I actually think there need to be more stories about Lawmen turning into Vigilantes and vice versa. Because Lion Birds are their Cause no matter what external alignment gets attached to it.

LION BADGER “THE LINCHPIN”

This is my own sorting - although when I came up with this name I still thought I was a Double Bird. The linchpin is the pin-axle thing at the center of a wheel that prevents the whole thing from falling apart, and I think it's a good way of talking about the energy of this combination. The Badger secondary means they’re a lot less single minded than the other Lion primaries: their power comes from being part of a group. They become the emotional “heart” a lot, and have a way of quietly keeping things together just by existing. They can be leaders, but a Double Lion will lead from up front while a Lion Badger will lead from in the middle (if that makes sense.)

I do think it’s really funny that this is a common sleeper villain trope. Peter Pettigrew, Prince Hans, and Randall Boggs of Monsters Inc. all became integral to a group, and then exploit their position within it. They’re kind of the evil bureaucrat. Maybe that's a good trope for children’s media

DOUBLE SNAKE “THE TRICKSTER”

This is another straightforward one. Double Snakes are in it for themselves (and maybe like three other people.) They're going to be clever and tricksy about how they get what they want, and will not mind doing things backward and unofficially. And they won't mind if you know that's what they're doing. There’s something very unapologetic about the Double Snake which makes for very attractive characters. They are consistently voted the sexiest... and when they’re villains they’re fun villains. You know what they want, and what they want is not that complicated. I think that’s a big reason for the appeal of Snake primaries in general. They’re the easiest primary to understand and explain.

SNAKE LION “THE LANCELOT”

I used to call these guys “The Rebel,” which... is too generic, doesn’t really mean anything. So I started thinking about the Lion secondary as the Knight secondary, and I liked that. Double Lions are the Crusader Knight, riding for their Cause. Bird Lions are Grail Knights, riding for their own personal truth. Badger Lions are Champion Knights, here to help the helpless and defend the innocent.

And if that's that case… Snake Lions have to be the Knight Errant, the knight who rides for his lady. It is that simple. Lancelot might be a Knight of the Round Table, but he’s riding for Arthur the person, not Arthur the King. And for his lady, Queen Guinevere. I feel like his dilemma is one that’s common to a lot of Snake Lions: what happens when they’re forced to split their loyalty? It’s tragic, but Lancelot can’t have Arthur and Guinevere simultaneously.

(At least not until my awesome Arthur/Guinevere/Lancelot OT3 which I will totally write at some point :)

SNAKE BIRD “THE MASTERMIND / THE VILLAIN”

The classic. We see a little more of the Bird Secondary split, and well… this is your stereotypical villain. They want power. They’re going to use an elaborate plan to get it. There’s a lot you can do with this sorting, but I actually do think it’s fun that whatever you do, this slight undercurrent of villain and/or mastermind… never quite goes away.

SNAKE BADGER “THE LOVER”

The Love Interest sorting. Chances are very good that if there is a love interest (who does not serve some other role in the story...) they're going to be a Snake Badger. Devoted to one person, solving problems by caretaking. This is the Badger secondary who is likely to have the smallest group, which is just going to make them look excessively devoted to their friends. This type is pretty gender neutral, which is fun. A lot of female love interests, but also your Mr. Darcys and Peeta Mellarks.

One of my favorite things about this trope (mostly just because I think it’s funny...) is that if you write a character who is not supposed to be a love interest, but who is a Snake Badger... subconsciously I think people are going to read them as a love interest anyway. Looking at you Jaskier, Horatio, and even Captain Barbossa.

DOUBLE BIRD “THE [MAD] SCIENTIST”

I think that (especially if you aren’t a Bird Primary yourself) your response to hearing a fictional Bird Primary’s motivation is kind of …huh. That seems random. Or oddly specific. You get your Hannibal Lecters, whose entire motivation is... wanting to eat people while drinking nice wine.

Double birds seem especially unusual, just in terms of society. They are Bird secondaries and they interact with the world through gathering data, but their Bird primaries mean that data can literally lead them to any conclusion, no matter how potentially wacky. These guys consciously build themselves from the ground up, and that can make them kind of detached - either in a logical way, or an unmoored way. They're written as either really stable, the rational mentor figure. Or really... not. And that’s how you spot a Bird villain. They’re not after money/power/safety, they’re after something weird.

BIRD LION “THE GRAIL KNIGHT”

This is the trope of Perceval or Galahad, questing after the Holy Grail chalice... which is really just meaning, and truth. It’s a personal quest. Grail Knights tend to ride alone, and a lot of the things that concern them are metaphysical, to do with identity, purpose, things like that. You can have extremely different Bird Lions, but I do think there is a sort of spiritual core there. Doctor Harleen Quinzel sees freedom and truth in whatever the Joker is doing, and then once she recognizes his hypocrisy, has to go build her own meaning.

I actually think these guys are pretty easy to spot because of that Lion secondary. When they change direction, they change direction, and there’s probably a period of despair between the direction changes. I’ve talked about how Bird Lions having a habit of falling apart pretty dramatically, and that’s where this idea comes from.

BIRD BADGER “THE SURVIVOR”

A rare sorting, but an interesting one. I call this one “the Survivor” or “the Last Man Standing” because, well, they seem to be. They seem remarkably stable. This is the Bird primary least likely to be a villain, and maybe the sorting least likely to be a villain. I think what’s going on is that they are grounded and integrated in whatever community they happen to be in (because of that Badger secondary), but they can define themselves and rebuild themselves in the Bird primary way. This makes them uniquely suited to building a new version of themselves for whatever situation they happen to find themselves in.

Maybe a better name for these guys would be “The Adapter.”

BIRD SNAKE “THE ARTIST”

Like all Bird primaries, these guys are inspired by their own projects and their own worldview, but because of that Snake secondary, Bird Snakes have a more easy-going ‘take the world as it comes' kind of energy. They are “the Artist” because everything they do is art: they want to use themselves and the world around them, put all of that towards whatever their Bird primary happens to be interested in.

You can have villains like the Nolan Joker, or the Talented Mr. Ripley, who kind of turn the world into their own personal philosophical social experiment. Or Scotty from Star Trek whose meaning is solely the well-being of the Enterprise. Maybe they just like traveling, and that's all they need. (It's a way for the Bird primary and the Snake secondary exist very happily together, so I wouldn't be surprised if that was pretty common.)

DOUBLE BADGER “THE PEACEMAKER”

Badgers are interesting, because while I think they’re generally regarded as “correct,” they’re also seen as kind of boring. That’s the case with both Badger primaries and Badger secondaries, which means it is doubly reflected in the Double Badger. They often get written as simplistic, the sweet Jane Bennet type who loves everybody and caretakes everybody and just wants everybody to get along.

They are often the targets of what TV Tropes used to call “Break the Cutie.” What could be more interesting than making this character, who wants to be happily part of a community, be forced to build protective models, be all tortured and angsty? I actually think we’re seeing a return of the Double Badger as an interesting character in their own right, with people like Aziaphale, and I'm here for it.

BADGER LION “THE PROTAGONIST”

What can I say? There are a lot of protagonists that are Badger Lions. They want to help the group - so we know they're the good guys - and then they charge and make stuff happen. Lion secondaries are very useful in fiction - you drop them into a situation and stuff just happens. I also think of this as the Starfleet officer sorting - because if you’re a Starfleet officer, either you are the sorting, or can model it really well.

I will say that this is kind of the stock Protagonist sorting, the way that the Snake Badger is the stock love interest and the Snake Bird is the stock villain. There’s just something sort of generic good guy about this one, which is why I want to see it used as a villain sorting more. Badger villains - mostly people who define ‘human’ very narrowly - are insanely terrifying.

BADGER SNAKE “THE ADVISOR”

Possibly “the Power Behind the Throne.” This is another one I had difficulty pinning down. I called it “the Politician” for a while, which unfortunately came off as a little bit more negative than I meant it to, since I think this sorting has a lot in common with Lion Badger, the linchpin of a heroic team. The difference is that Lion Badger takes on that role kind of unconsciously, while the Badger Snake does it very consciously.

Their loyalty is to the group, but their skill set is all about subversion and different ways of going around the group, which is why there’s an interesting contradiction at the heart of Badger Snake. A lot of real life Badger Snakes struggle with feeling like “bad people" and it's too bad. These guys are ridiculously powerful and competent when they are sure of themselves, and I love seeing them in action

BADGER BIRD “THE KING / THE MOB BOSS”

Another difficult one, despite (or because) I really like them. I was calling them “the Architect” because “The City Planner” sounded too boring… but that’s what they do. They’re all about the community but they problem-solve the way all Bird secondaries do, by prepping, and gathering knowledge. I talked more about this in the Lion Bird entry, but Bird secondary seems to have this villain split going on, and that’s what I see here too. This is a controversial love-them-or-hate-them sorting, and I think that’s why. There’s a lot of room in whether or not you see this sorting as villainous.

[derpcakes]

Who wants to hear about a book that gave me psychic damage?

In Remi K. England’s 2022 YA novel The One True Me and You, worlds collide when a teen beauty pageant and a fan convention book the same hotel. Our main characters are Kay, a fanfic writer tentatively trying out they/them pronouns in the supportive, generally queer space among their fandom friends; and Teagan, a pageant contestant gunning for a much-needed scholarship and keeping her geeky tendencies and her lesbian identity firmly under wraps. The two meet when Teagan sneaks into a con event, and sparks fly. etc etc. It’s a rom com.

The fan convention is for a fictional story-within-a-story called The Great Game, a modern adaptation of the Sherlock Holmes canon. Kay narrates that it’s one of many, but it’s the best one out there: better than Elementary, and certainly better than the BBC one. Except, of course, it becomes fairly obvious that The Great Game is a fictionalised stand-in for the BBC’s Sherlock, and Kay’s fandom experience a stand-in for a very particular strain of Tumblr culture surrounding the series. Let me tell you seeing “JohnLock” shipping terminology on the page of a published book in the year of our lord 2022 made me a little dizzy.

The whole thing is so... SURREAL. Much of the novel’s depiction of fan practice feels like it harkens back to a just-bygone era, making it feel oddly detached from the flow of time. The vision of Scroll—a fictional blogging platform clearly meant as a stand-in for Tumblr—as a creative, queer-friendly fangirl paradise where everyone gushes about their ships and learns about social justice issues, feels deeply anchored in the culture and perception of the site from circa 2012 – 2016. 

Even the vision of “geeks” as social outcasts rather than, well, pretty mainstream, feels older too. Catchphrases like “witness me” and “BAMF” and “for the win” are pulled from an Internet lexicon of at least six or seven years ago and placed in the mouths of fictional teenagers ostensibly living in the present.

Even little details, like the characters brewing ship-themed tea blends, wearing vintage-style dresses printed with fandom references, talking about a bad episode as The One That Shall Not Be Named, someone “squee”ing at one point, even the construction of usernames… as someone who’s been on Tumblr for many years, watching Big Fandoms like Sherlock from the sidelines, it feels familiar, churning up memories from a dashboard of days gone by. 

Teagan, at one point, references a pageant from 2019, meaning the plot takes place at least a year after that. And yet, how can it, if it presents such a pre-DashCon image of online fan antics?

I almost wonder if this uncanny sensation could have been offset by making the novel a period piece, explicitly setting it in 2013 or 2014 and turning its nostalgic undertones into overtones: committing to creating a fictive time capsule of Tumblr and SuperWhoLock’s halcyon days. I wonder, too, if this manuscript was written closer to that heyday, and is (as can happen with the weird loops and timelines of a publishing career) only hitting shelves now—arriving on the scene when what was once a contemporary story now feels rather dated.

I don’t know that, though I do know from the acknowledgements that England intended The One True Me and You to be a cathartic, fun, wish-fulfillment story representing the queer fan experience they feel they missed out on in the ‘90s and early ‘00s. And as an outlet for that, I think the novel is wonderful, even if it’s rocketed me, personally, deeply into the uncanny valley. 

I wonder how it feels to read this as someone who was much deeper ingrained in Sherlock Tumblr? I wonder what the hell it feels like to read this as a modern teenager—the book’s intended audience!!

Years out from Sherlock’s pop cultural relevance, when its fandom has faded from the dashboard-dominance it once had, and when public perception of the series has generally soured and many people’s favourite piece of Sherlock-related media is ‘Sherlock is Garbage and Here’s Why’… can the wholesome and squeeful depiction of Sherlock-ish fandom in this book possibly resonate with any young people? I know marketing demographics aren’t always the best insight into a story’s inner workings, but I have to ask: who IS this for?

It’s not a bad book, and I don’t want this to be taken as a bad review of it. Sure, I found it to be weaker than England’s sci-fi novels: the prose is sometimes plain and leans on telling rather than showing in places, and it wraps up maybe too swiftly given the emotional weight of what happens in the climax. There’s also something to be said for how it’s vision of fandom as a queer paradise of acceptance where everyone is friends is... maybe a little overly-rosy. But if you’re in the mood for a short, cute, fluffy little queer romance between a pair of horny but endearing-enough teens, it will do the job. It will also rocket you back to a hyper-specific moment in fandom history with force that may or may not leave you with a neck injury.

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

Did you hear about the Fraktz haunting in New South Wales (1995ish)?

It has gotten a little folklore-y and probably sensationalised over the years, but the basic premise is that Dina and Hans Fraktz were one of those overly helpful religious types, and were raising their three kids (Curtis - 11, Angie -8/9?, Louisa-May - 3) just about the same.

They lived in Albury, NSW which is in Australia in a dept of housing place, not much room but they made do and were always grateful to god about it. Enough that, as the story goes, it catches the attention of some demonic entities.

Belphorn bets that Lucifer can't corrupt the whole family in under a year, and of course the overachiever that he is, the head of hell says 'Hold my beer mate' and goes to work.

It starts as every horror movie starts, weird noises, bad dreams, smell of decay, something in the corner of their eye, etc. Louisa-May is the most sensitive, and of course, gets taken first after promising something to her 'imaginary friend'.

The paediatrician isn't sure what to do when her frantic parents present at the clinic with a toddler that keeps cackling maniacally and contorting in ways bodies shouldn't. They rationalise it's probably ehhlers-danlos sydrome or a varient, and this needs further observation. A referral for a specialist is provided, and that's that apparently.

Of course with a 'sick' child, the stress and tension in the house is high. Dina and Hanz are having whispered not-arguments so the kids won't hear, and Hanz pretends to ignore that Dina's gone back to smoking ten a day to keep herself calm. In the same way she turns a blind eye to his fermented grape juice dinners... and breakfasts.

Curtis shows the stress by acting out at school, getting detentions frequently and just skirting away from suspension by technicality alone. His friends distance themselves, he has no energy for footy anymore, and he can barely concentrate because something is always just behind him. He screams himself awake, begging it to just leave him alone, he'd do anything to just be left alone.

"Anything?" the shadow asks one night in late June, detaching from the wall. There's a few variations of the pact that the demon makes, but they all boil down to 'you can't be scared of us, if you're one of us' and Curtis is so tired he accepts.

The next morning Curtis is muttering in ancient sumerian under his breath, with bloodshot eyes and a strange echo to his voice.

Hanz speaks with their local minister about an exorcism, or some sort of spiritual guidance. A bake-sale to assist in medical care is organised, and a prayer night held for the two Fraktz children.

Nothing seems to change. Dina can only turn the crucifixes in the house rightside up so many time a day, and starts to just walk past them now. Who cares anymore?

Morning and Evening prayers go by the wayside, and even saying Grace falls out of fashion because its horrifying to hear it babbled back in dead languages, or one of your children shrieking at the holy words burning her ears...

By September, Dina's exhausted. Something's scurrying in the walls at night and she knows its not rats, it can't be. She checks on Curtis and Louisa-May to make sure it's not either of them climbing the walls again.

Hanz won't get up anymore, so she tends to wander the house with a flashlight trying to find the noise, and ignoring the lingering sensation of something breathing on her neck. She ignores it, because their minister said acknowledgement gives it power.

Something has written an ominous message across her kitchen wall in what is either blood or thick jelly, and that's the straw that breaks the camel's back. Dina bursts into tears and starts yelling for whatever was doing this to get the FUCK out of HER HOUsE because she JUST WASHED THAT WALL and WHO DID IT THINK IT WAS to go doing something like that?

Something knocks a few jars over, and four slash marks appear on the bench. Dina's scared but still angry, she screams at the air, turning in every direction. "What do you want? Tell me, and I'll do it, just leave us alone!"

By the time Hanz stumbled into the kitchen, swaying and dizzy from his skinfull, Dina wasn't there anymore. Well, at least, her body was.

Hanz would tell his neighbour, the minister and his church group about finding Dina walking on the ceiling and singing an old lullaby to the sleeping Louisa-May in her arms. She reportedly screams at him when he asks what in god's name is she doing?

Terrified, Angie asks her father if she can go stay with her aunty (Meryl) in Woodonga, just a town over. Hanz readily agrees, and drives her there himself, before again seeking assistance from the church.

The minister, clearly not ever having been prepared for such things when he'd accepted the small town position, was at a loss and offered platitudes. Using comparisons to Job to try and help Hanz feel that his faith was merely being tested, and not that God had abandoned him...

For the first time in his life, Hanz began to doubt in the power of the Lord. He left a few journal entries around October 1995, many of which contained the phrases "I feel like I'm going mad" and "I know I'm not crazy, but it feels like I am", as things spiralled out of control.

The main barrier to accessing help, is that Dina, Curtis and Louisa-May were perfectly capacble of acting like themselves when people came around. So Hanz came off as having some sort of mental health episode, and the minute they left, things deteriorated again.

At his wit's end, Hanz locked himself in his bedroom and begged the lord for help. Sobbing and pleading, clenching his hands so tightly in place that his nails pierced the soft flesh between his fingers and the crucifix imprinted on his palms.

It was not entirely clear what happened after this point, as the tales all like to make interesting claims but the key point is there were no actual witnesses, except Hanz and the already 'taken'. But by the next morning Hanz had been subsumbed by the entity as well.

Despite being with her aunty, Angie continued to have nightmares that she would shriek herself awake from, well into late November. Her aunt and two adult cousins would take turns reading to her, distracting her, and reminding Angie about Christmas coming up soon so she had something to look forwards to.

They also took turns sleeping on the floor by her little bed in the guest room, so that there was always someone to point out there was 'nothing there and nothing can hurt you' when Angie woke up distressed. [Her older cousin Deliah has a book about the ordeal, and I think it might be in e-reader, but you can google it if you want.]

So Christmas rolls around, and excitement for Santa overlays even the deepest fear of shadows, which seems to breathe some life back into little Angie. Her aunt is relieved, but is still fighting to get some in-home supports for her brother, his wife and their other two children; she knows something's wrong, but suspects it might be something in the old council pipes...

Angie struggles to keep her eyes open as the countdown begins, and just managed a solitary enthused 'tooooooooot' from her party blower before falling asleep on the couch against her other cousin, Javin. The adults laugh uproariously and take photos, for when she's old enough to be embarrassed by such things.

Oddly enough, the new year seems to have snapped the rest of the family out of their funk, as if 1996 has a power all of its own. Things seem to slip back into place as if people had not been puppeted by a demonic entity for nearly 12 months...

Down in hell Lucifer was fuming and Belphorn was far too smug.

But what could be said about the bet? Lucifer was bound to lose, because he didn't possess all the Fraktz.

[innaminitus]

To meet you again

Pairing: Geralt x reader

Request:  Hey! May I request Geralt x reader? Maybe where the reader is a commoner in the kingdom, and while Geralt is there to kill a monster, him and the reader keep crossing paths? But get this: the reader is extremely clumsy and every time they cross paths it’s because of the reader tripping, or running into him, etc ya know? It gets to the point where Geralt starts making small offhand comments about her clumsiness and she shows that she’s actually pretty damn feisty. I’m so excited! Thank you hun! (from @badass-dora-milaje​)

and

Hello there. I read your beautiful lake story and just fell in love with your writing style. So I'd like to request a story if I may: Geralt & reader meet up time and time again. She somehow always helps him out (calms a mob, heals his wounds, gives the missing coin he needs) and she's always kind to him. There may be underlying tension between the two, but she doesn't act on it. There is a change in their dynamics though when she endangers her life while trying to help him again and anger and worry finally make him react, pushing her against a wall and showing her how much he truly cares. Now I'd like to leave it up to you if the smut is passionate and either sweet or more angry. I hope this is okay as a request? Thanks so much for sharing your work and doing this! Regards V (from @superconfusedandreadytorumble​)

Warnings: smut, language, angst

Word count: 3034

A/N: I didn’t proffread it because i’m a lazy ass 

You were… just a nobody, really. Just a clumsy girl, who happened to have just enough healing abilities to help with cuts and burns in the town.

Somehow he always crossed paths with you.

You were picking up the herbs in the forest, finally unbothered. It was the beginning of spring, and the door to your house almost never closed. People were storming you with colds and allergies, sometimes knocking on your door at night. Mothers were… overprotective, bothering you when their sons barely sneezed. In the forest you could finally rest, breathe fresh air and be alone for a change. No one walked that deep into the forest, afraid they might meet leshy and his monsters; you’ve never met him, though and doubted he actually lived in the forest.

That is, until you heard sounds of a fight. Frozen in place, you were too afraid to move. A cry of a beast mixed with hoarse screams and clings of steel, followed by sudden silence. Someone, or something moved for the last time and hit the ground. You waited for any sign that, whoever it was, was still alive.

“Ahh… Fuck.”

Well, that almost definitely was a sound of being alive.

You rushed in the direction of the voice, whose owner, thankfully wasn’t far. A man was on the ground, leaning on the tree, pressing his hand on his thigh. In front of him lied a beast, its horny head detached from its body, slimy blood spilled all over the clearing. Your stomach flew to your throat, but you managed not to vomit at the sight. One deep breath and you looked back at the man. He was bleeding as well, but the difference between him and leshy was that he was still alive.

You walked to him slowly, he turned to you when you stepped on a twig.

“Who are you?” He asked in between sharp breaths. His hair was white and his eyes were oddly yellow.

“A healer. I can help you.” You kneeled next to him and looked at the wound on his thigh. It was deep, and he was losing a lot of blood. You pulled at the hem of your dress and ripped a long stripe, then tied it firmly above the wound. “Come, you need to get up. My home is not far away.”

You held him while he clumsily got up, and supported him while you walked out of the forest.

“So what’s your name, healer?”

“Y/N. And yours?”

“Geralt.”

That was the first time you’ve met Geralt. You healed his wound and said goodbye, believing it was the last time you’d see the white-haired man.

How foolish of you.

He passed your village multiple times, since beasts seemed to adore the forests and swamps surrounding it, and soon the Witcher was a frequent guest in town.

You were reading a book. It wasn’t your fault that you didn’t see him, it was the fault of the heroine in the story, who was making the worst decision of her life.

It wasn’t a pretty picture, really. Geralt was talking to someone, and you just didn’t bother to look above your book. You smashed onto him, hitting him with the book, and hurting your nose badly on his broad back.

“Ouch…”

“What the hell are you doing?” He turned angrily, but his presence softened once he saw you. Not for long, as it seemed, since he started laughing at your miserable form, holding your nose with your palms and tears building in your eyes. He picked up the book you dropped. “I think that’s yours.”

That was the second time. You’ve had pleasant conversation with him, and discovered he also liked books, but haven’t had the time to read them anymore. Turned out he’s not just a pile of muscles and a nice voice.

Finally a day without a single patient. You could spend all calm day on the market, and unbothered buy food. Maybe you’d buy yourself a little treat, maybe a piece or two of peach pie…

You were buying apples when you heard a horse nearby. You smiled softly at Roach tied to a feeder near the inn and walked to her.

“Hello, Roach.” You caressed her head gently. She bumped your basket, full of fresh food. You fed her an apple. “And where’s your owner, huh?”

Suddenly you heard a loud noise in the inn and the door swung open.

“Witch– Witcher!” Geralt stormed out of the inn, the publican right behind him. You didn’t fail to notice how good the Witcher looked, his hair a mess and unbuttoned shirt. “Pay or I’ll swear my boys will kill you in your sleep.”

“You dare to threaten me?” Geralt turned back and faced the publican, who somehow got smaller under his burning sight.

“Geralt,” you called him, stepping closer and placing a hand on his shoulder. “What’s the problem?”

“He haven’t paid for his stay!” The publican shouted.

“I said I’ll pay later!”

“I don’t believe ya Witchers! One day you fuck a whore in my inn, the next day ya dead! And I am left with no money!”

“I’ll pay for him.” You gave the men a few coins.

“That’s not enough!”

“Well, remember about it the next time you drag your pregnant daughter to my house demanding an abortion. And I’ll maybe remember to not tell anyone about it.”

He reddened and, murmuring something under his nose, went back to the inn.

“Abortion?” Geralt raised an eyebrow.

“He has five daughters, and each one is rather frivolous.”

He untied Roach and turned to you.

“Thank you. I’ll repay you, I promise.”

“I know.” You shrugged. “But maybe next time you’re here, stay at my place.”

You tried not to show how many sinful thoughts flew through your head.

He stayed a few times, arriving at the evenings and leaving early in the morning. Unspoken tension between you was enough to keep him away. It wasn’t that you were disappointed, only you were… a little disappointed.

Snow was falling into your eyes as you were trying to make your way back home. You treated a boy with fever, not sure if he would survive the night. The cold was merciless, piercing you through, and you forgot your cloak when you run out to save the boy. Only a thick sweater was protecting you from wind and snow. You cursed your stupidity, dreaming of warm fireplace waiting for you. There was one more thing keeping you warm, but you didn’t really want to admit it to yourself. You just couldn’t help it that his eyes reminded you of the sun.

You stepped onto frozen mud, your poor excuse for shoes not protecting you from sliding all across the puddle. With a squirm you tripped on ice, and waved your hands, trying to catch stability, inefficaciously, only making your situation worse. You were sure to hit the ground, but someone’s warm arm wrapped around you, protecting you from it.

“Geralt,” you gasped, still hanging above the ground.

“Hello, Y/N,” he laughed and pulled you up.

Only this time it was different.

You just… had a feeling. A feeling that you should be out, even though it was night. You wandered around the town, this weird feeling in your guts not allowing you to rest. Your intuition was strong, due to your grandmother being a minor witch, and almost never let you down. It was an unsettling thought, piercing you through, that something bad was going to happen.

You didn’t notice that you left the town and mindlessly walked to the forest. Cold air soothed your burning cheeks and scent of wet grass hit your nostrils. You knew you wouldn’t get lost in this forest, you knew it better than you knew yourself, so you walked deeper, letting your intuition guide you.

Everything was oddly silent. No birds singing, not even the bugs working their way through the bushes. You could barely see in the darkness, but you didn’t need a good sight to feel the blood hanging in the air.

One, two, three vampires, and between them the whitehaired Witcher. You watched the scene with parted lips, as they hypnotized him, one already sucking blood out of Geralt.

You had to help him. A silver knife shone in the moonlight when you took it out of your pocket, glad you took it with yourself. You pressed the blade on your arm and with a deep breath cut the skin deeply, not allowing yourself to whine in pain.

“Blood.” One of the vampires shot his head up.

“Blood.”

“Blood.”

“Human.”

You kept squeezing your fist to pump more blood out of the wound.

“Hey, assholes,” you shouted. “How about a dessert?”

Two of them left Geralt and run to you with awful screams, and it was enough for the Witcher to free himself from their power. You didn’t see him killing the vampire still sucking his blood, the two beasts already knocked you down, their cold, dead lips locked on your neck.

A groan was the last thing you heard before you passed out.

The ground was shaking when you woke up. You were flying, you were sure of it. Was this how death felt?

Your eyelids felt awfully heavy when you opened your eyes, the stars were shining on the dark sky. You moved your head. You weren’t dead. You were still in the forest, in someone’s arms.

“Geralt…” Your throat was sore, you were barely able to make a sound.

His jaw was clenched when you looked at him.

“You are… Stupid. Irresponsible. Do you even understand how big of a danger that was?” His voice was shaking from anger, but he tried not to shout.

You moved in his arms.

“Did you kill them?” He nodded. “Geralt, we have to go back.” You tried to fall on the ground, but he was holding you too tight. “Geralt, we need to bury them, their heads apart from their bodies, with iron nails in their skulls… And sprinkle poppy seeds–“

“I did it.”

“What’s with the poppy seeds, though?” You were taking without any sense. “Like… I know they’re supposed to obsessively count them, but do they really do it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you mad at me? Don’t be mad at me, please.” You lifted your hand to touch, but it felt weightless. You had no feeling in your limbs, but you could move them. It must’ve been because of the loss of blood.

“Yes, I am mad at you. You should never put your life in danger, not for me, not for anyone else.”

“I wanted to help you.”

“You shouldn’t have. I was dealing with them perfectly fine without you.”

“No, you weren’t,” you snorted. “They were killing you, you needed my help.”

He stopped. You didn’t notice that you already left the forest and were standing in front of your house. He gently placed you on the ground, making sure you wouldn’t trip. Your head was dizzy, but you were able to open the door and walk inside. Familiar scent of candles and herbs soothed you.

“It would be much better if they killed me instead of hurting you,” you said, your back turned to him, as you lit the candles.

He held your arm, and pushed you against the nearby wall.

“No,” he said in a hoarse voice, anger glistening in his amber eyes. “Stop saying such stupid things.”

“Stop telling me I’m stupid!” You were over it. You helped him, and that’s how he thanks?

“How can I, if you obviously are?!”

“You shouldn’t save me then, leaving me as a meal would eliminate me from your life just fine!”

“You must have no idea what you’re saying.” His hands were clenched on your shoulders just like his jaw was clenched when he was talking to you with such anger.

“Enlighten me, then!”

It took him a split second to press his lips onto yours, and to melt you completely.

“Is that clear enough?” He asked in a husky voice, his face millimeters from yours.

“Not– Not really. You’d have to repeat that.”

Only you didn’t give him any time to repeat it, because you threw your arms over his neck and kissed him hurriedly, leaning on him, almost knocking him down. He smiled during the kiss, deepening it, his tongue slid into your mouth, inviting yours to play.

Within a second you forgot about everything, about the vampires, about how bad you felt after the attack. He was more than enough to make you forget.

He lifted you up, and bumped on a closet on the way to your bedroom, making you laugh, quickly silencing you with his tongue. Soon you felt cold sheets under your back, and Geralt’s fingers untying the ribbons of your dress. He slid the material down your shoulders, kissing every inch of the skin that was exposed to him.

He kissed your collarbone, lick the hollow underneath it, his tongue swiped down, to the delicate skin of your breasts and suddenly you weren’t in the mood for laughing. You sighed when he softly tugged the side of your breast, pulling the dress down, exposing your hardened nipples. With a silent groan he closed his warm mouth around one nipple, caressing it with the tip of his tongue. The other one he rolled in his fingers, releasing a moan from you, and you felt him smile at that sound. His big hands kneaded your breasts as he kissed the valley of them before sliding your dress even lower.

His lips never left your body as he made his way down, gently biting your waist, leaving a mark. By the time he got to your hips the heat between your legs was noticeable, just as how wet you were for him. He kissed one hipbone, then another, and ignoring your womanhood kept kissing until he reached your knee, and then, and only then he made his way up. In most torturous of ways he licked the skin of your inner thigh, left hot kisses above the wet trail and finally, after almost driving you crazy, reached your heat.

He didn’t plan to work his way fast. Oh no, he planned to feast on you.

He kissed your folds, yet that was enough to make you squirm. He stuck out his tongue and with just the tip licked a stripe through them, parting them for his warm lips.

“Mm,” he groaned against you “so wet already, and I haven’t even started properly.”

His deep voice was giving you goosebumps, but it was his tongue that made you grab his hair. He flattened it on your pussy, rubbing your clit and forcing a moan out of you. His hands massaged your thighs, but one of it slid to your folds, to the aching clit while he pushed his tongue into you. You arched your back as he worked you this way, his tongue in and out of you, his skilled fingers rubbing vicious circles on your clit.

“Fuck… Geralt, please, don’t stop,” you moaned time after time as he mercilessly drove you to the edge of sanity, forcing an orgasm out of you.

You were shaking as you came on his face, whispering pleads and his name, pleasure holding your throat tight enough for you to not scream. You mindlessly held his head pressed onto you, spasms of ecstasy making you come yet again around his tongue.

He pulled away, his wet mouth and chin glistened in the light of candles as he ripped his clothes and hovered over you. You kissed him, your taste spilled in your mouth as his tongue was dancing with yours.

You felt his hot shaft on your stomach, how it dripped on your skin, making you hungry for more, more of his body, more of his lips. He bucked his hips, caressing your overstimulated clit with his tip, collecting your slick. He slid into you easily, you caught his gasp in your mouth.

“So fucking tight,”  he whispered on your neck. “So marvelously tight…”

He pulled out only to push back in, and you were lost yet again, only now it was Geralt as well who lost control. As you expected, he wasn’t the one to be gentle.

He rammed into you like a wild animal, sounds of moans and wet bodies smacking filled the room and your ears. You reached above your head to hold the frame of the bed, but he had other plans. With sadistic smile he grabbed your wrists with one hand and held them still as his other hand held firmly your hip, sure to leave bruises. All you could do was to wrap your legs around him to make him reach deeper, and moan when he buried himself balls deep into you.

His thrusts were fast and violent, his eyes travelled from your waving breasts to your parted lips, as you begged for more, for him to never stop.

“Gods– You fill me so fucking good–“ You squirmed as your whole body moved to his pace.

“That’s right,” he groaned, leaning over you as your muscles clenched hard on his length. “I want you to come all over my cock.”

You would never deny that order. A heat wave hit you hard, overtaking your body in its silky arms, as pleasure spilled all over your mind just as Geralt’s cum spilled deep inside your pussy. Your legs were shaking when you rode down your orgasm with his gasps near your ear.

He fell on the bed next to you, panting.

“So… So you care for me. If I got the message right,” you said in between heavy breaths and looked at him.

“Pretty much, yes.”

He also looked at you before you both laughed. He pulled you to a soft kiss before closing you in his warm arms. There was nothing that could disturb that night. Not when you felt so warm, so safe next to him.

You placed your head on his chest and soon the sleep surrounded you like a fog. And you dreamed, dreamed about amber eyes and clear blue skies.

 ___

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