#it’s inconsequential but something i wonder about occasionally

[padfootastic]

Hey I wanted some insight on how to write James with more depth. I saw on a one of your post you mentioned not liking that he matured for a girl, and I can agree. And I saw you mentioning his elderly parents and how they died around the war. How do you think being raised by older parents affected his character overall?

oh hey anon 💜💜 i’m not sure i’m the best person for advice on how to write a character w depth (since it’s something i routine eschew in favor of self indulgence) but i can certainly try!

so, i’m not sure if effie and flea dying from illness (dragonpox?) is canon or not but i certainly treat it so. i think they passed away around his 7th year, maybe midway through, and that just strengthened his resolve to join the order. plus, it gives me a more plausible reason for why him and lily married so young.

regarding how growing up with elderly parents might’ve affected him, here’s a few possible options:

- kind, kind, kind. he’s sincere and polite and has impeccable manners (does he sometimes give up on them if the situation calls for? sure) because it’s been instilled in him from birth. i think family portraits going back generations also played a huge role here.

- he’s great with small talk and endearing himself to old people. he’s used to his parents’ friends and often, he prefers being with them over his peers because he can understand them and their motivations better. i think while he was an extrovert and definitely loved hanging out with people, his social skills were a bit rusty bc he’s not grown up around a lot of kids so he doesn’t rly know how to relate to them. (enter: my hc that james uses old people swears like good heavens and goodness gracious) he had to stumble around to get better with his batchmates in hogwarts and even then, he sometimes slips up and goes into geriatric mode and gets teased a lot for it.

- i also think he’d be big on like, tradition and superstition? even when he stops actually believing in them, he still does it bc of habit or ‘what’s the harm?’ or he wants to keep some part of his parents alive. he’s probably thought up all kinds of things he wants to do with harry and teach him and habits to instil in him which just makes it that much more tragic that he didn’t get to

- his nurturing nature came from an acute awareness of his parents’ mortality and taking care of them from a young age. i see flea and effie as realists, treating james as an equal for all that they coddle him. so they’ve never hid this part from him and he’s always had a low grade fear? anxiety? about when time will run out so he tries to over compensate for it by doing the most. (sometimes i hc a james with control issues but that’s a tangent)

- on the flip side, his arrogance definitely came from being a miracle baby. he had all the silver/gold/platinum spoons in his mouth and so much privilege he doesn’t know what to do with it. while his heart is in the right place, effie & flea were cut from the same cloth so his understanding of these nuances came much, much later as he started interacting with people in hogwarts who had very different lives. i think this made him a bit insensitive at times, but definitely the aforementioned heart makes sure he makes amends, even if they’re fumbling and based on trial-and-error.

- he was a lonely kid!! as much as he loved his parents and their friends and his life, he still grew up mainly alone in a large manor with nothing but portraits to talk to and that had to have had an effect on him. combine that w his never ending energy and always being switched on and is it any wonder he keeps doing The Absolute Most when he finally gets to hogwarts? how hard he latches on to sirius?

- oh also, i think he definitely has some form of rejection sensitivity. i’ve mentioned this before but i think, despite his confidence, it can be easy to make him self conscious by bringing up say, how loudly he talks or how he ‘never shuts up’ or ‘oh my god ur so annoying potter do u ever just, chill out’ (one reason why a lot of jily fics don’t agree w me tbh), partly because he’s never really been criticised before so he doesn’t know how to constructively deal with it and partly bc he’s always thinking in extremes and doesn’t want to be a bother so he decides completely shutting himself off is the only acceptable solution. (another hc: sirius knows this, understands it as an actual problem, and is therefore the only one who can bring up his faults/tell him to cut it out without sending him into a guilt/hurt spiral)

i’m...gonna stop here. i don’t know if all of these make sense but it’s how i see james (i think) so i rly hope it helps u! if u end up writing a fic/post (even if it doesn’t have any of this lol), tag me so i can read it <333 happy writing, anon!

[imahinatjon]

Can you write something about a reader who only focuses on what they did wrong. Like for example, they had a mission that they succeeded flawlessly in, and they know that. But they only focus on the small mistakes and how to perfect them. And after some time, Fyodor, who has started to fall in love with them, grows irritated at their unhealthy habit and decides to teach them a lesson, by overstimulating them. No worries if you don't want to write something like this

It has been WAYYY too long. I am so sorry for not getting to this sooner. But hey! Its done now. Been a busy month and my hands are killing me lol.

Anyway, here it is. Overstimulation with fyodor. Maybe out of character.

How much more?

Fyodor x Reader 18+ 💋

This was... oh THIS was irritating. Fyodor didn't send you out often, in his opinion you were too good for the lowly, mediocre jobs, so he'd wait for a better and more Important mission to send you on- he trusted you'd get the job done.

Not that he'd ever told you that.

So of course, you assume your kept behind so often because your not good enough to go on missions - without even realising that the ones you DO get assigned are the more important ones.

But how were you to know that they were important to him? You'd never seen a 'normal' job.

No normal person would ever be caught complaining to Fyodor in such a way. The only person who spoke to him so familiarly was you.

And it was ovbious he had some sort of feeling towards you, to everyone but yourself. Your colleagues weren't sure if they should worry for you or be glad you'd be somewhat protected.

Aha! But, none of that is the point, not really. The focus of this is what your doing right now - complaining again to Fyodor. Telling him all about your last mission. An astounding success it was! But... well, that one guard? He managed to spot you and alert a few other guys of your infiltration, all because you were a little too loud. I mean, you did take them down, but you have a rather nasty scratch on your arm. Only a scratch, but it hurt, and hindered the rest of your mission. Maybe if not for that first mistake. It would have gone a little more smoothly.

Fyodor really didn't care. You did the job, and you made sure it was a success, all the little details were inconsequential.

But he listened to you. Patting your head as your frowned deeply when you sat beside him.

He wanted to fix the problem. Somehow. Your constant complaining DID get annoying at times. Besides, you were seriously underselling yourself on a regular basis.

Then he had an idea.

In hindsight, a stupid idea which didn't make much sense, and wouldn't do anything to fix things in the long run, but it'd be a temporary fix.

...

That and he just really wanted to eat you out.

This little thought of his, an impulse he'd never have acted on if he wasn't already a little ticked is what landed you on your back, sprawled over a sofa, fyodor gently massaging your genitalia, ghosting gently over all your most sensitive parts with his cold hands.

Occasionally he'd hit that one spot, making you flinch with a cold shiver up your spine and your hips twitch.

You sighed quietly, he was slow, and it was relaxing, blissful, and then you felt something warm fan over you.

Opening your eyes you spied his mouth closing in on you, ready to take in your essence.

"W-wait!" You yelped

Fyodor stopped and looked up, expectantly, he wanted an explanation

"Its not... I'm... what if it doesn't... it won't taste... Good?" You weren't sure hoe exactly it should he said. You were sure whatever he wanted to do would feel heavenly, and you desperately wanted him to continue, but doubts persisted.

He sighed.

"Any more complaining and I'm not letting you come"

'What?' You thought to yourself. He was harsh, and you were sure he would stick to his word should you complain again, but, his hand squeezed yor thight gently. A subtle message 'its okay'

And he was soon back between your legs, tongue working wonders, one hand over your stomach, arm keeping you still, the other toying where his mouth was absent.

He moved around a lot, switching his attention to various parts of your body, bringing you closer and closer to an edge you would soon reach.

You felt your muscles tighten, his hair run between your fingers, and you were sure you must have called his name at some point as your mouth was open and throat a little dry.

You needed some water.

But something was stopping you after your climax. A sensation that slightly ached, made you wince and look down. Fyodor was still going. He has to know you've already come right? Surely...?

Of course he knew.

But you hadn't much time to entertain his intentions as your next orgasm was ready to crash down upon you like a tidle wave, more intense than the previous.

He shifted, leaning up over you.

"Think you can come again..."

You wanted to shake your head no...

But... the I

Thoughts of what he could do to you... this was a change you didn't get everyday.

All you could do was weakly nod. Even if all your insides all felt tight, even if it ached slightly, even if you grew tired... you wanted to take everything he would give to you.

Just like another mission. How much could you take?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Good?

[polonium-snap]

Bkdk Plot bunnies pt 1

Izuku is 12 and still quirkless

Katsuki is his #1 Bully being as every other day he corners Deku outside school to mock him and intimidate him

Until one day he just stops

Izuku doesn’t notice at first maybe is just one of those days Katsuki “can’t be bothered with a useless Deku”

However as time passes even Katsuki’s lackeys wonder what is wrong with him

He’s stopped complaining about Deku, and doesn’t ever mention the other boy’s quirklessness

Izuku doesn’t know how to feel about it; on one hand he is glad the harassment stopped, but somehow being completely ignored by Kacchan feels somehow worse

“I just realized; why be bothered with a quirkless extra.” Katsuki explained a week later when one of his friends asked

That’s what did it, for all the insults Katsuki had called Deku for the past six years he had never referred to Izuku as an extra

Izuku was the gum stuck in his shoe but never as inconsequential as an extra

That burned Izuku more than being called Deku ever had. But Izuku couldn’t say anything about it

One day some older kids saw the opportunity to corner Izuku on some alley and started push him around

It seemed Bakugou power was such everyone had steered clear of his “mark” but now that he was not interested in him anymore someone wanted the #1 bully position

However unlike Katsuki who used his quirk to intimidate and occasionally burn Deku’s belongings these bullies got physical. They hit Izuku a couple of times before big explosions interrupt them

Out of nowhere Katsuki appears “get away from him!” He screams in rage

He chases the older boys away then looks at Deku

Why his green eyes ask

Katsuki wears a look Deku has never seen before, guilt

Bakugou Katsuki was never guilty because Bakugou Katsuki never felt sorry and Bakugou Katsuki never made mistakes

So how come he’s looking at Deku with guilt?

Something is wrong, Katsuki is different and Izuku has to find out why

Katsuki is quieter and almost nice?

Not really he still brash and can’t be bothered with peoples names but he has less outbursts, the blond is oddly different with Deku, which is even more baffling

One day Izuku sees Katsuki at the convenience store when the boy suddenly drops everything and is practically running outside

Izuku follows

Bakugou stops a tall skinny blond old man, who looks just as surprised as Izuku

From the distance Deku can’t hear their conversation

The man tenses as he hears Katsuki talk, wary toward the younger blond, but his expressions keep changing

Katsuki said something more and the man sighs almost relieved

They seem to exchange numbers and Katsuki turns around, only just missing Izuku who had to hastily hide

His heart is racing, what was that? Why had Bakugou stopped a random man like that?

Just as suddenly Katsuki changes his routine only noticeable to Izuku who knows it like the back of his hand

Izuku sees Kachan outside a building where a small girl with white hair and red eyes of about 4 years old comes running out and into Katsuki’s arms

Strangely Bakugou welcomes the hug with a smile of his own as the underground hero Eraserhead comes out behind the child

Deku can’t believe his eyes

Soon enough Bakugou seems to express his goodbyes and Izuku takes that as his cue to hide scurrying through an alley

“So, what is your nerd brain thinking?” Bakugou’s voice sounds from the end of the alleyway izuku had hastily hidden

“I-I K-k-Kachan! Wh-what a co-coincidence to see you here! Haha” Deku fumbled. “Wh-“

“Shut up, I know you’ve been following me.” The blond acuses

Izuku closes his mouth

“I’m sure you’ve noticed something’s different, so hit me with your theories.”

“I-I do-don’t know. Nothing makes sense all the things that should be connected don’t link correctly to one another.” Izuku flounders. “One day you just changed, w-why?

Bakugou smiled bitterly. “Deku, shit’s complicated and at first I thought maybe it was for the better if you weren’t involved at all.” He looks hesitant before blustering. “But that’s obviously wistful thinking since you are a nosy little shit that won’t stay away,”

“Kacchan what is going on?

“4 years from now I died and came back in time.”

“…What?”

“I’m from the fucking future dumbass.”

“W-wait Kacchan you died?! What do you mean from the future?!”

“It’s better if All Might and I explain.”

“A-A-All Might?!?!”

“Tch, come with me” Katsuki starts to drag Deku.

“Wait Kacchan where are we going?”

“To get you a quirk.” Katsuki smiles back with a brightness Izuku hasn’t seen since they were little.

I decided to start this series because I have so many bkdk ideas I have planned out but I don’t either have the time or will to write out into an actual fanfic

Let me know what you think and if you guys like it I might write it

pt 2 |pt 2.5 |pt 3|pt 4|pt 5|pt 6

[farfromsugafanfic]

husband!stray kids reaction to you two arguing and in a spur of the moment you say you want a divorce? like would they be hurt or just brush it off?? thank you!!❤️💖

Husband SKZ Reaction To You Saying You Want A Divorce During An Argument

Genre: husband!skz, angst

Warnings: arguments, yelling, mentions of divorce

A/N: Thanks for the request! Hope you like it. :) Sorry my requests are taking so long, but I try to do them between regular uploads and as I feel inspired. As always, I’m accepting SKZ reaction/MTL requests. Send me an ask.

Chan:

You and Chan rarely fought, but when you did it was almost always about him spending too much working and/or him not taking care of himself. He argued that 1). You knew what you were getting into when you married him 2). His work was important and he loved it almost as much as you. You, of course, understood, but found it difficult when he was constantly staying at the studio all night and canceling date nights.

When you finally said you wanted a divorce, he would freeze. His thoughts would be blocking his words like a flash flood. While it had been a fairly civil argument, he would bring the tone down even more.

“Baby, let’s talk about this, okay?” He was fairly certain you didn’t really want a divorce and if you did, he wanted to try and prove that he could be the husband you wanted and needed.

Minho:

You and Minho enjoyed bickering, but almost never had true arguments. However, after weeks of exhaustion and overwork for both of you, multiple small things built up and led to a fight. In the heat of the moment, you'd mention wanting a divorce under your breath.

Minho would quiet and just stare at you. He was trying to discern whether or not you actually meant it, especially since the fight was ultimately over unwashed dishes. He'd hug you once it is obvious you didn't truly mean it.

"You can't get rid of me that easily, babe."

Changbin:

You and Changbin did occasionally fight. It wasn't normally serious and ended quickly, but it happened often enough that when you said you wanted a divorce during one of them, he wondered if it was true. In his mind, you probably would be better off without him.

The two of you decided to take some time away from each other and eventually talk it over. You hadn't really meant it and had just said it due to emotions and wanting to hurt him. Still, Changbin was determined for you to never have to feel that way again.

"Let's forget about it," he said. "But, I'll make sure you never feel that way again."

Hyunjin:

Hyunjin has one of two reactions:

1). Sarcastic and dismissive

If Hyunjin is feeling particularly dramatic slighted, he will certainly not take your words seriously. If you say you want a divorce, he'll simply narrow your eyes and may even make a few mocking remarks. While the two of you do not fight like this often, when you do, both of you tend to be particularly cruel.

2). Apologetic

This is in the case where he knows he is in the wrong, or if the fight is over something objectively inconsequential. Hyunjin will nearly immediately apologize and cuddle you.

Jisung:

As soon as the words come out of your mouth cue the puppy eyes and chipmunk cheeks. Jisung--while he can be argumentative, especially when an argument breaks out naturally--ultimately wants to please and be enough for you.

It would immediately change his mood. However, even if he wants to pull you into his arms and tell you he's sorry, he needs time. Jisung needs to decompress and calm down before he can properly come back and talk. He'll worry endlessly that you meant it until you assure him that you'd just spit it out because you were frustrated.

Felix:

Out of all the members, it is least likely that an argument will even get to the point that you say you want a divorce. Depending on the context, I think Felix will either burst into tears right then and there, or remain stoic until he can be alone.

If the relationship isn't working, Felix will seriously consider your words and talk to you about it after clearing his head. If not, he'll know you didn't mean it without you even needing to say it.

Seungmin:

At first, he's quiet. It may come off as dismissive or cold, but after a few hours, he approaches you again and asks if you were serious. Seungmin knows you better than anyone and rarely ever doubted your intentions. So, when you tell him you didn't mean it, he's relieved.

Over the next few weeks, you may notice him paying more attention to you. Small touches on the small of your back, bringing home your favorite takeout from practice, and sending you cute filter selfies when the two of you are away from each other. It's both his way of apologizing and doing better.

Jeongin:

His first reaction is to laugh. Partially because he doesn't believe you and partially because he's scared that you are serious. When you stay silent after, his face will fall and he will ask if you're serious before approaching you gently and carefully. He'll hold you until the two of you feel more apt to talk about it.

The experience will scare him though. Luckily, you're well aware of his sometimes awkward reactions to things, or his subtle tsundere tendencies. You're able to talk it out and clear the air completely.

[nagito-kissmaeda]

Premonitions of Love - Komaeda x Reader

ミ☆ HAPPY VALENTINES DAY Summary: You bite your lower lip, peering up at him, “I’m tired of waiting, Komaeda.” You give him a shaky little smile, “What if I don’t find anyone, what if I die in here before I get the chance.” He swallows, and you can hear that his voice is shaking when he says, “then maybe I could-” Contains: AFAB Reader, No pronouns used, Explicit Sexual Content, Ultimate Matchmaker!Reader Word Count: 3809

Read on Ao3

The tiles in the kitchen are cold, but the air is warm. It took a few weeks for you to get used to the endless summer heat of the island, but it at least made your frequent nightly trips more comfortable. Some evenings you go sit out by the ocean long after Monokuma’s nighttime announcement. On nights like tonight, you instead head to the dining hall and make yourself a drink. Your bare feet pad quietly as you cross the room and bend down to pull the teapot out from the lower cupboard, it is old, the sort that needs heating up on the stove and whistles when it’s done. Sitting in the lonely kitchen is better than stewing in your cabin anyway, so you don’t mind that it takes longer to boil the water. 

The small window above the sink is half open, letting an occasional cool breeze into the kitchen. Despite everything, you really like breathing in the ocean air. It dances through the short strands of hair that you haven’t been able to pull up into a bun as you hold down the gas knob on the stove and click the igniter. The burner lights up with a satisfying whoosh, and you set the teapot down on top of it. Getting to sleep has always been hard for you, overthinking and planning often keep you up until the AM and given the stresses of your current situation, you are awake at night more than ever. There is something nice about being able to go out and not need to worry about seeing anyone, you don’t dislike any of your cohort but you are introspective and often need time to yourself. Ironic considering your talent. 

The water in the teapot is only just starting to simmer, so you take some time to pull a mug and a box of tea leaves down from the cupboard. You drop one sugar cube into the mug, and then quickly add two more when you remember no one was watching. There had been a strainer in the cupboard last time you made a late-night tea, but someone has moved it. You don’t feel like filtering tea leaves through your teeth, so you kneel down to rifle through some of the lower cupboards hoping to find it. 

Times like these are always when the uselessness of your talent bothers you. Sure, Souda wouldn’t have any more luck digging through a cupboard than you, but it always makes you wonder. Wouldn’t a simple talent suit you better? Something helpful but altogether inconsequential? Like a talent that helps you find lost objects or something that makes you smarter. Anything but matchmaking. Sure, back in middle school other kids would pay you to tell them which locker to leave a love letter in, or which desk to place chocolates on. You’d even managed to convince teachers to give you higher grades with your infallible romantic advice. But now? In a killing game? You are useless, worse than garbage.

You are elbow deep in one of the cupboards when you hear the sound of a foot hitting the wooden floor of the dining hall. You freeze. Not sure if the best course of action is to climb out of the window or just stay put and hope they don’t notice you. The rapid beat of your heart is making it hard to think, no one would actually kill you, right? There hasn’t been a new motive, and you are quiet, you mostly keep to yourself. Your lungs burn as you hold your breath, and your knees start to ache from the awkward crouch you are stuck in.

“Hello? Is someone in there?” you hear a voice say, and then breathe a sigh of relief when Komaeda rounds the doorframe. He is more likely to ask you to kill him than he is to try anything himself.

“Oh!” He starts, “My apologies. Have I interrupted something?” 

You scramble to your feet and tug your shorts back down. They had ridden up something terrible while you were crouched on the floor. Komaeda is still standing on the other side of the room with one hand on the doorframe, he has also been trying to sleep if his messy hair and sweatpants are any indication. 

“No no! I was just...uh-” you cross your arms over your chest, suddenly aware of how revealing your pyjamas are, “-I couldn't sleep.”

“Ahh.” The tension in his shoulders melts and he takes a few steps towards you. He isn’t wearing shoes either. “I was also having trouble getting to sleep. I came by for a snack.”

You nod loosely, trying to swallow your shyness, “Do you...want a drink?” You ask, gesturing to the teapot on the stove.

Komaeda chuckles, “No, I already have what I need, thank you.” He tosses an apple up in the air and catches it, he must have grabbed it from the fruit bowl in the dining hall, “I was planning to go straight back to my cabin, but I heard sounds in here and thought someone might have been planning a murder! I was going to offer my assistance!”

“Oh uh…” you clear your throat, “sorry to disappoint.”

Admittedly, you have been working out appropriate matches for all of the classmates you are left on the island with, mostly to keep yourself busy. Komaeda is a hard one. For a while, you thought Sonia, her oblivious nature and penchant for the occult would have worked decently before you realised she was perfect for Tanaka. Nanami’s quiet disposition and the way she always put her friends first would have suited just fine. Togami’s leadership skills and desire to protect everyone would have been perfect if he was still alive. And Hinata, well. He was the one who was putting in the effort.

It is true that he wasn’t difficult to place due to a lack of options. The real reason was a lot less diplomatic, It is because you want him for yourself. You know it’s selfish, barbaric even. Yet still, you leave him alone and don’t meddle. Because part of you hopes that...well...

“Oh no! Please don't misunderstand, I am still very happy to be in the presence of an ultimate!” 

You lean backwards with your elbows up on the bench, “Even one as useless as me?” You say, laughing to yourself.

Komaeda blinks at you, curious, “Why would you say something like that about yourself?” You give him a coy smile, “Why would you?” “Ah.” He chuckles behind a hand, “My luck is paltry compared to a talent like yours, that’s why.” “The usefulness of a talent is circumstantial.” You say with a shrug, “Luck is going to be far more helpful in a situation like this than matchmaking is.”

The teapot starts whistling, and you can't help but wonder if Komaeda’s luck is the cause. You are sure that he wanted out of that awkward conversation as much as you did. Stepping past him, you head over to the stove and turn off the burner, Komaeda is lingering behind you. A little too close. As you pour the tea into your cup, you can feel your hands shaking, all you can think about is him looming over you. He is a good head and a half taller than you were, all he would need to do is spin you around and he’d have you pinned right on the-

“Three sugar cubes?” He asks, and you feel yourself turning pink. 

“Uh, yeah.” You say, taking the teapot over to the bin and shaking out the leftover leaves, “I like my tea sweet.” 

He laughs politely, and your breath catches in your throat. He has his hip resting against the bench, a sliver of pale skin visible where his shirt is riding up. You can tell he is tired, his eyes are sleepy and half-lidded when they meet your gaze. You want to bury your hands in his hair, you grip your mug tight to stop yourself from trying.

Komaeda tilts his head to the side, “Are you okay? You’re looking at me strangely.” 

“Huh!?” You squeak, “No! I wasn’t looking at you!”

“How shameful of me…” he mutters, crossing his arms and casting his eyes down to the floor, “implying that you would even look at trash like me.”

You bristle a little at that, heading over to the bench across from where he is standing. You place your tea down and hoist yourself up to sit on the bench, making yourself tall enough to meet his eyes without craning your head upwards, “You aren’t trash, Komaeda-san and I’m grateful for your company.”

It is weird being up high enough to see his face properly. His eyes are outlined with dark circles and spidery lashes brush his cheeks every time he blinks, his lips are a lot pinker than they looked from lower down. The gentle breeze in from the open window is dancing through his hair and the light of the moon makes it look almost shimmery. You take a sip of your tea to calm yourself.

“Thank you for trying to make me feel better, but it genuinely doesn't matter.” He says with a tired smile.

You swing your legs back and forth as you watch him. Komaeda smiles a lot, but it rarely reaches his eyes, a tight pull of his cheeks that is rendered entirely ungenuine with even the most minor of examinations. You want to see him smile properly, for his eyes to pinch in the corners and his nose to wrinkle. His cheeks would be pretty if they were flushed pink. You wish you could do that to him. “It matters to me.” You say, taking another sip of your tea, “I like seeing people happy.”

He smiles another fake smile, “Ah, that shouldn’t come as a surprise given your talent.” One of his hands stretches out toward you in a grasping claw until he thinks better of it, letting his hand drop back to his side, “What is matchmaking but helping others find ultimate happiness?” You scoff, “Love is hardly the ultimate happiness. Many people find that without a significant other.” you lower your mug to rest on your bare thighs, it’s warm, “My talent doesn’t guarantee a perfect relationship either, those take work, I’m only a little better than a quiz in a magazine.” Komaeda frowns then, his brow furrows and it’s incredibly cute, “I find that difficult to believe, someone as amazing as you debasing yourself in front of a pathetic worm like me…I don’t understand it.”

You give him a shaky half smile and set your tea down beside you on the bench, “You’re not pathetic, and I’m not amazing. Can’t we just be equals, for a little while?” 

“Why?” He asks, and you can hear the airy breathlessness in his voice.

“I want to know you better.” You reply nervously, quickly clearing your throat and recovering with, “You know, because I can’t make matches if I don’t know people very well.” Komaeda bursts into a bought of laughter that have you taken aback. He is far less intimidating in his pyjamas, but any reminder of that deadly first trial has your hair on end. 

Even if you still blush when he looks in your direction. 

“You would waste your talent on someone like me?” Another one of those smiles slashes his cheeks in half, “Who would ever accept me as their partner?” You would.

“I’m just being thorough.” You reply, “There aren’t many people on the island so I need to cover all my bases.”

“By all means, then.” He says, his smile turning syrupy, “Use me however you desire” You swallow, averting your eyes and pressing your thighs together. He must know the effect he has on you. Komaeda is many things, but he surely isn't unobservant. 

“What about yourself?” He asks, tilting his head to the side. You blink, “Sorry?” “Do you include yourself in the viable options?” He clarifies, “I can’t imagine you would include me but not yourself, and yet I haven’t noticed you involving yourself with the others all that much.”

“Ah.” You say, withering a little as you set your mug down on the bench next to you, “I don’t have a perfect match, or at least my talent doesn’t help me to find one.” His brow furrows, “Does that bother you?” You can feel tears beading in your eyes, but force a smile anyway, “I thought it didn’t, but it’s harder to stomach the older I get.” You shrug one shoulder, “I’ve consulted constellations, the positions of the sun and the moon. Hell, I even tried tarot at one point and nothing. No red string of fate, just loneliness for the rest of my life.” 

You cast your eyes down at Komaeda’s feet, too ashamed to meet his gaze, “I know it’s stupid, that plenty of people live happy and full lives without falling in love but it just feels...it feels so cruel that I’ve been put on this planet to find love for other people but I can never find it myself.”

Komaeda scoffs aloud, and you look up at him in surprise. He’s never made such a dismissive sound around you before, “Someone as amazing as you…is going to be alone forever?” He laughs, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, “I find that incredibly difficult to believe. With a talent as wonderful, as hopeful as yours. It’s nearly, no it is impossible to imagine that there is no potential for love in your life.” “But I-” He laughs again, louder this time, eyes growing wider, “Your talent makes others happy, everyone is happy just by being around you. The way you so perfectly knot lives together may be reserved for other people, but surely you can see that you are amazing enough not to need the help.” He makes a sound, half a sigh, half a moan, “You should have people falling at your feet.”

At some point during his tirade, he had come closer to you. He is almost standing between your open legs. Your hands are gripping the edge of the bench tight so he won’t notice the shaking. 

You bite your lower lip, peering up at him, “I’m tired of waiting, Komaeda.” You give him a shaky little smile, “What if I don’t find anyone, what if I die in here before I get the chance.” He stares at you appraisingly for a moment, the moonlight catching in his hair as his pale eyes dart around your face. He wets his lips, and begins speaking in a low, serious voice, “I know that I'm just a piece of trash, not even worthy to kiss the ground you walk on. But if you want someone so desperately…” He swallows, and you can hear that his voice is shaking when he says, “then maybe I could-”

“Yes.” You breathe. Your heart is racing like it is trying to burst forth from your chest. Yes, a million times yes.

Komaeda blinks a few times, like he is stunned, “what- you...you actually?”

“Komaeda.” You lick your lips, and he definitely notices, “please”

His throat bobs as he steps towards you, nestling in between your open thighs. You can feel his breath on your face, he slowly brings up a hand to cup your cheek and you can see that he is shaking. He takes one step towards you and crashes his lips into yours. One hand gripping tightly at your waist and the other tugging at your hair. His lips are soft, and he smells like cheap camomile soap, you want more.

Komaeda grunts when you instinctively wrap one of your legs around his narrow waist, desperate to tug him ever closer. His boney fingers slide up and over the length of your ribcage, between frantic messy kisses, you can hear him whimpering and moaning against your lips. You gasp aloud when he pulls your hair tight, he laughs breathlessly and whispers, “Do you like when I do that?” close enough that his lips touch yours as he speaks.

“Y-Yes…” you reply, one of your own hands sliding up the ridges of his spine and into his hair, you grab a handful at the nap of his neck and yank, “Do you like it?” He pulls far enough away from you that you can meet his eyes, wide and desperate, darting around every inch of your face like he is trying to commit you to memory, “I like it very much.” he says lowly, and you can feel the sound of it vibrating through your chest, “But what I like is of little significance.”

He sinks down to his knees and tugs you forward by your thighs, “I want to know what you like.”

You can feel your heart racing through your whole body, heaving a shaky breath and leaning back on your elbows. Komaeda’s hands are cold when they reach up and grab the waistband of your shorts, tugging them and your panties down. Your shorts fall straight to the floor, but your panties get caught dangling around your ankle, and Komaeda seems content to leave them there. 

“Relax.” He breathes, cold hands holding your legs apart as he leans in and presses an open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh, “Let me worship you.”

Fuck. You couldn’t say no to that even if you wanted to.

Komaeda takes his time. You aren’t sure whether you appreciate that or just want him to get on with it. He plants small kisses the whole way up the inside of your thigh, from knee all the way to pelvis, and for one excruciating moment, you feel his breath ghost over your sex before he moves to the other leg and repeats the process. 

“Damn it.” You hiss under your breath, quivering for any sort of stimulation.

Komaeda pauses his ministrations for a moment, giggling under his breath, “There’s no need to rush, we have all night.” You choke, the thought of him worshipping you all night sends a bolt of arousal down between your thighs and you hide your face with a forearm so he doesn't realise you are turning red. 

He sucks a large bruise onto your inner thigh, kissing it gently to soothe the ache, and then pulling back to admire his handiwork. He moans, just from the sight of it, and immediately dives back in to do it again. You can’t help but imagine yourself lounging at the beach in a swimsuit, and somebody noticing the constellation of bruises covering your inner thighs. Knowing who it was that did it to you. 

Then you yelp, snapping back to attention at the sight of Komaeda’s eyes peering up at you from between your thighs. He gives your clit another lick, and you instinctively grab his unruly hair for leverage. He smirks at you and goes back to kissing your thigh. “Komaeda please!” You cry out, unable to stop your hips bucking towards him, desperate for attention. 

He leans his head against your thigh, his smile saccharine and syrupy. For someone who acts so subservient and weak, he sure is exuding confidence right now, “Hm? Did you need something?”

You bark a laugh, “Yes! Obviously!” He closes his eyes, and another moan rolls through him. When his eyes open again, they are half-lidded and nearly sinister, “Does this help?” He whispers, one of his long fingers gently running up the full length of your sex and completing one tight circle over your clit. 

“God, fuck, yes! More!” You cry out, head lolling backwards. 

You feel his lips press against your thigh, and Komaedas finger continues gently stroking you, just enough that you are able to feel it, but still not enough. Enough to leave you shivery and desperate for more. Every gentle touch up over your clit has your hips bucking towards him, your whole body shaking. 

Your breath hitches when you feel his finger finally slip in between your folds, finally finally touching you directly. 

Komaeda whimpers, “You’re so wet…”

You let out a keening moan when his digit presses against your entrance, teasing you with the addictive taste of true penetration, “P-Please…” 

His finger slips inside, only to the second knuckle, but it’s enough to have your toes curling. Komaeda stares down at where his finger is now pressed inside you, blinking slowly in utter awe. Then his finger curls upward, and you howl. Both hands were now buried in his hair, hips grinding up into his hand. 

“Beautiful…” he whispers, “You’re beautiful.”

You barely even hear him over the sounds of your own moans when he strokes your insides again. 

“I can’t believe you are letting me do this to you.” He breathes, and you can feel his warm breath against your wetness when he whispers, “How very lucky.”

Then his mouth is on you. 

You lose yourself completely, in the warmth, the wetness. He’s still teasing of course, only offering tantalising little licks when you really want him to suck, but you are already so desperate, so wanton, that even the little he is willing to give you has pathetic mewls jumping out from your throat. Then you feel the stretch of a second finger entering beside the first, and he slowly begins pumping them in and out of your sex, being sure to curl them upwards with every thrust. 

The tightness in your core is growing unbearable. A fluctuating, unending warmth that just feels good, but it isn't enough, it feels like it will never be enough. That Komaeda will have you drooling, grinding and whimpering over his touches until the end of time. 

“P…Please…Komaeda…Please…” you stammer, barely even able to speak as the pleasure roils under your fragile skin. 

He moans against you, and you can feel it vibrate up through your body. 

“I want…I want to cum…please” He laughs again, breathless and completely wild, “I can do that for you.” The feeling of his lips finally wrapping around your clit has you completely lost to the earth. Glass shatters behind your eyes, your heart rebounds wildly inside your ribcage, and you moan so hard that it hurts. Your talent goes crazy, you can see the stars colliding, personality matrixes with a perfect score, birth charts, star signs and a red string tied so tightly to your finger that it cuts off circulation. 

His fingers curl inside you again, and he whines and whimpers and moans as he eats you out like a man starved, your fingers bury tightly in his hair, pulling so hard that his fragile locks break off in chunks. 

And it’s Komaeda. Komaeda. Komaeda. Komaeda. Somehow it has always been Komaeda. 

He sucks hard, heaving a wheezing breath-

And you shatter.

[skeptiquewrites]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you for the tag @tackytigerfic (here) and @maesterchill (here). Emerging from my post illness hidey hole.

How many works do you have on ao3?

32, a number that both seems too large and smaller than I thought

2. what's your total ao3 word count?

254,835. Wild.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Mostly HP, although once in a while I peek over at other fandoms. And I have a joint Check Please fic in the works.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

All Drarry. None really surprised me but the final one, I hadn't realized it climbed that far up the kudos. Huh. 1. Yours Truly - my romcom fic about Harry feeling left out when everyone's coupled up, telling a lie that gets out of control, and also how hot magical ecology is 2. Home Truths - my Quidditch fic about the complications of fame, love of the game, Harry finding out who his family was and letting himself fall in love 3. Special Affinity - how quickly one can justify fucking one's coworker given a bonding spell while having no idea if the feelings part is reciprocal 4. Winner Takes It All - Draco feeling caught in impossible circumstances, working too much, caregiving for a parent, and how small kindnesses can mean the world 5. A Little Time - mistaken for a couple, forced proximity, Healer school, and everyone in a small town hating you and all your friends on sight

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I love responding to comments, but it takes me a while. I read every single one, and I try to wait until I have the time and energy to respond with something thoughtful. I'm months behind at this point.

6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I'm a fairly happy ending sort of person. I tend to go more for straight angst for drabbles and micros. Maybe Beside Manner? They're formerly bonded and dealing very badly with the dissolution.

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

Oh, gosh, most of them. I'm most enamoured by the Big Damn Kiss at the end of Home Truths. I love No Distance because Harry and Draco are very much in love and not able to hide it. I am particularly fond of the end of Winner because I was able to leave Draco in a very good place that felt right for the fic.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not really I think. I get the occasional rude bookmark rating. Once, a very unpleasant person who sent lots of hate for months over a fairly inconsequential aspect of a fic. And then there have been a few comments where it's clear the reader wanted me to write a different fic, which I don't really take that personally. Nice comments far outweight the negative.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Not much. Tender, expressive, evocative. Light on details mostly.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I am not a crossover person.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't think anyone has ever tried.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes. Two by the wonderful Bluebubbling which I was thrilled by.

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

I've always wanted to. I'm trying my hand with another fandom, but one day.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Drarry. It just hits different.

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

I'm one of those people who has a dozens of ideas. I think I'm unlikely to finish my Veela!Harry fic, I just don't think I have the range. I have yet to successfully write and finish a PWP. Would be thrilled to finish some of my rare pairs.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Hmmm. I think dialogue, efficiency, and atmosphere.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

More complicated or mystery-oriented plots, the mid-level between an ensemble cast and an intimate chamber piece, anything with significant length, spending lots of words on one scene.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

One of my ideas about writing is that not everything has to be maximally accessible to all to be an authentic expression in a fic. If that's what fits or feels right, go for it.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

You know, I found out the answer for sure recently, and I will be keeping that information to myself. Highly embarrassing and yet formative. Let your imagination do the rest.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

Winner Takes It All. Exactly what I intended, turned out beautifully. Some of my favourite writing.

tagging @magpiefngrl @lettersbyelise @lqtraintracks @quicksilvermaid @goblinmatriarch @teledild0nix @boxboxlewis and anyone else who is interested

[dballzposting]

I don’t know how to fucking draw. 

Yamucha mall santa

BELABORED Textpost about Yamucha Dad Swagg under the cut

It’s a very simple equation .. it takes a village to raise a kid and Yamucha is a part of that village.

Picture this. Trunks is just a little guy walking around Capsule Corp. Sometimes he goes days without seeing his father, and when he does see him there is no warm greeting. That’s fine and cool because that’s just Vegeta’s way and Trunks is used to it / raised to it. He sees his mother more frequently than his father, but she is just as busy, and she is always trying to teach Trunks about computers and whatnot - this is fun and fine because Trunks doesn’t yet know that he lacks the natural spark for invention and that his potential pales in comparison to his mother. So it’s good bonding time.

Ultimately, his parents are concerned with his growth, and they do much to encourage it, and that’s awesome. But warm family time just isn’t the love language of the house. Trunks’s grandparents are pretty warm, but they also aren’t that interested in playing video games, just the technicalities of it, so Trunks’s conversation material is stunted.

Trunks will see the other Z Fighters occasionally, but he mostly knows Of them than Knows them. Sometimes, though, his mother will have a friend over.

And something interesting happens when Yamucha visits. Trunks can actually hear his mother laughing from the other room. 

And if he sneaks around the corner, he can see his mother actually having a real damn conversation with someone for once. Trunks never sees his parents converse like this, so it’s odd and enamoring to see Yamucha and Bulma talking like normal people. 

It’s weird, because it’s not typical to Trunks’s house, but he’s seen it in others, like how Gohan and Videl talk for instance, and it’s sort of .. nice to see.

Not that he’s thinking in those terms - he’s like, IDK, 9, and though he’s a precocious kid, he’s not yet adhering to adult standards of what’s “nice to see.” He doesn’t think that it’s “nice to see” his mother be able to have a non-argumentative conversation with a man. He’s not concerned about what’s good for his mother or not, not in that way. He’s still a kid.

But. He does grow comfortable to the sight.

Bulma and Yamucha’s conversations are still pretty much what you’d expect - Yamucha is only visiting to get this car fixed, she makes some harshly-toned but inconsequential joke about his being unwilling to pay someone to fix it so he’s hoping to get it fixed for free by a friend, and he rubs his neck and says “everyone’s a critic,” and she fixes his car and makes him have tea with her as payment. She complains that he never fucking visits unless he needs some help and he says the same to her. She asks him how life is going and he tells her that Puar is starting a new semester at Shapeshifting University, that he’s working on his Master’s. She says that she’s working on a new type of engine that will revolutionize the industry and he says that his wood stove keeps breaking in odd ways that he can’t make sense of.

She asks him if he still trains and fights and he says Sometimes. He asks her if she finds herself yearning for adventure and she says Sometimes.

IDK where I’m going with this. I don’t know what I haven’t already said in previous posts. It’s just that Yamucha is a nice man ...

Trunks is used to being either A.) treated like a little adult or B.) brushed off, so when Yamucha literally treats him like one would a child, it completely throws Trunks off of his rhythm and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

He ventures into the room where Bulma & Yamucha are conversing and Yamucha is quick to be like HEEEY KIDDO! THERE YOU ARE. WAS WONDERING WHEN YOU’D SHOW UP. HOW’RE YOU DOING?

and Trunks is like HWAH becasue now this man is talking to him and now he’s gotta snap to attention and be polite and civil like his parents taught him. But also it’s Yamucha he doesnt hold him in a very high regard at this time. And he’s just gotta get throuhg this exchange of pleasantries so that they can all move on with their day.  

Unfortunately however Yamucha is not Vegeta and he is not bored with pleasantries, he’s honestly interested to see Trunks join the conversation. Trunks is a funny little DUDE yknow? He’s always running around and defeating bad guys and stuff. Yamucha held him when he was a baby a few times and he always sends him a birthday card in the mail. He’s honestly interested, at the high point of the day before the daily fatigue has set in, to invite him into the conversation.

Trunks has no tact for this however becasue he’s not used to this senseless genuineness from an adult. Usually adults will get whatever info they need out of him and then exit the conversation. Usually there’s a point where the adult gets bored and tired and Trunks is used to this pattern and he knows how to recognize it and stop talking about things that only he cares about.

But before Trunks can understand what’s happening he’s being launched into this conversation about Minecraft because one thing led to another and now Bulma has momentarily adjourned the room and Trunks is sitting at this table explaining Minecraft to Yamucha. And he’s sort of fretful and stressed about it because he doesn’t know why Yamucha is doing this to himself? This isn’t typically how things go. 

So Trunks at every sentence is trying to pull the brakes on this whole operation, growing more anxious about it the longer it persists, and it does inexplicably persists - Trunks just keeps trying to wrap up his thought but then Yamucha seems to keep encouraging him. “So it’s a computer game? You can play it with an XBOX too? What about a PS2, I used to have one of those.” “You craft what you mine? What do you mine, rocks and stuff? Oh, that’s just the term for the mechanism of acquiring world blocks? And you can craft? Oh, Minecraft, that’s clever.” “You can build anything you want? What do you build?” “What’s a mob? What’s an NPC? Oh, they’re bad guys? Sometimes? Do you fight on Minecraft? WITH A SWORD? I see why you like it.” “Is there a plot? What’s ‘sandbox’? It’s an ‘open world’?” “Can you play it with other people at the same time, like those arcade games where- oh, different screens, same world? REALLY? Over the internet you say? Now how does that work?” “THEY HAVE WOLVES IN MINECRAFT?”

And Trunks keeps trying to Not go overboard but if you ask an obsessed 9 year old about minecraft What TF Do You Think is gonna happen.

Trunks is WAITING, WAITING, WAITING for the inevitable “say, kid, yknow, it’s getting late, I gotta run...” or whatever polite manner Yamucha will use to end the conversation. Trunks is keeping vigilante for it. He’s studying Yamucha’s face and words for any hint of it. 

Eventually- “say, I don’t suppose you got any snacks around here in this house of fortune, do you?”

There it is, the Topic Change. Yamucha moves to stand and Trunks silences the urge to finish the tangent he was on. He’s actually relieved - that was getting scary, he didn’t know when the interruption would come. He doesn’t want to embarrass himself any further, so he’s glad for the long-awaited topic change.

They set out to amass a plate of snacks. Yamucha encourages Trunks to pick his poison, and Trunks doesn’t know why he’s still being involved in this operation but he likes snacks so he sticks around. Yamucha remarks that Bulma hasn’t yet returned and Trunks can’t stop himself from responding immediately with what was on the tip of his tongue: 

“Yeah, she doesn’t like to hear about Minecraft.”

Yamucha laughs it off, genuinely entertained, saying something about how Bulma didn’t have the patience for most things. He suggests that they go find her and bother her, and Trunks says that she doesn’t like to be bothered when she’s working, and Yamucha says “yeah I know.”

Somehow though they end up talking about Minecraft again. And this vexes Trunks so strongly. Especially when Yamucha finally says “yknow I don’t really understand the appeal of video games myself .. I dabbled in it but it didn’t really take me far” THEN WHY ARE YOU ASKING ABOUT MINECRAFT ???

My point is that the “topic change” was not a topic change, Yamucha was totally gonna return to the Minecraft thing. Which, again, makes no goddamn sense to Trunks. 

Yamucha’s just a nice dude. And he’s not annoyed with Trunks becasue he A.) isn’t as seriously-minded as Bulma and Vegeta are and B.) is not Trunks’s actual father so he doesn’t need to fucking see him all of the time and deal with his shit on a regular basis.

IDK. That’s just a story. I feel like it’s a good place to start the development of Trunks getting attached to Yamucha though. Like there are many ways you could spin this but it all sort of starts the same .. Trunks getting judgeless attention from Yamucha, who is warm and friendly and chill and visibly mature and middle-aged.

I mean this could happen at any time but hear me out:

Trunks ages 0-5 would respond well to any friendly adult because’s that’s what babies are like. As long as the adult didn’t have a scary face.

Trunks ages 6-9 will take a bit more convincing to warm up to you, because he’s got opinions and a snotty attitude. But ultimately he’s polite when it matters and he likes to have fun, so if you’re fun then he’s fun, and he’ll be excited to see you, because that’s what kids are like.

Trunks ages 10-15 is an even tougher sell, because his precocious self-awareness now actually MEANS something, and progressively more so throughout the years. And though he’s living life pretty naturally and in-tuned with himself by necessity of his craft, he would still shudder at the sensation of affection / want of attention from an adult other than the expressly accepted Bulma & Vegeta & his grandsparents & Gohan & Videl & to an extent Goten’s parents. Being a little baby kid and wanting to spend time with a beloved adult is one thing, but Trunks is much too self-aware at this age to allow the easy flow of vulnerability. Like, HOW STRANGE. How strange to think he would need something from someone. How strange to think that there could be a shift in the familial dynamic that’s always been. So he would experience some confliction and some shame at a perceived immaturity of the self. Even though he is getting older, humans develop in a gradual way, and by his Saiyan blood he is still a baby, so he is still responsive to warmth and attention, even when it is bewilderingly unconditional and pleasant.

Moreover: Trunks has himself a self-image of self-sufficiency and independence by this time, and he would struggle with how small and clingy he feels when Yamucha is nice to him, and he may just avoid him entirely for it.

Trunks ages 16-18 is no longer susceptible to a new juvenile attachment but he is a kid who likes to party. He is friendly enough and could make a mentor out of Yamucha yet. He could love him like one too.

However in the event that he already had the experience of wanting Yamucha to be his dad when he was younger: by 18 he thinks he’s totally over “it” though he never gave “it” credit for what it was: how much he appreciated the sense of safety that being raised by a village gave him. And that’s literally a normal thing and Trunks is literally capable of seeing that but he’s not Goten so he still is a little slow on the uptake. So he thinks he’s “over it” but as soon as he gets eyes on Yamucha he .. Oh my god I’ll just repost the last image file of a previously-shared comic

This is just so goddamn funny like .. That first panel I wish was way bigger becasue I think it’s everything. The crazed and vigilante yet amiable and PLACID look. It’s like he’s a shark and he’s caught blood in the water. It’s like he was a normal dude before but then he got eyes on Yamucha and his middle-aged man used-car-salesman swag and a biochemical reaction began to occur in Trunks’s brain and he’s become one-track and pursuit-predatorial and now he’s looking at him like this

With so much warmth and love and contentedness .. like he thinks he’s amazing. Like he’s out for blood.

And then he warmly says “you could marry my mom and I wouldn’t be mad.” LIKE ... that’s so funny .. he’s 18 so he thinks he’s an adult but he’s still Someone’s Boy. He’s still a kid. It takes time to mature fully. He’s tall and taught like a greenbean plant and he hasn’t actually yet matured into the heat of the season ... He’s tall and energetic and he wants Yamucha to marry his mom so that he can see his mom get along with someone and for that someone to be Yamucha. It’s not that Trunks dislikes his father - he really really doesn’t - but it’s that he also wants Yamucha to be his dad.

By the time we get to Trunks age 23 - GT times - he really is beyond this. He really is a chill young adult by then. He doesn’t feel the juvenile attachment. He’s a mature organism. He probably forgot he ever felt that way to begin with.

It’s just funny idk.

ANYWAY.

In the event where Bulma and Vegeta formally split (which wouldn’t happen because Vegeta has nowhere else to go really...), Bulma would be cool with it but like any woman with self-respect she would undergo a certain grief to start. It doesn’t last long and she knows she’s happier being single but she allows herself the tenderness. And in this time she may reconnect with friends to feel better, including Yamucha.

And Trunks is around age umm idk let’s say 9 again, and he doesn’t think that his parents formally splitting is a big deal. From his POV, the only thing that will change is that he won’t see his father at the dinnertable anymore and he won’t train with him in the gravity chamber for a while (I say “a while” because Vegeta will come crawling back to use that fucking thing). But Trunks still knows where to find him, and he will still be training and learning under him. So it’s not a big deal.

His mom seems a little sad, which he wasn’t expecting. But she’s said and will keep saying that it was for the best and the mature thing to do, so Trunks doesn’t think much of it.

But much like how this post started, there’s a day where Trunks can hear his mother laughing in conversation in the other room. And it strikes him, rings in his head like a knell, secretive in its pull but inexorable all the same-... it’s been a while since his mother seemed so happy to be talking to someone. 

Under the guise of helping Bulma through this difficult time, but really for old time’s sake, but really actually because Yamuch’s cabin has a cockroach problem right now, it’s been arranged where Yamucha is gonna hang out and live at Capsule Corp for a while. 

OK don’t let me make this damn post so damn long. You know where it’s going. Trunks despite himself warms up to Yamucha and at the end asks him upfront if he’s gonna marry Bulma. And Yamucha is like NOOO No No No NO! Lol. And Trunks is like WHY NOT?? YOU GET ALONG SO WELL .. 

and Yamucha explains that he’s just trying to be a friend right now because he and Bulma did NOT work out in the past. And Trunks is like “Ok so are you going to live here forever then..” and Yamucha is like..........nooooo.........I’m gonna go home to my cabin ..........

and Trunks is like WHAT ???

And Yamucha, who is not trying to become a father, and who has been unsure how to treat Trunks as he sees him getting more and more clingy over the weeks, has to finally concede at this moment that: Trunks evidently needs this right now. He needs a friendly father figure. Yamucha wasn’t trying to get involved in all of this because he at this point in his life does not feel confident enough that he has what it takes to be a good parent .. that he could really give a kid what he needs .. he doesn’t think he’s good enough ... but at this moment he realizes that Well Soemone Has to Watch Stupoid Movies with This Kid and It’s NOT gonna be Vegeta So.....!!

so he tells Trunks “you know where to find me..!” and that he can visit at any time. But Trunks still seems a little sad about it and I can tell you why: it’s because he wants to feel loved enough that people will seek HIM out, not that the onus is always on him to maintain connections.

Yamucha sees that he’s still kind of sad so he makes an impulsive promise to “visit sometimes” and Trunks seems happy to hear that.

In any story you want to spin about Yamucha Dad Swagg I think it pays to consider Trunks’s hesitance to attach, because of his attitude problem and because he does already have two parents, and also how as a kid he responds to the budding connection with insecurity and confusion because even as a kid he takes it upon himself to be totally self-aware and to know everything, because that’s how his parents are raising him.

And it pays to consider what type of attention and affection that Trunks is actually receiving at home.

And it pays to consider that Yamucha is sort of washed-up and is in some ways content with that and in other ways insecure, and that he doesn't feel quite good enough to be a father but he doesn’t want to be without a family for forever, but he is a nice person who is good with kids, and Bulma is a dear friend of his, and he will do what he can to do well by her son. And he’s just naturally friendly and goofy and that gets him into hot water when he accidentally causes Bulma’s evidently-underappreciated son to latch onto him, like a baby bird imprinting upon you because you just happened to be there.

It’s all very simple really. At a Z-team get-together Trunks really wants to pull up a chair between Yamcuha and Bulma but he doesn’t know how to do that without it being weird (he thinks it’s weird becasue he’s self-aware to his own detriment). And he really wants the simple comfort of physical affection that he stopped receiving when his mother set him down as a baby for the last time, but he doesn’t know how to hug Yamucha without it being weird. And he really wants to just like stand next to Yamucha or something but he feels like if his own real father sees him standing next to Yamucha it’s gonna be weird.

In reality Vegeta doesnt give a shit, and if he knew about all of this then he would encourage Trunks to seek out the humanistic family structure he evidently needs to thrive, becasue Vegeta knows that he’s not capable of paying out in that way. But this all goes unspoken so Trunks just feels weird about the way that everything seems like it’s going to be okay whenever Yamucha is around, and he’s trying to find a situation in which it would be acceptable for him to cuddle up with Yamucha like a cat. 

It’s sort of stupid because that’s literally all it is. And there IS a day where Trunks drags Goten over to Yamucha’s cabin and they roast chestnuts and watch Caddyshack (1980) (one of the only movies that Yamucha owns and he always watches it when he’s sad and drunk and he doesn't even recognize it when he’s sober? He doesn’t know why he has it.).

And it’s fun obviously becasue Goten is there and they eat popcorn but when they’re watching the movie on Yamucha’s new couch (it’s new at this time) (it’s red and swanky) (he thinks it really classes up the place) (now there’s popcorn oil stains all over it of course but he’s trying to be gracious about it), Yamucha realizes that it’s a movie unfit for kids, and Goten gets bored when the popcorn is gone, and Trunks is not watching the movie at all because he is taking this opportunity to hug yamucha as hard as he can as he settles next to him on the couch.

And Yamucha is thinking “ummm this isn’t a very good movie for kids” but he literally can’t get up and do anything about it because Bulma’s damn bastard whelp is clinging to his side with the ardent ferocity of a drowning monkey to a floating log. And also the kid is pretending to be asleep so that no one will try to disturb him but his grip strength gives him away. And so basically Yamucha has to just sit through this weird movie. And Goten gets bored and really does fall asleep next to Trunks. So now Yamucha is committed to this damn movie. And there’s popcorn butter everywhere

Anyway. If Trunks started to bond with Yamucha then he really would want to learn stuff from him / model after him. And that’s where we may run into problems, becasue in practice, their continued involvement may be more of Trunks fixing Yamucha’s car then it is Yamucha teaching Trunks how to do stuff.

But there is still quite a bit that could be done here. Trunks would learn the Spirit Ball from Yamucha. He would learn how to go to diners and tip 30%, 40% if the server was cute. He would learn how to relax and enjoy life. He would learn how to hang out. He would start getting into Yamucha’s music, and then music composition once Yamucha pulls out his old guitar. He would pretend to care about baseball. He would have a new appreciation for monocolored suits. He would try whiskey for the first time. He would develop on his emotional intelligence so that he would eventually be on-par with Goten. He would listen to stories of the past because lord knows that Trunks’s parents don’t fucking tell him anything. ETC.

One more thing. You know that one .. science experiment where they put a baby monkey in a cage of sorts and gave it two “mothers,” one made of warm cloth that served no function and another that was made of wire and that contained a source of food? And they discovered that when the monkey was scared, he always huddled up to the cloth mother for comfort, even though she was not the one to feed him? And the result was something about the realization of the importance of comfort for babies? Yeah well it’s kind of like that .. Bulma & Vegeta are the wire mothers who offer substance of body mind and character, and Yamucha is the cloth mother who can’t do much for him but he’s always down to watch a movie and hang out or something. 

END POST. Good grief

[lesbianalanwake]

Re: dark presence rehabilitation, I was wondering... like, what's the goal? (this is based on my personal understanding which might be wrong.)

overall its goal seems to be to escape the dark place? but at the same time it seems like it wants to turn the outside world into something similar to the dark place, a neverending nightmare fueled by people's subconscious. specifically Scratch seems like a bit of a megalomaniac (I will make the entire world worship Alan's (my) writing forever!) (so much fun, geez...) - but... what's the point of escaping then? Scratch himself says in AN smth along the lines of a drop of darkness being absolutely inconsequential in the dark place, but so noticeable and fun in our mostly light world.

so, my suggestion is that the dark presence can stay outside but it ?should limit itself to smaller horrors. spice of life. a nightmare here, a nightmare there. Cats 2 (2025).

FHGHSKGHS drip-feeding the Dark Presence with minor horror allowances to keep it happy. it can ruin Hollywood. for Barry's sake.

it depends on what the Dark Presence and the Dark Place actually are. that could go a couple of ways. I could not even begin to guess which direction. scattered thoughts:

I prefer an explanation like "x entity became corrupted" over anything "inherent." it is man who is evil.

I'm continually wondering if the Dark Presence is, or is part of, a greater entity that got lost/corrupted.

AW2 describes the Dark Place as a mirror. I think the place that we see and experience might only be a sliver - a cracked and corrupted shard, if you will, because it doesn't always produce only suffering and misery and madness. just most of the time. so maybe Presence and Place are both parts of some greater ocean that got metaphysically landlocked.

maybe the Dark Presence is some kind of spirit of the Dark Place, and corruption in one leads to corruption in the other. so where did it start, if they weren't always like that?

the green/red Polaris/Hiss color scheme is all over AW2. Scratch is red like the Hiss. why is the Dark Presence so similar to the Hiss. what does it FUCKING mean, Sam.

(I have been thinking "the Hiss wasn't originally Like That" since I first played Control. something something the Hiss being embodied in Dylan who wasn't originally Like That either. so that makes me wonder even more about the Dark Presence, when they share those similarities. I cannot stop thinking about the apparently dead world that Hedron et al. came from. about the implication that something is eating away at the Oldest House, that its roots are withering. about the apparently empty world of the Quarry and the City. about how empty and occasionally extraordinarily violent the Astral Plane is when we see how full of life and personality the Altered Items are and how many of them don't really mean harm. about what might have made the Dark Place like that. what the fuck is happening out there in the conceptual reality behind this reality.)

there is the possible implication that the Diver had some hand in creating Scratch? maybe? but that goes back to the question of what the Diver is - Zane, the light/Bright Presence, something else. and what the goal is there. who knows.

I've said this elsewhere but I think Scratch in AWAN is more like. a ghoulish sliver of the Dark Presence mimicking reality like Jagger does, a finger of a giant hand trying to manipulate things. whereas Scratch in AW2 is the Dark Presence more fully embodied and also lost in the sauce. and it has fucked up big time by trying to use Alan to escape, tying itself too closely to him, to the point that even its grand escape is distorted by details of Alan's life. I don't think Evil Deerfest is necessarily what it might have originally wanted, but rather a sign that Dark Presence and Alan have overlapped to the point that Alan is changing it. like it's stuck in the Scratch persona now. has put on a skin that it struggles to take off. (but that's just a game theor--)

like. maybe it wasn't always a rabid beast of an entity and the Dark Place wasn't always a nightmare hell world, or maybe it's always wanted to get out of the Dark Place and doesn't necessarily have roots there. but over time Dark Presence/Place have absorbed and reflected so much of whatever corruption is going on that now Presence/Place want to make a distorted fun house mirror out of everything.

except. now the Dark Presence is not solely mirroring and reflecting corruption and "darkness" anymore. it's starting to mirror Alan even after it jumps out of his body, and, like Dylan being the narrative focus of physical embodiment for the Hiss, Alan is a (relatively) normal person who has been trapped and isolated for a very long time, which does strange things to a person. Barbara was just a sweet woman who got very unlucky. maybe the Dark Presence used to be similar. Evil Deerfest is strangely bright. we've seen it change, a little bit. something is going on there.

so I would like to see something a little more nuanced than "killing the evil" or whatever. (especially when it was all that Jesse and Polaris could do just to shut the door on the Hiss. ain't no way it's that easy.)

[vampirecatboy]

late because i had a thing this afternoon, then my queue ate the first version of this post lol, so here it is, my third and final fic for Wyll week!

today's prompt was "alternate use for the tadpole," it's roughly 2.4k of plotless smut, and you can read it on ao3 right here

There was something about Wyll, something Kilian had noticed during their time spent on the road together.

Every word of praise he got, no matter who it came from, did something to him.

Kilian didn't actually notice until recently, as they started spending more one on one time together. Every time Wyll received praise, he practically radiated pride, Kilian could almost envision a wagging tail.

And when the praise came from Kilian himself, well… Wyll seemed to like it in a different way. The shy smile and glance away, the subtle but not quite subtle enough biting of his lip. It was all very cute, and it made Kilian want to hold him down and see just how far the praise could take him. 

On a night like any other, Kilian got the chance to do just that.

He and Wyll would occasionally stay up together, drinking and sharing stories from their pasts, Wyll with tales of fearsome monsters and hard-won battles, Kilian with salacious stories of his early twenties. It was a bit underhanded on Kilian’s part, because on the one hand he wanted to respect Wyll’s desire to wait, but on the other hand, part of him really wanted to rile him up enough to let Kilian between his legs.

With his recent discovery of Wyll’s thing for praise, he wondered if he had at last found the key to Wyll’s proverbial chastity belt. It would just take a little storytelling and embellishment on Kilian’s part, but he knew he had it in him. What was embellishment if not lying with plot?

“Have I ever told you about the cleric?” Kilian said, having waited for a lull in conversation to voice his little fabrication.

Wyll took a swig of the wine they were sharing and looked at him curiously.

“No, I don’t think you have,” he said. “Is this another notch-in-the-bedpost story?”

“Mon ange, those are the only interesting stories I have,” Kilian remarked dryly.

“Not true!” Wyll furrowed his brow and gave a kind smile. “I quite liked the one about your sister and that, uh… he was a noble but I can’t remember what you said… ugh, what was he? Duke?”

“Marquis,” Kilian smirked. “And the fact that you cannot remember tells me it was not an interesting story.”

“Aha, but I remember that he gifted her a room of flowers she was allergic to, then her throat almost closed up and she had to be physically stopped from casting fireball to destroy them,” Wyll said, smiling all the while. “The nobleman’s title was inconsequential to the story.”

Kilian stared at him blankly, and Wyll just kept smiling. It was almost annoying how good he was at this. Almost.

“Tell me again how I don’t remember?” He nudged Kilian with his elbow.

Kilian grumbled and batted him away. “Do you want to hear the cleric story or not?”

“Sure, love, tell me about your priest kink.”

Kilian snatched the wine bottle from him as he laughed, and took several swallows of the tasty red.

“Gods, you are a pain in my ass,” he said. Any guilt he felt for taking advantage of Wyll’s little thing for praise vanished in that moment. Wyll wanted to tease him? Well, he would tease Wyll right back. “So the cleric… he was this cute little half elf. Lovely brown skin, gorgeous, dark red hair, and just the prettiest eyes, the color of sunshine.”

All true. Kilian had met this cleric through a mutual “friend.” The three of them shared many a steamy evening together, enjoying each other’s bodies. He would leave the third out of his story, Wyll didn’t need to know that particular detail.

“He was so sweet but had a voracious sexual appetite,” he continued. “I could barely keep up.”

“Based on your past stories, that’s really saying something,” Wyll chuckled.

“Make a man with no need to rest between orgasms and he will inevitably tire out those that do.”

Wyll’s brow furrowed.

“He had a cunt,” Kilian clarified.

“Huh,” Wyll blinked at him. “That would do it.”

“I took it as a compliment,” he said. “I was clearly satisfying him if he wanted it so much.”

“This is starting to sound like a brag,” Wyll said flatly.

Kilian cringed. “Pardonne-moi, I got carried away.”

Wyll waved his hand dismissively.

“To get back on track…” Kilian started. “He may have been running me into the ground in terms of frequency, but soon after we met, I discovered something about him that often gave me the upper hand during our late-night liaisons.”

Wyll put the wine bottle on the ground beside him and leaned closer. “Yeah?”

Kilian looked him square in the eye and said, “‘Good boy.’”

Wyll froze, his eyes widening almost imperceptibly. 

“I- I’m sorry?” he stammered. 

“I would call him a good boy,” Kilian smiled.

“Oh…”

“He loved when I praised him,” Kilian said. “It would always make him melt. Good boy , you’re doing so well , be good and come for me .”

With each word, Wyll looked more shy, and Kilian only grew more bold.

He pressed his hand flat to Wyll’s chest. “Can you be good for me? Hm ?”

He could feel Wyll’s racing heart.

“Kilian…”

“Yes, mon ange?”

“Are you… are you doing something to me?” Wyll asked. 

“Is something I am saying affecting you?” Kilian asked in return. “Would you like to be praised?”

Wyll stammered, “I- well- I don’t- I don’t know, I-”

Kilian took his face in his hands and leaned in close.

“Because I could,” he murmured. “You are so good, Wyll. So, so good.”

Wyll closed his eyes and exhaled slowly.

“You like that?”

Wyll nodded, biting his lip 

“Oh…” Kilian cooed. “My sweet boy.”

He pressed his lips to Wyll’s in a soft kiss, then another, and another. They could never do just one kiss, not when they were alone. There was typically a stopping point, but that night was different. Wyll was softer, more pliable, giving Kilian the perfect opportunity to swing a leg over his thighs and settle in his lap.

Wyll didn’t protest. In fact, he seemed to be very into it, wrapping his arms around Kilian’s waist and gripping his shirt as he continued to ravish him with his mouth. Their kisses grew more heated, and before long, Kilian was rocking his hips against Wyll’s, while Wyll slid his hands up the back of his shirt.

Feeling his warm, rough hands on his back had all sorts of filthy ideas running through Kilian’s head. Wyll underneath him, stripped naked, writhing and squirming and clawing at his skin as Kilian plowed into him relentlessly.

Or should his hands be tied? Kilian always did love a spot of rope in the bedroom. Maybe a blindfold too.

He wished he could show Wyll all of it, see what he liked, because as of right then, the only thing that he knew Wyll liked was praise. And Kilian himself of course.

No. There was a way to show him. They wouldn’t even have to take their clothes off.

“There is so much I want to do to you, Wyll,” Kilian whispered into his mouth.

“I- I… I want to know, but…” Wyll bit his lip and looked away.

“I can show you…” He pressed their foreheads together. “If you let me in.”

“Let you-”

Kilian tapped into the little wriggling guest in his head, reaching out to Wyll in an attempt to enter his mind.

“I will let you in too,” he said. “We can share.”

Wyll chewed his lip and held his stare, until finally, Kilian felt the barrier come down. He could see Wyll’s thoughts, loose images that, at the moment, were all Kilian.

“Good boy.”

A burst of elation and arousal. That boded well for Kilian’s plan.

“Do you want to see?”

Wyll nodded.

Kilian closed his eyes and concentrated on the scene in his head.

They were on Kilian’s bed, back at his family’s estate, stripped down to their chemises. Kilian teased a kiss, barely brushing Wyll’s lips, squeezing one of his pecs as he slid his lips along Wyll’s jaw, until he found the smooth skin of his throat.

Wyll sighed and carded his fingers through Kilian’s hair, but his soft, relaxed noises of contentment shifted as Kilian reached down and cupped him through his pants.

Kilian divested him of his shirt, and skillfully undid the fastenings of his pants before pushing him onto his back and removing his own shirt. Wyll lied before him, panting and disheveled, staring up at Kilian with a look of pure lust, pure hunger.

“Let me see you,” he said, running his hand down his chest and stomach, sliding it down, down into his underwear. “Show me what you’ll give me.”

“Mm, say please,” Kilian smiled sweetly, tilting his head.

“Please,” Wyll obeyed. “I want to see you.”

“Good boy.”

Kilian could feel Wyll’s growing arousal tickling the back of his mind. Time to turn it up a notch.

Ever the tease, Kilian slowly undid his pants’ fastenings, hooking his thumbs under his waistband, before pushing them down his thighs, along with his underwear. Wyll’s hand moved in a slow, steady motion between his legs, pumping his cock as Kilian revealed himself.

“Your turn.” With just those words as warning, Kilian reached forward, and tugged Wyll’s remaining clothes from his body.

At last, Wyll was laid out before him, naked, skin glistening with sweat, body ready to be taken.

And Kilian would take him, but only when he begged for it.

He pressed kisses to the insides of Wyll’s thighs, nipping and sucking, getting closer and closer to where he knew Wyll wanted it, skirting around his swollen cock, teasing and teasing until Wyll was shaking, his chest heaving.

Only when his fingers dug into the sheets did Kilian dive in and drag his tongue up his length.

Wyll cried out as Kilian took him in his mouth, fingers weaving into Kilian’s hair as he bobbed his head, groaning and gasping as Kilian expertly worked him over.

“Kilian…” he sighed.

He was leaking profusely, panting and squirming, moments from coming, so of course he let out a needy whine when Kilian abruptly pulled off.

Kilian hushed him, pressing kisses to his hip, stomach, ribs, making his way to Wyll’s chest and wrapping his lips around a nipple. He swirled his tongue around the sensitive bud, steadily stroking Wyll’s cock all the while.

Then his fingers trailed down, further between his legs. Wyll gasped when he pressed them to his hole, groaned as Kilian slowly pushed inside him. They went in easy, already slick, and Wyll spread his legs just a little wider.

Kilian thrusted into him, searching for that place inside him that would make him so, so wet. Wyll panted in time with his thrusting, until at last-

“Fuck-!” His back arched, his fingers dug into Kilian’s arm, he writhed and cried out as Kilian relentlessly fucked into him, zeroing in on his prostate. “Kilian! Kilian! Stop, I can’t-!”

Kilian pulled his fingers from Wyll’s body, leaving him gasping as he was robbed of his climax yet again.

Wyll looked up at him with hazy eyes, watched as he rose onto his knees, rid himself of his last piece of clothing and slicked his cock.

“Tell me you want it,” Kilian purred, rubbing his cock against Wyll’s hole.

Wyll groaned.

“Fuck me,” he said between breaths. “Please, fuck me.”

Kilian grinned, biting his lip-

“Good boy.”

-and slid his cock inside Wyll in one smooth motion.

He fell forward onto his hands, caging Wyll in as he rolled his hips. Wyll was silent, save for his heavy breathing, as he acclimated himself to Kilian.

“You feel amazing, mon ange,” Kilian said softly into Wyll’s ear. “It is like you were made for me.”

Wyll turned his head, their noses bumping as he tilted his chin up.

Kilian chuckled warmly, and pressed his lips to Wyll’s again and again as he thrusted into him. Wyll’s lips parted for Kilian’s tongue, eagerly meeting him with enthusiasm.

He cried out suddenly, throwing his head back. Kilian sunk his teeth into Wyll’s exposed throat as he thrusted harder, and Wyll clawed at his back.

“Gods…” Wyll groaned. “There… right there…”

Kilian fucked into him relentlessly, his pleasure only growing as Wyll fell apart beneath him.

Wyll’s moans grew in desperation, Kilian could tell he was close. He railed into him without quarter, chasing his high, seeming to hit Wyll’s prostate with almost every thrust.

“Be a good boy and- fuck- come for me.”

He clawed at Kilian’s back, gasped and panted as his pleasure grew and grew until at last, cum shot out of him, spattering up to his neck, the white contrasting beautifully with his dark skin.

Kilian was moments behind him, pressing as deep inside Wyll as he could as he came, filling him with his seed.

He opened his eyes as he severed his connection to Wyll, just as Wyll, too, opened his eyes. He looked at Kilian with a hint of something he’d seen maybe once before. Lust, hunger, need. And sure enough, when Kilian shifted in Wyll’s lap, he could tell they were in similar states of arousal. Wyll inhaled sharply.

“That was… quite the show,” he said, sounding out of breath.

KIlian smiled and pressed closer, wrapping his arms around Wyll’s shoulders.

“I wanted to give you a clear picture.”

“And… that’s what’s awaiting me, is it?” Wyll asked.

“I am open to edits,” Kilian said. “But yes, whenever you want it, mon ange.”

Wyll glanced away and bit his lip.

“And if I said I wanted it now?”

Kilian blinked. “I thought you wanted to wait.”

“I don’t want to wait anymore.” He took Kilian’s face in his hands. “I want you, Kilian. I really, really want you. We might die tomorrow, and I don’t want to die without actually… feeling you.”

“Well, when you put it like that…” Kilian put his hands flat on Wyll’s chest, pushed him onto his back, “I cannot help but agree,” and captured his lips in a deep, passionate kiss, filled with promise.

[elvenbeard]

Pier Selfies

Johnny's death's anniversary feels particularly heavy that year, so much so that Kerry had planned to just not get up at all. Unless to get even more drunk maybe. Then V swings by, as if he’d known in what state to find him… But instead of joining him in bed (not cool) he drags him outside where it's bright and warm and loud and everyone's so fucking happy... it sucks.

V is thankfully not forcing him to pretend that it's a day like any other, neither is he offering unwanted advice. In fact he's just... there. With him. Occasionally taking his hand, or maybe even just lacing their pinky fingers. Leaning against him, gently nudging into him when they walk side-by-side. They barely talk all day, really. Not a single “are you okay?”, thankfully, that might have made him drive back home instantly. Just occasionally something inconsequential like “do you want to grab food over there?” and that would be the end of it when Kerry says he isn’t hungry. Every single time something comes up that would have normally tempted him to just snap back, get mad… all his anger is diffused the same moment.

It’s strange, it’s different… It takes him all day, but eventually Kerry realizes V might be the only person to really understand just how much this still hurt. Probably much better than anyone before ever did.

He disappears briefly to grab something to drink for himself, leaving Kerry to think and smoke and stare into the void for a few minutes. And he hates to admit it… but the sea breeze, the sun, it does feel good. He does feel a little better than he did this morning, did yesterday, did all week before really.

Suddenly there's a slight clicking noise not far behind him. He’d heard V coming back, so familiar the way he walked by now, confident and with a little swagger, the sound of his boots on the pavement unmistakable.

"The hell are ya doing?" he turns around, not angry, but confused.

"Sorry," V says, smiling sheepishly, "You looked so pretty in the sun, I couldn't resist."

"Pretty pathetic, you mean?" Kerry mutters as V joins him by the railing. He just doesn't seem to manage a single kind word today, not towards V or to himself, and that just increases his frustration. He wonders how the fuck V just manages to stay so calm about it, sipping his NiCola. He would have blown a fuse by now.

"Nothing pathetic about missing your best friend," is V's reply eventually, sober and quiet. Fuck. Yes, he does understand.

Kerry huffs, puts his cigarette out, and then forces himself to relax his shoulders.

"Lemme see," he says and V shows him the pics he took. He can't help but smile at V's mischievous grin in one of them, right after he noticed him.

"You're such a gonk," he chuckles.

"And I almost got away with it," V says proudly, leaning against the railing, letting his head fall back, soda can still in hand, eyes closed and basking in the sun. Kerry catches himself staring at his pulse point, right next to the gleaming silver lines of his cyberware, his dark tattoos moving over his muscles...

“Yeah, you almost did,” he says quietly, and his thoughts begin to spiral downwards again. V’s eyes blink open, and he straightens up, but says nothing for a couple of moments. Then he pulls out his phone again.

“Come on, look at us! I think together we could take some preem ones. ‘bout time we add some good memories to the day.”

Not replace, or erase. Add some new ones. If he wasn’t so numb still, he might have started bawling right then and there.

“Fuck, like some teens on their first date?” Kerry moans, as always excelling at not letting his inner workings show too much all at once.

V turns to him with a smirk, phone already in position above their heads.

“What? Scared you’re out of practice, millennial?”

“Oh, I’ll show you who’s out of practice, kid,” Kerry says, pulling V closer.

Yes, maybe they were both just pretending that everything was going to be alright, on a day like this. But maybe a little bit of pretending was the key to somehow making it through it all.

-------

I just went and took a ton of screenshots the other day with no real purpose other than "cute couple selfies polaroid-style, yay!". But as I was going through them to pick some faves for editing and arranging, I felt like maybe there is a story to this after all...

bonus of my favourite out of the whole set, because I can literally hear and see them moving here, like... Kerry fixing his hair cause it's fuckin wimdy and Vince just being a massive gonk commenting on it or something else, probably just taking this pic on accident. Didn't think jojo's bizarre photomode idles could make for such a good moment XD

[all-or-nothing-baby]

15 QUESTIONS, 15 (or whatever) TAGS

i was tagged by @ash-mcj—thanks dude! HERE is their's.

.

1. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYBODY?

my middle name is the name of my mum's friend/dad's ex who died (my folks ended up getting together a year later).

2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED?

about 10 minutes ago? to WELLY BOOTS which is an amazing devil song i've heard 10,000 times before. i honestly cry a gajillion times a day bc i don't just cry at sad stuff but also anything that moves me: from hearing a wonderful piece of music... to someone saying something kind to me or anybody else (real person or fictional character)... to being overwhelmed by the enormity of life and all its fucked-up and wonderful complexities... seriously, absolutely bloody everything makes me cry!

3. DO YOU HAVE KIDS?

yes, two of 'em; a brilliant, beautiful, super-talented, immensely kind and outrageously hilarious 24 year old and a brilliant, beautiful, super-talented, immensely kind and outrageously hilarious 15 year old :) they're incredibly different individuals who bicker like siblings absolutely should and love each other a lot. i love them both so much it makes me cry when i think about it (surprise surprise).

4. DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT?

oh, no, never. (probs too much at times—although i don't always understand when others are using it with me #neurodiversesquad).

5. WHAT SPORTS DO YOU PLAY/HAVE YOU PLAYED?

used to do what the american folks call 'run track', back in the day before chronic illnesses became the villain in my story.

6. WHAT'S THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT SOMEONE?

whether they, you know, get it (or not).

7. EYE COLOUR?

erm, a bit of an odd sort of dark grey/blue with lots of dark green swirls and splodges

8. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS?

oh definitely scary movies, horror my beloved <3 i think i'm finally (bc it's been on my list for so long omg) gonna get around to watching RELIC tonight! *scratching at the door noises*

9. ANY SPECIAL TALENTS?

forgetting absolutely fucking anything and everything all the fucking time. ALWAYS knowing the first letter of the word i can't think of. having a bit of a photographic memory. being able to play the william tell overture by flicking my fingernails against my front teeth. making really good pancakes. good at accents. pretty good at drawing faces. playing music by ear. great at making inconsequential lists lol

10. WHERE WERE YOU BORN?

blackpool, a seaside town in the north-west of england, UK. imo it's a veritable shithole these days, only good for trashy arcades and getting stabbed... but i do miss the ocean now i don't live there.

11. WHAT ARE YOUR HOBBIES?

making art, making words, making mixtapes, making trouble, making time for reading, making music, making a mess.

12. DO YOU HAVE PETS?

yes—i couldn't imagine not having critters in the house! i have 4 precious arseholes cats: little jimmy novak and moriarty, who are both house-loving cats—like, they do go out, but are indoors wanting cuddles more often than not. whereas the other two, grace jones ii and goku, are practically feral and only really come home for dinner and if it's raining hard (and the occasional i-will-allow-you-to-stroke-me-and-let-you-have-the-honour-of-me-sitting-on-your-knee-i-suppose).

13. HOW TALL ARE YOU?

5'2". short king.

14. FAVOURITE SUBJECT IN SCHOOL?

loved art and english in high-school, and also enjoyed drama and history. i studied art at college and fashion at uni (which was a mistake, that world was very much not for me pfft).

15. DREAM JOB?

i honestly don't dream of jobs. but if i did? i suppose a portrait artist or published poet who was paid enough to actually live on, aha.

.

tagging, play or nay: @shealynn88 @sharkfish @novemberhush @greyhavenisback @poebin @jmeelee @raisesomehale @rajalagang @ohhalefire @halinski @kikiroo @lovebillyhargrove @harrgrove @slytherkins @witchsickness @ltleflrt @wellwaterhysteria @deklo @chasingcastiel @racheld93 @gabedemon absolutely anybody else who wants to do the thing!

[litgwritersroom]

REVELATIONS

Love Island, Actually Chapter Nine

read it on ao3 | chapter one | chapter seven

Difficult conversations are had as Delilah and Bruno are forced to deal with his past and Jules is confronted with the aftermath of her rendezvous. Meanwhile, Bridget and Bobby put their feet in their mouths and it gets River considering things she never did before…

DELILAH: breaking free

Sounds. There were so many sounds in the silence. The car doors shutting them in, the blast coming from the grates of the heaters, the buckle of the belts, but the one sound that was sorely absent, almost painful, was their voices.

A deep exhale, inconsequential muttering under the breath, mumbles to fill in the silence. That was all that was exchanged between them. Delilah was brought back to the days after she and Lucas had ended things, to the silence that lingered in her life after that. The accursed lack of noise, the refusal of words out loud … it was a violence that was ironically never spoken about enough.

As the busy Friday lunchtime roads kept them stalling, the red light following a red light following a red light, the journey back to Bruno’s became frustratingly longer. Delilah didn’t want to talk about it in the car, but words tried to pull out of the back of her throat, scraping her bare as she had to swallow them back down.

Idle small talk felt so out of place, but the void was stretching, threatening to swallow her. It weighed heavy like she was meant to carry it as a Greek God would, but she was only human. Still, she had to try.

“That –”

“So –”

The crashing of words stopped them in their tracks, an awkward, insincere laugh following in its wake.

“We can talk when we get back to my place…” Bruno said, sounding lacklustre, like he knew something disappointing was brewing.

How bad was this news going to be, Delilah was left wondering. She was haunted by that last glance over at Jules; the frozen expression on her face like a deer caught in headlights. The texts from the woman of the same name that Bruno had insisted she needn’t worry about. Her knuckles shone white as she gripped the steering wheel.

The complex Delilah pulled them into was her first time. She and Bruno had only visited her place, and this was meant to be her first time treading into his turf. He had lived with Thea before she moved, and still had another roommate, so it was easier going to Delilah’s. Bruno had mentioned more than once that Lottie was an alternative girl who believed heavily in crystals and believed wholeheartedly that she practised real witchcraft.

Despite the awkwardness that had settled in the last half hour or so, Bruno opened the doors for Delilah, took her hand in his, led her in first so she was out of the cold quicker.

The place wasn’t the biggest, despite being fitted to house at least three people. The furniture wasn’t from the same set, let alone going for the same look; outdated rather than old-fashioned, with the occasional splash of the occupants' personalities here and there to try and make it feel more homely.

The remaining roommate was on the gingham sofa. Clearly a piece that came with the flat.

“Hey, Lottie,” Bruno said, as normal as could be. It was like there was no tension to be found, right up until he looked at Delilah, his finger pointing his way, adding, “This is, uhh –” and he floundered, unable to put a label on her after the display at her work.

Delilah reached over to Lottie. “Delilah,” she offered along with her hand.

“Lottie.” Her eyes narrowed, but not in a suspicious way, but like she was trying to place her. “Why do I feel like I know you from somewhere?”

Delilah sucked in her lips. In her gothic get up, Lottie was as striking as could be. She was not someone to forget, and Delilah had no memory of ever meeting her.

“Er, I sort of knew Thea? My sister-in-law owns The Sterling.”

The lightbulb went off for Lottie, lighting up her face in recognition.

“Right! You must be Gary’s sister! That’s how I know you!”

Delilah’s eyes widened. “Eh, yeah, we’re –”

“Twins! Yes, I’ve seen your picture in his office. I’m working with him at the minute, filling in a temporary position in his office.” Her brows arched up. “How’s he doing? We all missed him so much while he was on his honeymoon. It definitely wasn’t the same without him making his jokes all the time. He has the best banter.”

“That’s debatable,” Delilah said as kindly as she could to this stranger. “He’s good, cloud nine, that sort of thing. Settling into married life and all that.”

“Do you want a drink or anything, Delilah?” Bruno asked.

Delilah was thankful for the interruption. She wasn’t super into discussing her brother with Lottie, especially when she and Bruno still had their cross to bear. She shook her head and excused herself politely. Bruno led the way to his room, and she followed.

The door closed behind them, shuttering out Lottie, Jules, and the whole world. The silence from before sprang open, ready for them to dive onto, ready to catapult them high in the sky. Would they stay there, floating in the stars, or would they crash and burn, skidding across the ground.

Already Delilah had fallen so hard for Bruno. The question remained over how bruised and broken she would be when she landed this time around. Or if she ever would.

She was praying for the latter.

“So,” Delilah began, removing her scarf onto his bed. She could smell the fresh fabric softener, signalling that he had changed the sheets not too long ago. The fragrance filled his room. It was dizzying and delightful at the same time, but she was too burdened with what had just happened to allow her thoughts to linger on this gesture.

“... Yeah.” Bruno shrugged his jacket off, slinging it over his desk chair, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. He sighed, and it quickly lengthened out into a groan as he remained not making eye contact with her.

Delilah sat on his bed, reminiscent of a teenager confined to a singular room for privacy.

“That was really awkward, I’m sorry.” He looked at her finally, the apology clear in his eyes, the unease of the situation lingering on his face.

“Jules is your ex,” Delilah offered, willing the statement to be true over anything else that could have been a possibility. Already she’d made the connection to the ‘Jools’ in his contacts. She’d have to be daft not to.

“Sort of.”

Brows raised, Delilah pushed, “Sort of how? Like … you’re still seeing her? I know you’re messaging each other about meeting up.”

His mouth hung open like he was scrambling for something to put there. Words, excuses, explanations. Just something. As he struggled and stammered, Delilah’s head was filled with the text message she’d read on his phone, someone else’s name lit up on the screen.

There was a whole mix of emotions swirling within her, trying to bubble up to boiling point. She had to work hard to keep everything down, to stop anything from spilling over, from overreacting or panicking. It was fine, everything was good, explainable. She and Bruno could talk through whatever the hell had just happened.

“Delly,” he said, voice strained, as he came lumbering onto the bed next to her, his knees leaving an imprint in the sheets as he made his way over. He laid his hands gently on her arm and she felt herself melting in an instance.

She liked Bruno. She liked him a lot. Was he different to the man she had thought she was getting to know these past few weeks? How long did you have to be with someone before you knew them? She thought she had got to that point already. She thought she had him pinned, her impression infallible. He was a good man, and a good friend, and a good boyfriend. If she had been wrong, she couldn’t bear the thought of what she’d have to do.

“Delly, I’m really sorry, and I get how that looked,” he went on, the same urgency that laced his voice making its way to his pupils, the concern spinning in his blue irises, “but please believe me that nothing is going on … anymore.”

There was a lump in her throat at that last word. Tacked on at the last minute. The blow had been softened, only for the anvil to land on her head anyway.

“...Elaborate,” she said, the words pouring through her teeth, the only way she could get them out at all.

He paused again. Why was this so hard for him to explain? It’s what was making Delilah’s insecurity triple.

“We were … seeing each other, for a bit,” he went on, his hands talking with him, something Delilah had noted him doing in his comedy sketch when he was rehearsed but nervous. “It never went anywhere serious, to be honest, and by the time I had met you, Delilah, I barely noticed that Jules had sort of ghosted me.”

“But you’re messaging her. She’s the Jools you have in your phone.”

“Yeah,” he said, uneasily, like she’d caught him out on a technicality. “She messaged me randomly to say sorry for how she’d treated me. The night we met Jules had … stood me up…”

Delilah found that that last confession did little to cheer her up.

“Like I said, though, I’ve been having such a great time with you that I hadn’t really thought about Jules until she messaged me.”

“So you don’t care about her?”

“It’s not that I don’t care … We’re sort of becoming friends in a way? She’s been more open and friendly with me since we stopped having sex.”

She pushed and she pushed and she pushed back tears that floated behind her eyes, desperate not to give in to them. “I know it’s only been a short time, Bruno, but I think I deserve a little more than what happened earlier. I don’t want to sound needy, but it did hurt when you blurted out for everyone, specifically Jules, that you and I weren’t – serious, basically. I thought that’s what we were aiming for and I don’t want to be someone’s fun time, or the in-between. I want to be someone’s first choice.” She exhaled deeply, taking a short second to herself before adding, “I want to be the only choice.”

His expression had softened, the embarrassment and unease seeping off and she could see the certainty behind his eyes saying that’s what he wanted, too. That he felt that way as well.

Delilah wanted to believe it. She wanted to believe it so bad. Everything was too fresh, and what he’d done and what he’s said was telling a different story to the one playing in the way he looked at her. She needed to know the climax now because she wasn’t interested in unhappy endings. Call it cheap, call it cliche, call it boring, but she was a happily ever after girl and she wasn’t going to apologise for wishing and hoping and praying for the best.

He shut his eyes tight for a fleeting moment. “I know. I know. I’m sorry, it all happened so quickly, it just came out. I didn’t want Jules to think I’d had a girlfriend the entire time I’d been seeing her or something.”

Something felt caught in her chest, pulling tight on the strings that were already so taught, to the point she was beginning to feel them fray. “So you care more about how she feels than how I do?”

His eyes went wide. “No, no! It’s not like that! I just - I didn’t want a scene to happen, you know? Like she realises I have a girlfriend and she does the right thing and confronts me in front of you and your work colleagues and then because Jules is blowing up at me you get this idea that I’ve been two-timing when - let me just be clear, there was noooo overlap in the slightest - basically, I could see it spilling out into a nightmare.” He breathed in deeply. “And I’m so sorry that it ended up making you feel bad. This isn’t - it’s not - I didn’t think what I had with Jules was worth explaining before, but if I’d known you work with her…”

Delilah’s mouth thinned sheepishly. “Well, I don’t technically. I just happen to be collaborating with her to boost Mason’s profile since she works at the biggest music magazine.”

“Oh, see!” Bruno slapped his hands together with such a bang his skin must have stung, but he soldiered on, carrying out his jubilant point. “I had no idea she worked in music - or journalism - I think that’s what it would be? But yeah, see, that’s how little I know Jules.”

“So the relationship was just sex?”

“Yes!”

“And you're still in contact?”

“Yeah!”

He looked at her. She looked at him.

“I should stop that, probably…” he added, sucking his bottom lip inwards.

“I mean …” Delilah’s eyes bulged momentarily. “It’s not great from my perspective, truth be told.”

“That’s totally understandable, and don’t worry. I - You won’t have to worry about me or Jules again, that’s a promise.”

Delilah nodded, feeling lighter. “Shake on it?” She said, holding out her hand reminiscent of their date.

“It’s a deal,” he grinned.

His hand clasped hers and though this small exchange was just that - small - Delilah let it encompass her. She wanted to shake out all the negative feelings, to keep flying high, soaring to that happily ever after in the city skyline. She knew she had to land at some point, but that wasn’t going to be today, and it wasn’t going to end in a bloody heap.

“But are we on the same page?” She asked tentatively. This time she felt a lot more secure in the answer she’d get.

“Same page, same book, same genre,” he said, laying down on his side, finally getting comfortable. “You’re my only choice, Delilah. As soon as I met you I knew that. There isn’t anyone else to even compare.”

For the first time since she first saw him that day, she dared to smile. It flit in at the corners of her mouth, daring to spread to her cheeks, infecting itself into her eyes to make them sparkle, infecting her mood and uplifting her.

Bruno copied her smiled. “It’s weird, but I feel like I’ve known you a lot longer than I actually have. It’s like we’ve been doing this forever. I can’t believe you weren’t in my life even a month ago.”

“I know what you mean,” she said, mirroring how comfortably he lay. “It feels so bizarre that you haven’t always been in my life, but you’ve been living your own, doing whatever, without me.”

“Not anymore,” he grinned. “It’s you and me now.”

“Pinkie promise?”

“Pinkie promise.”

They wrapped that small part of themself around one another, the gesture and the words as strong as an anchor. Maybe she didn’t have to keep trying to fly so high after all.

JULES: would’ve, could’ve, should’ve

It was quiet, the kind of quiet where you wished and prayed for some sort of noise to appear and give your racing mind something else to focus on. The bed that she’d spread out like a starfish on for the last few months suddenly felt crowded. Cramped. She found it hard to believe the two of them had ever shared this bed before.

“You know this can never happen again, right?”

Her voice was soft but she may as well have been screaming in the silence that had settled around them.

Suresh turned onto his side, fixing those striking green eyes on her. “I figured you would say that. But I don’t think that has to be the case,” he said, reaching out for her. His fingers had barely grazed her arm before she sat up and moved to the edge of the bed, turning so her naked back was to him.

“Jules,” he said softly, and she felt him shift behind her, his hands coming to lightly grip her shoulders. “Come on. This is dumb and you know it.” His lips on her neck. “I know you. You don’t want this to end.” 

Something about his words turned her blood to ice. Did he not think she was capable of thinking for herself? Of knowing what she needed? 

“But I do, Suresh,” Jules said, shooting to her feet, taking most of the blankets with her as she tried to wrap them around herself, turning to look at him a moment later. “Don’t you get it? I need this to be over.”

“I don’t think you do,” Suresh said, watching her with a guarded sort of expression. Gone was the stripped down version of him that she’d seen in the kitchen, the person that had served her those divorce papers to begin with was looking right at her now. 

“Maybe things weren’t perfect but I think what you need is for us to stay together. Jules, you’ve been miserable since we separated. Hell, you still haven’t told me what had you so upset earlier. You weren’t like that when we were together.”

“You were never around to see me like that!” Jules exclaimed, and she could hear the exasperation in her voice. “And who do you think you are, getting off on telling me what I need? What I needed was a husband who didn’t fuck other women, that was what I needed, but you couldn’t even give me that. What I needed was a husband who was emotionally available, okay, that was what I needed. You never gave me a damn thing I needed, Suresh, so how can you sit in our bed and tell me that giving you another chance is what I need? Huh?”

It came out of her like water flowing from a faucet, everything she had found herself wishing she could say to him since that night he left their flat with a bag and not even a goodbye. For once, she didn’t allow herself to hold back for fear of permanently damaging the delicate thing between them because that thing was already broken. Shattered.

A part of her had known that when she saw him standing outside her door, waiting to collect his things. She knew that there was no repairing this, no matter what he said to her or how many apologies he whispered into her skin. Call it closure or call it downright stupidity, but she’d known when she’d fallen into bed with him that it wasn’t going to be the glue that put their relationship back together. 

As petty as it was, it felt like a final fuck you to him. Letting him have one last taste of her, one last reminder of what all he’d thrown away, before she took it away from him. Because at the end of the day, he was the one who told her he didn’t want to sign the papers. She had all the power now; this was all over the minute she decided it was. And it had to be over; she couldn’t let this keep going on.

For her own sanity’s sake.

“And I told you I was sorry for that—” he began, but she cut him off.

“Actually, you didn’t. You told me you made a mistake and that you regret making that mistake but you have never once apologized for everything you’ve done to me, Suresh. And that’s the issue.”

“Okay, so what, then? You go through with the divorce, and what? You’re just fine with that? With throwing away five years?” he asked, and the way he was looking at her made her want to scream, like she was some kind of petulant child throwing a tantrum instead of an adult woman making actual, relevant points.

But of course, because she was pointing out his flaws, it was like he didn’t hear a damn thing she was saying.

“You threw away five years the second you started screwing someone behind my back,” she said, trying her damndest to keep her voice steady. “And our fucking boss I mean, how cliché can you be?”

“Don’t bring Talia into this, Jules,” he said, and she rolled her eyes.

“I think I have every right to bring her into this conversation when the only reason we have to even have this conversation is because you cheated on me with her, but sure, let’s leave Talia out of this!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms up. The blankets slipped down and she yanked them back up around her, blowing out a breath as she did so. God, having this argument when they were both naked hadn’t really been her plan.

“What are you going to do without me, Jules?” he asked, arching a dark brow at her. “You’ve been attached to my fucking hip since we started Uni. You don’t talk to your parents, you don’t have any siblings, you don’t have any friends.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “You don’t have anyone besides me.”

“I have me,” she said, the words rolling off her tongue quicker than she’d expected them to. “And I also have this flat since you took your name off of the lease, so you can get the hell out.”

Suresh looked at her for a long moment before he got up, yanking on the clothes that were scattered across the floor. “Fine, Jules. But you know what? When everything inevitably goes to shit—which it will—I’m not going to be here to save you.” He finished buttoning his shirt and snatched his jacket up, throwing it on as he fixed her with a hard look. “Remember that.”

She wasn’t sure she’d ever been so relieved to hear her front door slam in her entire life.

BRIDGET: faux pas

Usually, Bridget could be counted on being the life of the party. She loved people, so she’d circle the room and engage pretty much everyone in conversation, no matter if they were people she’d known for years or someone she just met on the spot. Being social was her thing, as she’d put people at ease, talking about any topic of conversation at hand or making them laugh with her easy banter.

Tonight she was feeling a bit off her game. Even though the party for Chelsea’s birthday at the Edwards’ household (which was practically a mansion) should’ve been exactly her type of scene, she somehow still felt a little intimidated by the opulence of the place, as she couldn’t shake off the feeling that she didn’t quite belong there. Which was a bit ridiculous, as she’d been hanging out with Gary and all his friends for years now, she knew practically everybody, including some of River and Chelsea’s extended family.

Maybe it was the fact that their brother Eddie had invited all the members of FourWay, including their manager Jasper and that had the potential to be a triple-fold minefield. Never mind the thing where, as Delilah’s best friend, Bridget should be totally against the band (Delilah insisted she didn’t need to engage in the ridiculous rivalry between FourWay and Mason Knowles, but Bridget knew better than that). But no, the issue was that she actually had personal history with not only one of the members but with their manager, too.

Back in her uni days, she’d lived a very ‘work hard, party hard’ lifestyle and on one such partying occasion she’d hooked up with Tom, way before he was known as the lead singer for the band. And she’d actually gone to uni with Jasper, where they’d had an on-again-off-again thing for a while.

But still, everybody had a past and Bridget would never be ashamed of hers. It was all water under the bridge (ha!), water off the duck’s back, still waters, not troublesome waters or… something? Anyway, that was all ages ago and they should all be able to behave like grownups in this social setting (she hoped).

Maybe her discomfort might be simply physical, as she’d been feeling off nearly the whole week. She hadn’t been violently ill since Tuesday, thank goodness, but every day she’d suffered from some bouts of nausea and headaches now and then. She wondered if maybe she should go to the doctor, but the symptoms seemed so minor that she was sure any day now they’d clear up and everything would go back to normal. And she’d never let something like this stop her from celebrating one of her dear friends, as Chelsea meant so much to her.

Maybe it was the absence of Delilah, as usually the two best friends would be joined at the hip during these events. Her sister-in-law did say she would be busy with the photoshoot for Mason’s article in the afternoon but that she’d try to stop by later. Bridget had sent her several texts that had gone with no reply so far, but she figured Delilah was probably spending more time with Bruno and she couldn’t blame her for prioritising her new beau over a party on a Friday night.

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that she’d got there alone, since Gary had come straight from the office. She’d even thought he might’ve been a bit late to the party since the whole week he’d missed dinner as he was working late, ironing out the details for the contract with the big client, yet it turned out he’d actually arrived early to help out with something about the sound system for the DJ? She wasn’t sure because just as Gary had been explaining it to her, River came up to them with a rather harried expression.

“There you are,” she said without preamble, placing a hand around Gary’s arm. “You need to come with me. Kassam says there’s something wrong with the audio system and he can’t figure out what you did.”

“Oh man,” he grumbled in exasperation with an annoyed expression. “Of course, he can’t. Fine, let’s see what the oh-so-famous-yet-technologically-challenged DJ needs now.”

Bridget chuckled as he handed her his beer before he followed River back through the throngs of people. She just stood there for a moment watching as they walked away before she mentally shook herself and turned around to socialise with the people around her. 

She chatted for a bit with Chelsea and her beautiful mother, Magnolia, as she complimented their home and the lovely party. She danced and joked around with Kobi and some of his friends, at one point laughing so much that she had legit tears in her eyes. She even bit the bullet and said hi to Tom and Jasper, the two men congratulating her on hearing news of her recent wedding. It was actually way nicer than she had expected, no awkward blunders, weird vibes or any other unpleasantness as she found it was still as easy to banter around with them as when they’d been close, literally another lifetime ago.

The music had been flowing around them for a while and even though Bridget kept moving around the room she couldn’t seem to find Gary anywhere. She had paused by the bar as she looked around to see if she could spot him when Bobby sidled up to her.

“Two drinks at once?” He commented with a smirk. “Someone’s looking to party hard.”

“The beer is actually Gary’s,” she clarified with a smile as she held it up. “I’ve been carrying this thing around for almost half an hour now, since River took him away to solve some music emergency.”

“And you’re still carrying it around?” Bobby asked with a bemused frown. “Why didn’t you just drink it? The thing’s probably gone stale.” He said, making a gesture with his hand and she handed it over.

“I would’ve, but my stomach was acting up earlier,” she said with a shrug. “I actually switched to ginger ale.” She gestured with the flute in her hand.

“You’re still feeling sick then?” He asked, tipping his head back to gulp down some of the beer before grimacing. “See? Stale.” He commented, before getting rid of the glass of beer and going back to his tumbler of scotch.

“No, I’m actually feeling loads better. Just had some bubbly earlier and it didn’t sit all that well with me,” she said, brushing it off, as she didn’t want to cause him concern, but she could still see the worry in his eyes. “Oh my god, your brother and his friends are hilarious!” She exclaimed, hoping to distract him. “That theatre kid, Johnny? I had literal tears in my eyes at the impressions he was making.”

That got Bobby going, because the mere idea that anyone would be as funny as him seemed to be a matter of pride and Bobby set out to prove that he was even funnier by charming her with his best jokes, impressions and top-notch banter. By the time Gary and River joined them, he had her in stitches and Bridget was feeling so much more at ease.

“Is it time for the Bobby Show already?” Gary asked with a smile as he circled his arms around Bridget. “Did Riv hire you as part of the entertainment for the night then?”

“Nah, this is all a labour of love,” Bobby said, throwing his best friend a cheeky wink.

“Maybe you should try being a standup, Bobs,” Bridget told him with a grin. “I hear comedians are very popular these days.”

River let out a quiet laugh at that and bumped her hip with Bobby’s, a teasing gleam in her eye as she looked him over.

“Oh really?” Gary turned to his wife with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. “Where did you get that?”

“It’s what I heard from Thea anyway,” Bridget said with a shrug. “One of her roommates is a standup comedian and sort of a regular at the pub.” She took a sip of ginger ale then to avoid mentioning anything about Delilah, as she was sure she hadn’t said anything about Bruno to her brother yet.

“Bobby McKenzie, standup comedian,” Bobby said with a laugh. “Not gonna lie, I kind of like the sound of that. Maybe I’ll check out some open mic nights?”

“Oh my god,” River said with an exaggerated sigh. “I see how my life is gonna be reduced to going ‘round to stand up bars now.”

“Bet you would love having a horde of fangirls going after all your shows,” Gary nudged him with an elbow to his ribs. “Do comedians get lots of hook-ups, you think?”

“According to Thea, they do,” Bridget said with a laugh. “But oh! I’d actually really love to see you with a nice girlfriend, Bobby. You’re such a great guy, you deserve to find happiness and love.”

If she could’ve taken those words back, she would’ve. She didn’t really think before saying them, because it was something that had been going around in her mind lately, how she wished Bobby would fall in love with someone and just be in a happy relationship. But she saw the flash of hurt in his eyes, as if those words directed at him coming from her were such a blow and in hindsight she could understand how it had been a bit insensitive of her.

She could feel she was about to start rambling away to dissipate the awkwardness in the air, as she wasn’t sure if it was all in her head or if everyone else could feel it too. But then River was speaking up, seemingly glossing over the potentially awkward moment as they continued with the conversation.

“Even if you don’t get a girlfriend out of it, at the very least you should get laid more often, boy,” River said with a smirk.

“Such a ladylike comment,” Gary snickered. “And in your mother’s house, too. Imagine what your mum would think if she heard that.”

“Excuse me if some of us like sex and aren’t afraid to admit it,” River huffed in response, a smile just tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Yeah,” Bobby said with a huff of his own, gazing into his scotch. “You and your married men.”

For a brief moment, Bridget had been expecting River to groan in response to what she was sure was a joke, as Gary would then launch into one of a thousand stories from their youth and reference a funny episode or another. But then Bobby looked up in alarm, almost as if surprised he’d said those words out loud. And looking at River she could see the same shock visible on her features, her eyes wide and her mouth just slightly open. She couldn’t look more shellshocked if Bobby had actually slapped her.

“Riv ─!” Bobby reached out reflexively, but she simply shook her head, her face like thunder as she hurriedly walked away. He ran a hand over his face and cursed under his breath, seeming to forget everyone else around him as he also started walking in the same direction she’d gone.

Bridget turned with a completely befuddled expression to Gary. “What the hell was that?”

“I honestly have no idea,” he said, turning to her with a confused frown.

“Really?” She asked in a disbelieving tone with a raised eyebrow. “You don’t know something that’s going on with River and Bobby?”

“I swear, I have no idea what that was, darling.”

She could see the honesty shining in the depths of his baby blues as well as his own sense of confusion, but something about that whole scene had her rattled. She opened her mouth to argue back, but then her stomach churned and she could feel the acid burning up her oesophagus.

She rushed by Chelsea as she ran across the room to the restroom and she made it just in time so she could empty the contents of her stomach into the toilet.

“Oh my god, babe!” Chelsea exclaimed in alarm as she walked in after her, crouching down next to Bridget and holding her hair back. “Are you okay?”

She could only shake her head as the wave of nausea hit her again. By the time she was done, Gary was also standing at the door of the restroom, his face marred with deep concern.

“What happened?” Chelsea asked as she helped her up and they walked to the sink. “Is it something you ate? Was it something in your drink?”

“No, don’t worry about it,” Bridget said dismissively as she splashed water on her face and rinsed her mouth. “It’s nothing to do with your party, I’ve been feeling off the whole week.”

The gasp coming from Chelsea was so loud that it seemed to suck all the air out of the room. “Oh my days! Babe, are you pregnant?!”

Bridget looked up in alarm at that. She met Gary’s eyes in the mirror and she could see the same shock etched on his features, as the thought hadn’t even crossed their minds before. She was glad the Edwards also had a big restroom with a chair on hand because suddenly she was standing on very shaky legs and needed to sit down.

Not only for the possibility of dealing with an unexpected pregnancy, but because in the back of her mind she couldn’t stop thinking about Bobby’s strange remark and how the only married man in River’s life was actually… Gary.

RIVER: heat waves

The door opened.

River didn't have to look at it to know it was Bobby. Maybe it was the certainty she had that he would never let her be mad at him for more than five minutes, maybe it was how there wasn't a single chance Bobby would let her think he hurt her on purpose, or maybe it was just the sound of his sneakers against the tiles that she had grown used to. Probably all of the above.

"How did you know I was here?" Her feet were inside the pool already. Even if it was the middle of December, the indoor pool was always warm.

From her periphery, she realised Bobby was taking his shoes off just to sit next to her, and she had to fight back a smile. "I realised when we were around fifteen that you like to hide in your indoor pool when you're upset, never really understand why, though."

"It's the furthest away from the house." She sighed, feeling his body get closer to her, so close they were almost touching. "And my dad never liked it here."

He hummed, like it all suddenly made sense and she hated it. Hated that he knew her well enough so her peculiarities that she was so proud of were easy to decode. Between River and Bobby there was no mystery, no cool girl with a distant heart, no pride to keep. She was his usual, his every day, a certainty, something he knew like the palm of his hand, and she hated it.

She avoided looking at him, just for now. It bothered her that he had this power over her mind, how he could make her feel incredibly bad then switch it up to make her happy again. It was a feeling in the pit of her stomach, one she learnt to avoid at any cost but that Bobby would bring back now and again. One that made her hate people and ruin herself over and over again just to bury deep down her chest.

"River," his voice, so overly sad, pierced through her, making her tremble. She knew he would make it good again, he always had a way of doing it.

"Let me be mad at you for a second," she spit the words, a little more aggressive than she meant it but never daring to look at him. If she couldn't control how easily Bobby would fix this, she at least would control when he did it.

There was nothing he could say about it except a low and begrudgingly, "Sure."

Again, River sighed. "You know, I really, I really trusted you with this. I know you don't owe me anything at all, Bobby, but I trusted you, so I told you. I would rather die than lie to you and I thought… Somehow you felt the same. Loyalty and all that."

"But I do, Riv, I—"

"Let me finish," she interrupted him, closing her eyes to not watch his response. "Anyway, I know you are… in love… with Bridget or whatever, and I always tried so hard to protect your feelings from yourself. I wish you had the same care with me as I have with you, that's all. I can't really… demand anything… but I would like it if you didn't put me in second place."

"I'd never… oh, River, I would never…"

"You did, you chose to tell my secret to everyone instead of facing her."

River hadn't noticed it before but when she opened her eyes and looked down, she had her hands closed so tight it was hurting her palms. They were sitting on her lap, pressing her thighs down and pushing her shoulders up. Her hair fell around her like a curtain, protecting her from Bobby's broken voice.

"I screwed up, didn't I?"

She looked down, she looked up, she looked ten metres forward, but all that didn't stop her from looking at him. Her heart broke almost immediately and she instantly forgave him, just like she knew she would. He was staring down at their feet, slowly touching the water, but even so, he just had that devastated look on his face. His long lashes looked wet with tears, like morning dew, and his always silly smile was taken by an upside-down curve that River would dare to call a frown.

There it was, that stupid wave of affection and love she had for Bobby and only he. All she wanted to do was hold his face with soft hands, caress his cheeks, kiss his temples and say it was fine, that she was fine now. Bobby looked sad, frustrated and disappointed, all things she had caused him herself. She had spent so long hating those who hurt him and now, look at her.

All she had to do was think for a while to conclude there was no way she could be mad at him. He could hurt her, push her, simply disappear, and River would love him again the moment he showed up. It sucked, believe it, she was well aware of that, but still, she couldn't change that for the life of her. Her heart had a soft spot for him and a mind of its own.

"I know I maybe deserved it," she sighed. "But I really trusted you."

In a sudden move — one she wasn't expecting, even if he was Bobby McKenzie — he grabbed her hand and squeezed it, making her eyes travel to their linked fingers. She wondered if he could feel the beat of her heart in his hand. "No, you didn't deserve it. I was a complete knob. This was on me, Riv."

Rived nodded in agreement, squeezing his hand, trying to be light, funny. "At least you are aware of it."

He chuckled, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "I know what you're doing…"

"Oh?" She blushed — thankful that the moonshine wasn't that bright at that time of the night — the sentence catching her off guard as if she was a reindeer and the words, headlights.

"You never let me apologise properly, you always interrupt me, say it's fine or make a joke, but you never let me finish," he sighed, turning to look her in the eyes. They were so golden, had she noticed it before?

She shook that thought off her head and tried to focus on what mattered. Again, Bobby was right — he had been right a lot lately. She never let him apologise. Because she was afraid of the look in his eyes when he was guilty, the feeling in the pit of her stomach when he looked at her as if she was too precious to lose, and the dread of breaking it if she pushed too far. River knew that out of all her flaws, the lacking knowledge of how to be loved was the biggest of them all.

For Bobby, she wanted to be the synonym for summertime, happiness, bike rides next to the beach, fireworks, and good friendship. Nothing less. And definitely nothing more.

But when did Bobby care for that silly bad impression she had of herself? "So, right here, right now, I'm stopping you to say I am sorry, River." He nodded, taking a deep breath. "I will never, ever do something like that again. Not telling your secrets to others, not lying to you, not shaming you. I love you and you're so fucking important to me, and…"

Love you. She thought about those words for an instant. Bless his heart, she knew they were honest and she couldn't even count the times they had said it to each other, but a man shouldn't be saying that type of thing to a woman in the middle of the night, that close to her.

But then, she stopped herself. She was the one who shouldn't be seeing the situation like that, she knew he meant it in a fraternal way. For god's sake, she was anything but fine that night. 

"It's fine, Bobby," she squeezed his hand and smiled before hugging him. And she was honest, it was really fine, after all. "I'm ok, I trust you. I love you. I just needed to cool down."

It was quiet for a while and she thought it was over. They would stand up and then go back to the party, if there was a party to go back to. If not, then he would stay a little longer and they would watch something on Netflix in her childhood bedroom.

But then she looked at him with one of her honest smiles and he had a mischievous smile that became a mischievous tone in his voice. "Cool down, you say?"

She only realised what he meant when his arms were circling her waist and they were falling.

Bobby pushed their bodies onto the pool. The water was warm, thankfully, due to its heating system, so the impact wasn't as big as it could've been. River didn't get the time to think before Bobby was splashing water around, laughing like a little kid, and making her follow him. 

Soon enough, they were splashing each other in a weird, no rules spoken, competition. She had a feeling she was about to win and he might as well have felt the same because one second they were joking and the next he was holding her by her wrists, keeping her lock close to his body so she wouldn't move.

Her breath caught in her throat as she tilted her head to look at him. Had she ever noticed how the moon shone through the window panels? Or was it just its reflection on Bobby's skin that would make it look that pretty? Inside his eyes, she could see it better. As she searched for answers to questions that she thought were long forgotten, she saw a glimpse of the moonshine and her own reflection, looking back. 

Time had frozen them on the spot, she thought for sure. What other reason would they have to be so quiet? Especially them, known for being loud and proud. The pressure of his fingertips on her skin started to tingle and, suddenly, River was much more aware of his engulfing presence and the few centimetres that made him taller than her. His cheeks, dusted with freckles, had a much brighter shade of scarlet and his dimples were looking so much clearer now.

Oh.

Bobby was handsome.

And she couldn't help but flush under the amber pair of eyes that looked at her back with an intensity that most definitely mirrored her own. The weight of his eyes had never felt so heavy on her, scanning and picking details as if it was the first time in a long while he had seen her, even if they saw each other every day for the past 10 years. She couldn't blame him though. For her, it was like seeing him for the first time as well.

Taking her by surprise, her heartbeat quickened and Bobby softened his grip on her. Yet, she didn't let go or dared to move away. She could feel his chest moving up and down, his breath just above hers, and the hesitation he also was full of. If someone was going to break their spell, it wouldn't be her. Not when she found herself wondering what he would do.

She could swear she felt him leaning towards her — or maybe it was her standing on her tiptoes — before they heard someone opening the door to the pool all at once. They snapped their heads in the direction of the sound at the same time, meeting River's mother leaning against the glass door.

"What are you two doing?" Magnolia asked, her blue silky robe sweeping the floor.

Even though the presence of her mother had just startled her, it was Bobby's voice that made it all very much real. 

"It was just…" she heard him saying too close to her. Her eyes immediately turned back to him at the same time he did. But as quickly as he looked down, he shot his amber eyes right back up, leaving River with her heart beating faster than ever before. "... just a stupid joke. We were just about to leave."

He took a step back slowly and she had the time to miss his always-warm skin before he turned and swam back to the ladder. She couldn't exactly pinpoint why but she suddenly felt hollow. 

"Yeah," she affirmed in a quiet voice, not sure of what had just happened.

She trailed the same path as him, back to the ground, with a handful of new things she had noticed about it, the knowledge that Bobby McKenzie was handsome and her heart on her throat.

[elipheleh]

i watched mary & george today and was blown away by it. i don’t tend to go for historical/period dramas and i tend to struggle to concentrate solely on a tv show, but i spent probably 80% of the time not using my phone (because it was so captivating) which is ridiculous given my normal which is like 25% max not on my phone. it was really very good.

spoiler thoughts under the cut, still processing my emotions tbh but it got q long

i would have liked to see more of the relationship between george & the king, it was - by all accounts - a very close relationship & the show presented it less in depth. i was really hoping “christ had john and i have george” would make it in, as well as some of their letters, but i guess it was focused too much on mary & george to fill that in. the relationship also seemed… weird? why did the king bite him like that?? other than occasional moments it didn’t feel like i was maybe expecting it to. i wasn’t expecting blatant love and affection but i was expecting some. it seemed mostly focused on the arguments.

i was surprised they went with george physically killing the king - while it is speculated he poisoned him, it was done through medication rather than so abruptly/violently. it made him much more… villainous, i suppose, determined to do anything to protect his position including killing the one he claimed to love, but it just… i didn’t really like that.

i saw someone saying about how george’s death was rushed and inconsequential and just of no real value & that was demonstrating how little impact his death really had - they had to hold his funeral at night because people loathed him so - & thought that was really interesting.

when george slept with carr only to say he just wanted him to think of that as he died… chills. they were both using sex to get the other to do something for them, the parallel between characters is beautiful there

the king’s heart scene… that was really special.

i loved that they showed george as loving katherine. i don’t know if he did in real life, but it was really nice that they had such a bond in this. she was very pragmatic and i think they were a great pairing.

very sad about sandie’s death. i hadn’t connected that it was bacon who’d ordered it until he said and it was very frustrating. so much backstabbing.

the… decapitation scene had me hiding from the screen only to be fooled and i had started looking again & they showed the decapitated head arghhh. unhappy about that. the hangings were.. not great but slightly better.

wasn’t expecting the second scene to be someone hung from a tree either which was an incredible shock.

cringed a lot at the dancing lol. i was glad that the ‘may i perform for you’ was about the instrument and not a dance. much less embarrassing.

i felt really bad for charles with the spanish bit. that was really frustrating and annoying.

kit rescuing george was my favourite thing. gross way to do so but the ‘how is he going to get out of this’ to “oh kit!!” was wonderful. george’s “are you sure we weren’t followed” in hindsight being ‘did you see kit’ was so clever. i think id have to watch it again to catch more nuances like that.

mary telling the attendants to leave her attached to george a little longer was soooo telling of their attachment, on mary’s behalf anyway.

the scene where george decides to go and join the french pair was really well done, his hesitation and then return when he decided to give in was so good. the being torn between what is “right” and what he wants.

love that they went back to the guy who was saying george would never get w the king & that he saw he’d managed it. really nice link there.

lastly (because im gonna keep going indefinitely otherwise) i really liked the lighting. the night scenes were accurately lit - firelight and candlelight - but you could still see what you needed to see, and it wasn’t just dark and dreary.

[construingseacats]

Umireread: Turn of the Golden Witch - Chapter 5: Guest of Honor  

Sat, Oct 4 1986 - 10:45AM

The following contains spoilers for the entirety of Umineko. Please do not read if you are yet to finish it.

I think there’s something to be said about how childlike wonder is torn away from us as we grow. The world is a wonderful place - there’s a fantastic tumblr post that makes the rounds occasionally about how something as mundane as going to a shopping mall can be an unending source of wonder, if you cast away the veneer of normality and complacency that usually clouds us when we go. Maria has been handed a cheap, mass-manufactured sweet that is utterly inconsequential to most people. And yet to her, in her fantasy - in the bliss of her youth - it is the greatest sort of treasure. And because she believes in that, it becomes her reality.

To talk about myself again for a second - with occasional exceptions, I tend to split up my working day by going out almost every time for lunch. Working in town centre, there’s no shortage of places to grab a sandwich or something slightly more exotic. Of course, this is an expensive vice; I argue that, as I don’t drink alcohol or smoke, this is an acceptable money sink that would be comparable to either of those. However, nonetheless, it is a money sink. I would save a fairly substantial amount of money by preparing my own lunches, or foregoing them entirely.

And yet… I hadn’t really thought about it until now, but reflecting on this scene in particular, there’s a sense of whimsy to it that hasn’t eluded me even as I approach 30. Perhaps it’s because eating out was a special treat when I was younger - growing up relatively poor, we could only really afford to treat ourselves to a restaurant once a month or so - but there’s a sense of joy and elation there that hasn’t been eroded by routine. It’s the wonder that you can feel by attending a shopping mall, but we choose not to. That’s something that I, personally, can’t put a price on. And I’d encourage anyone reading to also find their own way to obtain the greatest sort of treasure from the most regular of scenarios.

Eva Ushiromiya sees her chance to be a horrible person, and she takes it. Well, I suppose the entire family likes to deal with their own unresolved problems by taking it out on each other, at the end of the day.

Even if it’s only temporary, it’s nice seeing the adults being interested in Maria’s specific knowledge. Sure, maybe it’s insincere on their behalf, but to the kid who can’t distinguish the reality from the fantasy, that’s the absolute best feeling in the world. Being able to teach adults something that even they didn’t know feels great.

Criminy, Episode 2 is not letting up on this. I suppose that’s to be expected from the “Rosa” Episode, but still.

Rosa trampling on the hearts of everyone reading this Episode, old and new.

Hilarious subversion of the rose incident from Episode 1. Does it still count as dramatic irony if you’re lying about the truth by saying what happened in the previous game? I think it’s also worth highlighting this moment as another notch for suggesting that you should always be wary of what people say if it hasn’t been witnessed personally - we know that Rosa’s not telling the truth here, so what other falsehoods have we been fed thus far?

News just in: resident tragedy enjoyer loves how sad this scene is, and how much it hurts. More at 11.

Very funny moment where Kanon goes “wait a second, I know how I can fix this for you.”

I’m constantly amused by how much Nanjo just doesn’t want to be in this novel at all. Does not enjoy going along with the family’s nonsense, doesn’t want to talk to any of them, does not want to get involved with the murders. I know Gohda is a community favourite for not really having anything important to contribute to the story, but I’m kind of digging Nanjo for similar reasons.

“Worthless” male pride, you say? Interesting commentary.

It’s almost like the people you surround yourself with could cause you to perceive the sky as grey instead of blue.

I don’t have an awful lot to add to these Maria-Rosa moments, but I can’t not acknowledge them. It’d be a crime to skim over such potent writing, even if there’s little for me to add that I haven’t said already.

An island detached from common sense and reality, you say? Sounds like the perfect setting for a new generation of fanfiction.

I don’t necessarily think this is a “with hindsight” moment because it’s still fairly clear what is going on here - you tell a child to close their eyes and then swap out the candy while they’re not looking. One of the oldest tricks in the book. What I do find interesting is how this parallels the final choice in Episode 8 - how do you approach this scene? Is this just a trick, because of course it is, or is this magic? Whatever you choose here, will you still hold the same opinion 6 episodes from now?

Obviously, this scene is noteworthy since you can read Rosa’s reactions as being uncomfortable with the blackmail forced upon her (using the term blackmail tenuously since she could arguably have been bought out without much threatening). But, with that in mind, I wonder when exactly she was roped into this? The adults at the guest house did say that she had been gone for quite a long time - we just assumed this was due to her being stuck with Maria, but did she actually visit the secret room with Yasu during this time?

I’m sure she knows the inside of the mansion better than anyone.

The scene where Yasu as Beatrice meets Kyrie is really good, and I kind of wish we saw more of this in Umineko? I love the fantasy scenes a lot, but when you’re being presented with partial truths (that lean closer to fact than fiction) that are only slightly adorned with fantasy, they’re a lot more interesting to read than the ones that are drenched in outright fabrications.

Also, Yasu was born 30 years too early, she’d have made an absolute killing as an online voice actor with the way she can go between all these different personas without being found out.

Hey! New portrait!

One day I’ll be joining the hordes of Umineko fans by getting a giant framed picture of Beatrice for my house. I was kind of hoping that they would have been offered as rewards from the Umineko Gold Kickstarter… But we all know how that’s gone.

And so the reunion with Kinzo is delayed because he locked himself up in an anti-magic bunker. Of course, what we’re probably seeing here is Yasu considering the study as a base of operations, before realising that could cause some complications given Kinzo has been the opposite of alive for quite some time, and deciding to set up in the guest room instead where she doesn’t need to worry about dealing with matters arising from Krauss/Natsuhi/Jessica’s additional knowledge regarding Kinzo’s current status.

End of chapter! I kind of wish we had a meta section here for the moment when Beatrice’s piece arrived on the gameboard? It feels odd that Battler wouldn’t immediately jump on that with a “hey wait a second”. Alas!

[showfallmediacameracrew]

Don’t they erase their memories? He probably doesn’t remember last time and it’s practically inconsequential, otherwise more cast probably would have figured something out. Though you do have the advantage of his impressive muscles. Have you seen those things?

While it is true that they're memories are erased, I believe it doesnt quite work as well on those not constantly wearing masks. Sneeg kept escaping, even though he was under Showfall control, he still retained and refused to do what he was told when not freshly calmed. A few of the others also were not following the personality type as correctly as they could. You saw the recordings, otherwise you wouldnt be interacting with me, so I dont need to point you to who specifically I refer to.

Part of the reason the streamers and cast dont figure things out is occasional reapplications of mind control. And also the streamers headphones keep them under unless removed rather forcefully. These people dont get to have their headphones off long enough to notice that everything beyond their room and computers are wrong.

Also, Charlie did remember vaguely that things happened to him when he was with Ranboo, I dont think he was actually intended to use the body armor, but it hardly changed much. He might not remember it all, but I hope he would have some vague recollection. At least enough to remember that he's had this happen before, and that...

I'm going to have to explain that Ranboo is dead, if he remembers and asks me about him. Shit.

Also, yes, I have seen his muscles. Though I don't believe I appreciate them as much as you do. I remember that I am asexual aromantic, what a wonderful gift to be given that memory back on this month. However temporary Showfall seems to make it.

Regardless, while he may be strong, I dont intend to throw him at Security or another such monster and expect him to succeed this time. We need better than an Axe.

[anhed-nia]

And now that I've been positive about something that didn't demand it, I'm gonna be MEAN for no reason just to restore balance to the universe. I fucking hate this movie. Never has a tagline been so accurate. TRICK OR TREATS is one of these things that has remained in circulation long enough for me to wonder, like, do people LIKE this, and there's just something good about it that I don't get? Or is it just anomalous that it's still available enough to be on Shudder 40 years after its accursed birth? I'm not just irked that it's "bad", which it is, but because I have no idea what the fucking point of it is supposed to be. What form of pleasure am I supposed to receive from it? This is a movie that's loaded with sluts and blowjob jokes, but it's completely devoid of graphic nudity or violence or even proper swearing. You might point out that it's more of a comedy, as horror-comedies go, but it's also not at all funny. It features a (not scary) escaped homicidal lunatic, but most of that plays out as a long gag about how, if a big ugly dude puts on a frumpy dress and a stuffed bra, absolutely no one can tell the difference and randos will start trying to fuck him immediately. Ha Ha Ha. It's a movie that seems to be aimed at horror buffs, but the "special effects" basically amount to Halloween decorations and cheap prefab magic tricks for children, which gives you that suspicious feeling that the filmmakers actually kind of hate horror movies and think that you can put any stupid thing in front of a genre fan and get their unqualified, brain dead approval.

Also like, maybe this is a personal thing, but I'd say MOST pranks are pretty unfunny, and movies that prominently feature pranksters are almost unbearable. If you're going to anchor your movie to the idea of tricks and pranks, it really better be as outrageous as the setup of TERROR TRAIN (a movie that also isn't very good, but at least there was an idea in there somewhere); you really cannot ask me to pay rapt attention to, for instance, an endless scene of a snot-nosed brat duping his babysitter into thinking there's somebody at the door. Oh wow, the little boy uses a string to pull on the door knocker, oh boy, the babysitter answers the door, oh no, there's no one there. Lather, rinse, repeat. Ha Ha Ha. By the way, why is this frustrated woman running around in like a Joan Collins type of nightgown while she's both managing this unruly child and having to answer the door for trick-or-treaters every ten minutes? Who fucking knows. How much time can we kill by putting the babysitter on the phone with her inconsequential boyfriend so he can report in about his awful-sounding Shakespeare performance? You'll find out if you watch this piece of shit! (FYI the occasional appearance of cult favorite actors only makes you wish you were watching something better)

There's a lot more to be perplexed about behind the scenes, like the fact that the writer-director-etc also shot movies for Orson Welles, and great horror movies like THE TOOLBOX MURDERS (where's the horror in this movie?), and also a huge amount of porn (where's the damn sex appeal in this movie?). I vaguely worry that TRICK OR TREATS was just made as a simple excuse to create a starring role for the filmmaker's young son, which makes it seem innocent and like something I shouldn't spend so much energy bagging on, but it's just so un-fun, and vaguely insulting, that it's hard for me to just turn a blind eye. AND ANOTHER THING I really hate that the title is pluralized. You can DO trick-or-treating, you can BE a trick-or-treater, but there's no such thing as "trick or treats". It reminds me of when I watched NOTTING HILL a couple years ago (*John Waters voice* What was I thinking about?) and among other sticking points, I could not get over Hugh Grant repeatedly saying "whoopsies-daisies". I mean. What the fuck, guy? Why are you, an adult, saying that, but also it's NOT PLURAL. It's just "whoopsy-daisy"; sure, you'll find a few variations in an idiomatic dictionary, but not one that pluralizes both words. "Whoopsies-daisies" isn't even easy to say. How the fuck did you come up with that? I think I've finally drained my poison gland for this morning, so to leave on a bright note, here's my favorite part of NOTTING HILL. Just Hugh Grant's roommate's implausible shirt. I kinda want one.

PS I posted that NOTTING HILL review on Facebook a few years ago, because I thought it was fun and like one of the more publicly acceptable/accessible things I'd written, and indeed, a bunch of people found it pretty funny. But then within a day or so, I had to go to a friend-of-a-friend's birthday party where I was quietly informed that I was nearly dis-invited because it was the adult birthday girl's favorite movie and she just, like, didn't want to see my face after she found out what I had to say. So, never let it be said that my opinions are not powerful and of consequence for others!