#maybe im an outlier so i want to know how others say it

[naphiatra]

Just out of curiosity,

[itsukicoded]

.

[deadeyedfae]

Human HRT: The End.

So let me start this post off by saying, this is the canon ending to my HRT series, but its not canon to any of the others.

Truth be told my series has always been an outlier, especially since I'm a very new artist, tbh im lucky to have had the lil cameons i did have in the main story! (still shocked i got featured in Kaylas, Goldies and Nyxis') But when eveyone else is doing Therian HRT and your doing Human HRT, its kinda hard to make it that intersting, especially since we all know what its like to be human.

The transformation itself was never really the goal with this story, i just wanted to have some fun with my friends and i certainly did that!

In my timeline a bunch of us live togther somewhere safe into our old age. Where we reminisce about the past and continue making memories togther and hell i highly doubt anyone else would take thier stories that way, but to me that's the ending i wanted. Its much better than the orginal ending where it was just a lonely old Fae looking back at photos of her long gone friends.

So what was any of this about? Tbh i just wanted to show how much my friends mean to me and ended it in a way where we all have a future togther. (Special shout out to @bubbleverseart by the way who helped with the lighting ^^ as well as the usual suspects) Lifting eachother up and looking after eachother in this world. Its been fun and who knows, maybe as my actual HRT journey continues I'll do something more with this in retrospect. But for now this is the definitive end of Human HRT

Thanks for sticking with it 💜

Fae

[yuellii]

🪼 HI USER YUELLII OMG I LUV JEALOUSY TROPES MAYBE THAT SAYS... SOMETHING ABOUT MY CHARACTER BUT I LOVEEEE JEALOUSY TROPES. AND WITH NEUVILETTE????? SOEMONE WHO PRIABBLY DOESNT EXPERIENCE JEALOUSY OFTEN IF AT ALL???? im sold. IM SOLD. PULLING OUT MY CREDIT CARD. IWOULD LITERALLY KILL TO READ UR THOUGHTS ON IT

The Four Stages of Jealousy : THE IUDEX.

STAGE I. — Identification.

There is a threat, that a person may feel losing someone to someone better than them. "I want what you have, and I hate that you have what I want."

Neuvillette wasn’t quite sure of the sudden twist in his stomach as he stood at your doorstep, a bag of pastries tucked under one of his arms and a box of tea bags carried under his other.

Saturdays, three o’clock sharp in the afternoon held meaning: A time in which he’d arrive at your boutique, treats in hand and a pleasant look on his face. He’d try on one of your hats, maybe, for it was a prime time for tea, taken advantage of by the two of you, alone together every Saturday afternoon. It was an evening of the week where he was most happiest, though that might’ve been only an assumption. But the tranquility he usually felt standing at your doorstep was never one he could ignore.

Unfortunately, said tranquility seemed to be lacking this time around.

What he expected as another nice time alone with you ( especially since it was on your undocumented schedule—but who cared for documents, when he looked forward to this meeting every week? ) was instead being interrupted by a certain someone. Namely, a certain Champion Duelist. And maybe, Neuvillette would not be so bothered, had she not been sitting in his seat.

( Said seat was also unspoken, or ‘undocumented’ between the two of you, but still. He sat there every week—therefore by repeated pattern alone, that antique chair in front of the table should be his. )

( And sure, this might’ve been your boutique’s seating area, where everyone comes to sit during the day; But on Saturdays during tea time, he’d like to think that seat was practically reserved for him. )

“Neuvillette!” you practically gasped, facial expression turning into one of lightened excitement at seeing him. There was a blissful ignorance in your voice—‘ignorant’ in the way he was truly glad you didn’t know he was mentally annoyed at the mere fact his seat was taken. But nevertheless, the tightrope of his heart fluttered at the sound of your voice, which always sounded so enthusiastic every week he came back here. Perhaps you were just excited to see him as much as he was excited to see you—the thought alone brings a shiver to his spine.

He approaches forward with a polite smile of his own when you pat the empty spot adjacent to you on the loveseat. Ah, so the theft of his usual antique chair leaves him to sit beside you. Maybe the uninvited guest was welcomed, now that he thought about it.

“What brings Miss Clorinde with us today?” he finally asked, addressing the most obvious outlier first. When he set the bag of pastries down on the table, he watched as the Duelist eyed it with interest.

Clorinde hummed. “I was here for a small chat, then I was told that Monsieur Neuvillette would be ‘arriving soon’. And here you are.” At the recount of events, Neuvillette noticed how Clorinde threw a playful look at you. This playfulness did not stop, unfortunately for him, when she leaned forward to peek at the paper bag he brought in. “Then I stayed, because I thought: ‘What could the Chief Justice possibly say that’s interesting enough for weekly conversations?’”

You gasped at her teasing insult. “Clorinde!” you scolded with slight laughter. “Monsieur Neuvillette is a great companion for tea conversations! He’s very interesting, indeed, I promise you!”

“Thank you,” Neuvillette coughed through his words. He’s beginning to feel a bit awkward here…

“Oh?” Clorinde piped up again, just before Neuvillette could even get another word out. “There’s a lot of pastries in here, and also a new box of tea?”

“He brings them for us to share every week!” you exclaimed happily, grabbing the bag off the table and kindly distributing a treat to everyone. And that’s when suddenly, Neuvillette wishes he only bought one for the two of you, because he watches as you set down the pieces of Conch Madeleines in front of the Champion Duelist, despite Neuvillette knowing those were your favorites. Meanwhile, instead, you gave him and yourself the remaining other pastries. But surely, you wouldn’t just give up your favorites like that… Unless you favored Clorinde. Ah, but maybe he was overthinking it. “Isn’t he the sweetest?”

Clorinde sends him a casual smirk, likely to tease him. “Sweetest, certainly.”

He wasn’t sure how to respond to any of this at all.

When he eventually had to leave, Clorinde still stayed there to chat with you, and he felt empty walking out of your boutique. Emptier than usual, actually. It was certainly confusing, due to the fact nothing inherently bad happened, and he certainly didn’t want to say Clorinde’s presence bothered him, or anything over-the-top like that.

Hm.

Neuvillette didn’t get to talk to you as much as he wanted to today.

STAGE II. — Confrontative.

Where negative thoughts start to bloom as "envy." Jealousy begins to indicate love for the person, and the individual is afraid of losing that object of their love.

It’s the following Saturday when he sees you again, and he can’t quite understand why he feels an air of relief upon seeing that Clorinde is not there today.

“Neuvillette!” You greet him with the same smile and same excitement as always, and the rush of paradise courses through his body before he sits across from you in his usual seat: the antique chair right in front of you. He sets down his paper bag of fresh pastries; And upon doing so, he can’t help but smile when he noticed there are only two teacups on the table. One for you, and one for himself. “You seem a little more delighted today”—Was it that obvious?—“What’s gotten you into a good mood, Monsieur?”

He hummed. “Nothing, really.” He actually wasn’t quite sure why he was feeling so joyous today, either, but as long as you were sitting there still smiling at him, then it would all be alright. “It’s just natural, since it’s always my pleasure to spend my Saturday afternoons with you.”

Bring your hand up to cover your mouth, you lightly gasped at his words. “Oh, Monsieur!” you giggled. “I hadn’t known you could be a charmer with your words!”

He liked the reaction you gave him. He thinks he liked the feeling of approval you gave him, but even more. Neuvillette learned rather gradually that you always tended to get a happy sort-of embarrassment from his ‘compliments’. Said ‘compliments’, however, referred to mere truthful facts he’s laid for you. But there’s a certain loveliness that comes with confiding in someone to tell all your truths to, and he’s more than elated that you’re the one he trusts to blabber endlessly to. He just hopes it can stay like this for a long time: Just the two of you, enjoying your Saturday afternoon tea.

“So,” Neuvillette began, watching as you took a bite of the Conch Madeleine he bought specifically for you. He had to catch himself from smiling at you—if his duty was to buy your favorite treat every week, then so be it. “How has your week been since I last saw you?”

Your hand once again flies up to cover your mouth as you quickly finish to chew and swallow the bite before answering him. “It’s been fun, actually! I saw a concert performed by a famous violinist—I believe I might’ve even spotted you in the front row…”

“Ah, yes, that would’ve been me. It was a spectacular performance; I’m happy to know you saw it,” he smiled. Hm, if he knew you were there that night, he certainly would’ve said hello. Your hand moves upwards once more to bring your teacup closer to your lips, and now he’s curious to ask: “And that ring of yours—that’s new, when did you get it?”

“Oh!” After setting the teacup down, you quickly leaned forwards, outstretching your right arm to show off the ring to him at a closer view. “I just got it yesterday, actually. Isn’t it beautiful?”

“It is.” It really dazzles to compliment your eyes. Neuvillette catches himself thinking of little things he’s never thought before. Like the way your hair frames your face perfectly, especially at this angle. Or the way your eyes held this delicate shine he admired so dearly, only now heightened by the sparkle of the ring’s reflection. There’s a new tide of poetry unspoken in the depths of his mind, and they might as well stay locked until he figures out just what this emotion is.

When you offer your hand for him to get a closer inspection of the ring is when his breath seems almost stolen from his lungs. Months and months of these weekly tea meetings, and yet he feels this is the closest proximity he’s ever been to you. Here, in his antique chair in the middle of your boutique shop, holding your hand from across the table.

But he feels a spark that he prays you sense as well, for the mere desire of wanting this moment to last forever is enough to tell him that he is completely in love with you.

He leans down gently to reach closer to your hand, kissing your knuckle so featherlight next to the ring. “And it’s even more beautiful on you,” he mutters to you when he pulls away.

Your heart might’ve skipped a beat when you retracted your hand, but he has no idea—he was too lovestruck just now to even think properly. But you take just a moment to recover whilst he’s still stuck in his little daze; Though, who could blame him when he just discovered the ethereal feeling of falling in love?

“Thank you,” you exhaled with a smile that seemed a little breathless. “Lady Clorinde helped pick it, actually.”

…What?

Well, that was a name he completely forgotten until just now. He cleared his throat, attempting to regain his composure after the sudden whiplash of emotions. From finding out he’s in love, to the pang of unwarranted negativity for the Champion Duelist. As expected, he couldn’t tell what this uncomfortable feeling was, but he certainly did not like it.

“Clorinde was there, you say?” he tried to clarify.

You nodded. A little too happily for his liking. “We went out shopping yesterday.” Oh. “And she said this ring really matched ‘the colors of my personality’, whatever that means!” you wholeheartedly laughed. The way you spoke of her, with all this smiling and all these giggles, was making him crave for something more. Did… Did you perhaps want to see him more outside of these tea times, too? You seem perfectly fine shopping with Clorinde now, after all.

He’s never gotten personal time with you like that. It’s always been solely Saturday afternoons, nothing more. And yet, Clorinde immediately gets invited to your shopping runs, and apparently her opinion is also important enough to make you buy the ring? How unbelievable. Neuvillette bets if he was there instead, he’d buy you every piece of jewelry that you even took so much as slight interest in, because that was what you deserved. But no, here he was, not invited to these outings at all, and further stuck wallowing as your mere ‘tea companion’, and not something more.

The door to the boutique suddenly opens, and the both of you turn your heads to the customer.

But instead of a client, you were met with the face of a slightly-smiling Clorinde, ever so amused to see the both of you here again. Well, she shouldn’t be amused. Neuvillette was here on schedule.

“Ah, you’re here!” you say excitedly, briskly standing up to grab another set of tea; And now, Neuvillette can’t quite tell if you greet everyone at the door with this same excitement, and it’s not just restricted to him alone. He shouldn’t be that selfish, of course, so he thinks perhaps it should just not be directed at Clorinde, specifically.

“Pardon me,” Clorinde announced, making her way to the table after you set the tea display down. “I’ll be intruding on the both of you again.” Neuvillette wishes he had any right to refuse.

This time, now that he’s regained his rightful spot on the antique chair, Clorinde had no choice but to sit… right next to you on the loveseat—the same place Neuvillette sat last week when his spot was stolen. A moment comes forth where he now no longer wants his seat at all ( which he doesn’t understand why, because shouldn’t he be happy his unspoken designated seat is back? ), and prefers the loveseat.

Maybe it was the sight of Clorinde next to you, and the fact she was sitting so much closer than he’d like to imagine. And suddenly, that’s when he realizes he doesn’t like the idea of Clorinde being this close to you at all.

“Oh! You’re wearing the ring I got you!” Clorinde recognizes. She grabbed your right hand to immediately inspect it, and Neuvillette can’t help but feel like someone just shot him. Not only did she comfortably grab your hand like it was nothing ( meanwhile, he had to find both the confidence and the breath to even try to kiss your hand earlier ), but she also got it for you? The little detail you never mentioned: That Clorinde bought you the ring.

Now Neuvillette is internally questioning what exactly this ring means. Is it akin to a proposal? A vow? A promise ring for the future?

The longer he stays here the more insane he may be driven, he thinks.

“Sorry to cut my time here short, but I think I have to get going,” he spoke up. Both Clorinde and you looked over at him, and he figured this was a good idea—he doesn’t think he can handle another tea session where the two of you are happily talking as he sits there awkwardly quiet. “I’ll be off, now.”

“Already?” you frowned at him, and that expression almost makes him want to stay. But the sight of Clorinde still absentmindedly toying with your hand sends him into a spiral of emotions he needs to sort out. He’s already stood up to leave without realizing it.

“Unfortunately so,” he says. He might’ve sounded colder than he meant to. It was clear in your face you knew something was wrong, but didn’t want to say it out of privacy. But when he walked towards the door, hearing Clorinde continue your conversation on like normal, it was fruitless to even consider it.

He opened the door. It was raining.

It feels like he was losing your love before he could even have it.

STAGE III. — Redirecting.

Where pleasure is derived from hurting others, stemmed from unconscious feelings of envy. The envy can come in a so-called as a form of competitive implication.

The next time he saw you was around the market area in the morning, wandering the streets like a normal citizen on this wavering Wednesday.

Normally, he would have just smiled and waved at most, but this time, something compelled him to walk up and join you. “Is this where to find you on Wednesday mornings?” he asked curiously, catching your starling attention and watching as your lips curved to a smile when you recognized him.

“It is, Monsieur.” When you stepped ever-so closer to him, a mere basket around your arm being the only thing between you, he felt as if his feet had turned into bubbles, and there was a flutter of heaven around his shoulders. “My weekly groceries are scheduled for today, however I don’t recall ever seeing you on this side of the city, if that isn’t just my ignorance.”

He chuckled, “I’m usually at my office by this time, so you would be correct.” Then his arm slid against yours, taking the wooden basket out of your hands and walking a few steps forward down the market street you shopped at. “But I’m open to a change of pace, so might I join you on this lovely morning?”

The little smile of contentment you gave him when you answered “Of course” made his heart skip a beat. And when you walked forward to hook your arm around his free one, he swears to the sovereign he might simply dissolve right then and there. The closeness of your presence to him now makes his heart race in a way he feels it drumming in his chest, a feeling that is so human that it makes him almost taste the fruit of mortality. You, walking along with him as you hold onto his arm whilst he carries your grocery basket—you look like romantic partners, and he can’t help but feel sort of lightheaded at the mere thought of that.

“Ah, look!” you pointed, and Neuvillette allowed himself to be guided by the arm to a nearby vendor. “They’re selling slices of apricot pie.”

“You fancy these desserts as well?” he mused, already fishing his pockets for his wallet. “Perhaps we should purchase a slice or two and save them for our weekend tea session.”

You agreed, “I thought the same.” Then you noticed his shuffling and playfully waved off his hand, insisting he needn’t pay. “But I fear it might spoil by the time Saturday comes.”

“You want a bite of mine?” And that’s when Neuvillette wasn’t even surprised anymore to hear the voice of the Champion Duelist appearing out of nowhere. He has such horrible luck running into her, that he’s now just accepted it at this point ( or, for better words: he still has yet to accept the fact that maybe Clorinde was specifically seeking you ). She stood there, leaned against a pole with an easy-going expression and a fork in one of her hands, carrying an aluminum tin with the exact same apricot pie you were just eyeing.

You gasp at her appearance, “Sure!” Neuvillette doesn’t even have a moment to process the mere seconds it takes for you to slip away from his arm, leaving him to follow behind as you skip over to Clorinde. The uninvited guest takes it upon herself to feed you a bite with her fork—it was at this time that the Iudex began to feel like an outlier once again.

“We were actually about to buy a few slices ourselves,” Neuvillette piped in. He did it quickly, perhaps it was instinct so he wouldn’t be left out of the conversation again. “But an excellent point was brought up, that the dessert might spoil by the time we reach Saturday afternoon.”

“Why don’t you just buy one and eat it now?” Clorinde shrugged. Ah. Neuvillette internally scolded himself; He should’ve thought of that. And when you waved off her suggestion dismissively, claiming it was fine now that she let you try it, Neuvillette realized he completely missed an opportunity to have dessert with you on a Wednesday instead of a Saturday. That while he was still a man you only saw once at the end of each week, you’d be seeing Clorinde multiple times throughout it.

He wasn’t fond of the way Clorinde was still feeding you more bites of pie, either.

“Miss Clorinde,” he addressed. If only he had more of a grasp of human sociability, then he might’ve realized how firm his voice sounded in this situation that was… not so serious. “Shouldn’t you be alongside Furina at this time of day?”

“On a typical day, yes,” she answered simply. “And shouldn’t you be in your office?”

He almost glared. “No, actually, I’ve given myself the time to roam around today.”

“Oh wowww,” she teased, though Neuvillette might’ve heard it as something mocking. “Lady Furina would be pleased to hear that. Instead of being cooped up in your office or the Opera Epiclese all morning long, you’re out here at the market, even holding a basket for shopping.”

The Iudex cleared his throat. “Well, I’ll have you know that this basket isn’t mine.” There was an air of competitiveness in his voice, one that almost had him biting his tongue in surprise of himself. Because it was simply just as he said: a basket. But the fact it belonged to you, and the fact that he was carrying it for you—suddenly he wanted to boast it and show it off to the world, especially to Clorinde’s face. “The two of us are shopping together this morning, if you’ll excuse us.” His next move might’ve been bold, but the feeling of possessiveness was so airtight and he had no choice but to hook his own arm around yours once more, getting ready to turn and leave.

“So cold,” Clorinde rolled her eyes. ‘Cold’ was a word often used to describe him, but no, not here. He did not want to appear that way in front of you. “Is this really the attitude you want to spend all morning with?” she asked, this time directed at you.

Something in him snapped. There was an emotion that clouded his head far angrier than annoyance, and it sprouted from the way in which she made him look bad, like the stone-cold Chief Justice everyone thought him to be. Albeit with you, he was trying to be everything but that. Emotional, vulnerable, heartfelt, human—Clorinde was not going to take that away from him.

‘Is this really the attitude you want to spend all morning with?’ The question kept playing in his mind, as if she was any better than him? She, who most people also saw as stoic, should not be seen by you in a better light than him. She, who did not know your favorite desserts like he did, who did not make time for you like he did, who did not fancy you as much as he did—

He felt you tug at his arm, snapping him from his thoughts.

Your eyes held the same, worried look you gave him on Saturday when he left so abruptly. So jealously.

Neuvillette cleared his throat once more. “It seems you are correct, Miss Clorinde.” There was solemness in his voice. Yet he was so quiet as he unlocked his arm from around yours, and handed your basket to Clorinde. “My attitude proves to be too unfavorable for the likes of this lovely morning, I thank you for bringing it to my attention.” These emotions were too much right now; he was starting to fear them. “My deepest apologies to you both, I’ll be heading back to the Palais Mermonia now.”

He bowed his head as diplomatically as he could manage, but the skies were already darkening.

“I bid you both a fine rest of your morning.”

“Wait, Neuvillette!”

Your call was drowned by the deafening drums of his hammering heartbeat, and the patters of light rainfall from the somber sky.

STAGE IV. — Medea.

At this stage, the grip of envy appears almost irreversible. There is a hatred towards others that dominates their thinking, and happiness or success is no longer foreseen.

Saturday afternoon.

He couldn’t see you again, even if it was time for your weekly meeting, not when he was feeling like this.

Not when the sky was pouring from the mere thought of you, and how he’s probably already lost. It was inevitable for a man like him, and he should’ve realized so earlier. Three o’clock, and you were already probably sipping away with Clorinde at your side, pastries on the table and a dazzling ring on your finger. She was much more human than him, after all, and such a shortcoming became his eventual downfall.

The Palais Mermonia was quiet, though that might’ve been due to the endless rain that’s been pouring since Wednesday morning.

While it was nice, he couldn’t help but feel the silence only amplified his feeling of loneliness in this moment. Especially at this time: a time of the week in which he looked most forward to.

“Monsieur Neuvillette?” a Melusine knocked from right outside his door. “You have a visitor!”

And before he could even reply, that was when you ignored all formalities, all proper respect as you pushed your way through the door and into his office. The surge of panic he felt from your sudden presence was unrivaled to the way you made haste in getting seated in front of his office table, setting down your handful—said handful consisting of two teacups, and a bag of pastries.

His heart practically shattered. The familiar cups and bag of treats on the table, the way your hair and clothes were lightly damp from the rain—you made the effort, coming all the way here just to see him. Just so the both of you wouldn’t miss a single Saturday afternoon together.

“I believe you might’ve forgotten our schedule, good Monsieur.” A light scolding, yet partnered with the most comforting smile you’ve ever given him, and he starts to feel his hands tremble. “You seem surprised to see me,” you commented further, filling in the silence as he has yet to utter even a word. “Did you really think I’d just let you ditch me like that?”

It was hard to breathe, hard to find his voice when you were so patient with him. “Sorry.” It’s all he can mutter now, this blistering swell of emotions causing a waver in his voice. “I’m so, very sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you chuckled at him. His body tensed when you reached forward to grab one of his hands. But you felt cold just like the chilling rain outdoors, and now he worries you might catch a fever because of him. “I’ve been meaning to ask you what was wrong, but…” Your eyes drooped with a certain sorrow in their crevices, and Neuvillette found himself slightly squeezing your hands. “I couldn’t seem to find a good moment alone with you.”

He shook his head at you, whispering, “I don’t even know what’s wrong, myself…”

You frowned. This atmosphere was suffocating and just from one glance upwards at your face, Neuvillette could easily tell you were holding back something to say. Granted, it was his fault. He’s the one who’s here, sitting and sulking in his office with little to no explanation. He’s the one who’s kept you worried this past week from leaving so abruptly two different times now. If anything, he might understand how to be a human even less after this ordeal.

“Would you be so kind…” he starts, words like lumps in his throat, “to allow me to be honest? To let me ramble whatever nonsense I’m feeling for just a moment, so that maybe you can make some sense of it all?”

You gave his hands a comforting squeeze. “Of course.”

There’s a certain phrase caught dead in his tongue. And he’s never been afraid to speak his mind before, yet suddenly, your judgment of his feelings mattered much more than the truth of his words. But he was feeling so much, and if this was really the emotional baggage humans had to carry all the time, he could only wonder how most people have yet to burst from the hauntings of their own mind.

Or more accurately so—the hauntings of their own love.

These words were doomed to come spilling out. “You’ve bewildered me with mountains of emotions,” he rambles quicker than he thinks. “All from the sleight of your hand, I best believe I’ve fallen in love with you.”

He forces himself to ignore how your eyes widen in that moment, or how the grip from your hands suddenly loosens from the shock that rings through his confession. He doesn’t have a way with words, and he knows this. So in a hasty attempt to piece together a board of emotional exposure his mind cannot even comprehend, he does the only thing he knows how to: talk and talk, until he has no more truth to confess to you.

“But the feelings that came alongside my love,” he began to you, “are unexplainable.” As his voice ended in coarseness, there was such an hopeless look of utter confusion you had never seen on his face before, like he was silently pleading for you to help a poor soul like his own. “The beating of my heart when I see you… A stark contrast to the tightness in my stomach I feel… When Miss Clorinde joins us.” The ending of his sentence dropped to nearly a whisper, like he expected it to be sin. “But what I just don’t understand, is why,” the section of his brows furrow in distress, “because she’s my coworker, and I do not dislike her, but I feel as if I cannot stand her when she joins us…”

You listen quietly. He doesn’t know whether to be thankful or fearful whilst awaiting your reaction.

He continued, “But when she sat with us for tea, and bought you that ring, and joined us at the market…” This confession; It was arguably harder than confessing his love to you. Because Clorinde was your friend—maybe even closer, if he was so unlucky—and he might’ve crossed a line here he didn’t even know existed. “I felt like I hated her,” he finished.

You were still silent, though it wasn’t like he could see your expression anyways. He refused to even look up to it, choosing instead to stare down at your joined hands.

But this silence was deafening. Please, just reject him already. He let out the most exhausted sigh he has ever before, the weight of these human emotions bearing down on him. “So I was just…”

“Just jealous,” you finished for him, and he noticed in your voice how you were almost laughing quietly to yourself. The emotion you just named—he didn’t know how envy even felt like, much less jealousy ( though, he supposes he knows now ). “Neuvillette, you should’ve just told me you felt uncomfortable with Clorinde there.”

“Hm?” He was confused. So confused, that his eyes finally darted up to meet your own. And there you stood, most comforting of smiles on your face as your thumb began to trace patterns on the back of his hand.

You reassured him, “Those are times we spend together, dedicated to the both of our comforts.” Which was true, but he was ready to argue that he felt selfish that way—and that you wouldn’t love nor deserve a selfish man. “I trust you to tell me when you feel things are unfavorable,” you continued, “and I promise you, Clorinde would understand if I told her.”

“But,” he piped up, so much doubt in his eyes as if struggling to believe your words, “is she not important to you?” And now, he could not comprehend the bashfulness that raised blood to his cheeks, or the complete disbelief that you’d wave off the Champion Duelist just because of his silly discomfort. Human relationships; He feared he may never understand them.

“Of course she’s important to me—she’s my friend!” you lightly laughed. “But you’re important to me, as well. Please understand that.” His heart might’ve stopped for just a moment. “And when we have our scheduled times alone together, the last thing I want to have is you feeling uneasy when we’re supposed to be relaxing.” Your words, the kindness you shed—it was all so confusing yet so welcoming at the same time, that he feels it’s only a matter of seconds until he drowns from the sound of your voice. To feel such comfort in a person was bizarre to him, but it’s a feeling that makes him crave your presence all the same.

His eyes fell to another slight frown, voice quieter as if losing the will to argue. “But… I should not have the right to impede on a relationship significant to you…”

Now it was your turn to look baffled. The way he worded it. Oh, surely he didn’t— “Monsieur, do you think Clorinde and I are a couple?”

“Well, I certainly thought you two were getting to that state in your relationship,” Neuvillette answered truthfully, voice flowing without hesitation as if it was the most obvious fact in the world. The man who just confessed his love for you only moments ago was fully convinced you felt romance for another woman. “Hence why I was…” He turned his head to the side, shyly clearing his throat. “Envious…”

You practically burst out into giggles. In fact, one of your hands even let go of his grip just so you could cover your mouth to laugh. “Oh… Oh, Neuvillette, surely you jest!” you attempted to name whilst controlling your laughter. The Iudex was shell-shocked into pure silence, wondering what he could’ve possibly said to make you react this way, because as far as he knew, he was not making a joke. “Clorinde is only a friend to me,” you clarified. “Nothing more.”

He remains silent, but there’s a sweeping wave of new emotions that suddenly flood his shoulders.

“And if she sees me as anything more, then, well,” you continued, glancing up outside and then back down to meet his awaiting eyes. “Unfortunately for her, the love in my heart has already been captured by another.”

“By whom?” The lack of hesitation from his immediate question has more giggles escaping your lips. He looks at you, and your face tells him it’s an obvious question with an obvious answer, and yet he still cannot comprehend this even when you squeeze both his hands in yours once more.

“Who do you think, Monsieur?” And yet even after his face flushes red, he still has a focused look of anticipation on his face—it’s as if he absolutely will not believe it until you spell it directly to his face. “Neuvillette,” you sighed, but there was an air of gentleness in the way you say his name that relaxed his soul. “It’s always been you.”

The rain continued on.

But now the sun shined between each droplet, because if he could cry from happiness right now, he was sure you’d already be busy wiping his tears away. And this sunny rain continued on and on, even as he poured you tea, even when he bit into the pastries you bought, and even when he looked at you fondly across his desk, not a single doubt of your love.

And as for Clorinde, well, he might need a few more days to recover before he can forgive her for all the sporadic heart attacks she’s almost given him.

[virgincels]

SCHADENFREUDE !

ft. leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. p in v, kidnapper/victim relationship, stockholm syndrome, he puts u in the trunk of his car :3, sorta painal, squirting, slapping/hitting a lot.. of it, not non-con or dub-con but he keeps calling it that idk, painful sex, suicide mention cuz it’s leonnnn, sadism

note. haiii a follow up to rotten luck title has nothing to do w the fic i think :3 his character changes like every 5 mins im sorry .. readers character changed a lot too omg just blame it on stockholm! umm sorry for any mistakes please ignore them :3 rbs and feedback so appreciated :3

rotten luck

tumblr removes fics that use, for example, tw non-con and any nsfw tags in general from the tags. for this reason, as i’d like my fic to appear in the tags, please understand that this fic contains dark content under the cut. reading this comes at your own risk.

“What’re you doing?” With a foot in the door, Leon spots you hunched over the mantlepiece.

You jump like you do when he makes a noise over thirty decibels. Luckily, you’re housebroken now, just about, so there’s no piss. Or tears. He has no desire to deal with tears. Or piss or any fluid for that matter. Leon has bad days, and then he has worse days, then there are awful days– It’s only a bad day, but that doesn’t mean he wants to spend his time forcing your head into a puddle of your own piss. Fundamentally, piss is not his concern, he’s potty-trained and has been for a good thirty-four years. He’d like to think a good forty-three years, but he was a criminal bedwetter up until the ripe age of twelve. Foster system does that to you. You make the piss Leon’s concern when you do it on his floor–

“What’re you doing?” Leon asks once more when he wrenches himself away from his piss tangent. He decides to let you off for not answering the first time ‘cause he’s generous like that. Quietly, as everything you do is scarce and ghostlike, you point at the printed photos on his mantle with great interest. There’s three because Leon only really gives a shit about three people. They shouldn’t be out in the open like that. Leon doesn’t remember leaving them out, so he’d like to blame you, but maybe this is a sign of early-onset dementia.

“Who’s she?” You nod to Ashley first, pressed to his side so tightly, so lovingly, so sure that he loves her bombardment. Her affection, whatever it is that she insists it is. He thinks back to tearing her from the clutches of emaciated beings and wonders how he can stand here so normally. As if nothing ever happened. Ashley’s name is the one in the back of his throat, shattered and bloody like glass in a domestic dispute. Then again, he is face to face with his kidnapping victim and all. So it’s not very normal when he looks at the bigger picture. Far from normal, abnormal at the very least. Fucking deranged might be the right term.

“My ex,” Leon lies to see the look of disdain that crosses your face, the unpleasant curl of your lips that irons out when he pets your head. Whether it be for him or Ashley, he wouldn’t like to know. “Joking, baby, I saved her,” Leon settles on saved because there is no other way to explain it, and because he would love for you to know that they’re not his other kidnapping victims and that you’re his one and only kidnappee and he might be impulsive, but he’s not stupid enough to take pictures of and with kidnapped girls. Well, Ashley was a kidnapped girl, not his kidnapped girl, however.

Leon is very feminist, rescuing slender-ankled maidens is his speciality, you’re just an outlier. “I saved her,” he says when you nod at Manuela next, and then for Sherry, he pauses, “I saved her.” Sherry’s face goads him into cowardice, blowing his brains out is difficult when she’s sitting on his shoulder at all times like a Vatican cherub, covalently bonded to his heart or his soul. Whichever matters after you die. “You want a picture too, baby? Autograph?” He kisses your kidnapped little fingers with the guilt of a man who has been pointlessly guilty all his life - now literally guilty by CJS standards for the four months you’ve been captive.

You smile at him, and consequently his drops. “I’m good,” you say, smiling your real smile. It upsets him. “I’ve got the real thing.” When you talk too much he remembers that you’re not a toy or a plaything or anything of the sort. That you’re a real girl.

Sometimes Leon has these moments of startling clarity. You kidnapped a girl ‘cause mommy didn’t love you enough, but daddy hit you hard enough to knock the functioning parts of your brain out of place. You kidnapped a girl ‘cause you got touched back in boot camp, ‘cause you’ve seen a couple hundred people die.

At this point, he simply can’t move on, but he can give up. Every night the gun under his pillow digs into the hollows of his skull. It’s just that Leon can’t leave you, his lucky little girl, he feels responsible for the state you’re in. Stockholm and all. That wasn’t his intention, he’d rather you be dead out of sheer terror, your frail little heart would give out mid Leon’s fucked up chimaera that is part nasty, hot sex and part brutal beating and the most he would have to do is bury your bones in his backyard.

Pretend you never existed. Your name fades into obscurity like every other name does. Your face is just another face. And no one truly cares in the end. America’s love is limited, its affections will go elsewhere, to a prettier kidnapped girl in California or a younger one in Maine. The police will pass you off as a runaway soon enough, and no one would ever have to mourn a bodiless casket. What a mess. Leon didn’t mean to be so charming, didn’t mean to make you fall for him, he didn’t know girls these days were so into getting raped on the daily. Now he’s facing the repercussions of his sex appeal. God forbid he exists in sexy peace.

You gotta make everything his problem, don’t you? Lucky little thing. Leon wonders if you’ve ever had to do anything for yourself. Wonders, ponders, thinks, but he won’t pry. ‘Cause it makes him feel, like, really fucking sucky. That he plucked you out of your perfect little life ‘cause his life is the shittiest little life in this piece of shit world.

He struggles to even utter your name– Your name, god, he bets it was picked out so delicately, so carefully– And that pisses Leon off ‘cause his dad named Leon after his favourite hooker, remove the A from Leona and there you have it! Italian enough for his ma too, hit a perfect sweet spot. Now he’s upset, the perennial guilt has wilted and he’s just fucking exasperated by you. By your luck. By your shamelessness. What twisted little bitch sits there and gloats about having the real thing in reference to her kidnapper. In actuality, it’s Leon that has the real thing.

Leon knocks you down like you’re made of styrofoam. That little yelp never gets old. You see, he’s been struck by this awful migraine and he wants you to feel the same. You should ache like he does, but you don’t ‘cause you’re young and healthy and he makes you go to bed at an appropriate time ‘cause it’s his duty as your kidnapper to make sure you don’t die out of neglect - death via beating is fine and understandable.

You sit at his feet so sweetly, a stray dog that’s wandered into the shrine of a lonely god, curling up at the foot of a wooden statuette to seek some form of solace. Unfortunately for you, Leon is no god, just a normal man with a heart and a soul and a dick that thinks for itself. He does what any man with a dumb dick would do - grabs you by the ankle and lugs you towards the bedroom like a deer carcass. It’s slightly comical, and he knows that ‘cause he hears you giggle a little.

“Rape is nothin’ to laugh about, sweetheart,” Leon says ‘cause that’s the plan, he drops you down on the bed with a thunk. Is it even rape when the other party, a very much kidnapped party, is enjoying it? Truly, you suck the joy out of his life.

“Sorry, Leon,” you go slack and stupid the second he gropes your tit, he’s not one for foreplay, it bores him most days. He’ll eat your pussy ‘cause he likes the taste, but he’s old and his cock is on its last legs and the moment his shit jumps to life it’s best to get it in ASAP.

“It’s okay, baby,” Leon lifts the hem of your shirt, “I know you’re really fuckin’ stupid, so don’t worry ‘bout it, yeah?” God, he’s way too nice. He pulls the shirt over your head and you’re left bare.

“Thank you, Leon,” You’re well-mannered, he’ll give you that, polite little thing, it's terribly endearing, has the walls of his gristly heart caving in.

“You’re very welcome, baby,” he hums, unzipping his jeans to get his dick out before it ultimately droops. Your cunt is sopping, takes to his fingers easily, he curls them upwards to hear those slick clicks. “Spread ‘em.” Leon taps your thigh, and you bend your knees outwards, a foot flat on the bed. It’s nice that you’re wet for him and all, does wonders for his ego, but loose holes are no fun.

“Not there,” you’re so cute when you whine, would look so cute stuffed in the trunk of his car, god. He’d even put a pillow between your thighs to give that cunt some friction. Keep you entertained while he drives aimlessly.

“Baby, you should know better,” Leon chides, spreads your ass and eyes up your tighter hole. “Didn’t ask you, did I?”

“Nuh-uh, Leon.” Comes your automated response.

“What did I tell you?”

“Don’t speak unless spoken to,” you relay the words like you’re reading from a rulebook.

Creepy. Makes him shudder. Maybe Leon did Stockholm you purposefully, he didn’t expect you to respond so well, he was just saying shit. Like, shit that comes out of his mouth when he’s horny, and your sick little brain took his word as law. So, like, that’s your fault and you’re making it his problem. ‘Cause everyone loves to make everything Leon’s problem.

“God, you’re such a clever girl, baby,” he coos because he is so kind and gracious, giving out praise left and right. The tip of Leon’s cock is sticky, drags it through the seam of your cunt to part your folds, kisses your clit with the fat head. There’s a slight gape to your puckered hole when he grabs your ass cheek to open you up. Leon’s forced his way in countless times before, it’s no different this time. With a cock lubed by precum and your drippy cunt, he pushes into your asshole mercilessly.

“That’s a cute face, sweetheart, you gonna do that for me again?” Leon asks, taking a handful of tit as he admires the pain washing over your face— The divot between your brows that he smooths over with his thumb, a quivering bottom lip, eyes screwed shut ‘cause you’re trying to take his fat cock like a good girl should. You make it so easy to hurt you.

“Leon,” you whimper when he bottoms out. His cock kicks inside you, he pulls out to be mean, carves out space and your hole flutters ‘cause it’s so empty— Leon forces his way back in, till the ring of muscle swallows up the base of his cock, and his balls smack wetly against the fat of your ass. Two fingers find their way into your sloppy pussy once more, he feels the ridges of his cock through the spongy, thin walls of your cunt, and you’re liking it too much, fucking him back far too enthusiastically when his thumb presses down on your pulsing clit.

“You’re gonna cum like this, sweetheart,” Leon tells you matter-of-factly, removes his fingers with a pop! and wipes the milky cream dribbling down his wrist on your tummy. “Can you do that for me?”

“No, Leon, I can’t,” you shake your head, trembling fingers wrapping around his wrist to guide him back to your puffy clit.

“Yes you can, baby, you’re gonna do it for me aren’t you?” He tuts, breaking free from your sorry excuse of a grip to lay a firm smack on your jaw. It sends your head to the right, hears your neck crack, he’s sure. “We don’t use words like ‘no’ do we?”

“No…”

Aw, that was a trick question— He gives you another smack to force your head to the left. A little brain damage goes a long way. Keeps you obedient. When you get over the dizziness and face him head-on, you try to blink away the tears to no avail, they roll down your cheeks in pearlescent blobs. Clicker training is unneeded when you have a firm hand. It’s worked so well, any mention of your life outside of the time spent in his home and he’s punching your lights out, now you talk to Leon about Leon, and you think of Leon, and you fuck Leon and you love him– Jesus, okay, he did Stockholm you real fucking bad. No wonder you’re so weird.

Leon rabbits into you, short and shallow thrusts ‘cause it’s harder for you to breathe that way with his cock constantly pushing and jabbing and— Fuck, he’s practically reshaping your insides at such a brutal pace.

“I knew you could do it,” Leon snickers, presses hard on your abdomen to help you cum— And you’re so cute when you do, writhing and lifting your hips up and just looking a little stupid. There’s a stuttered breath, then you’re squirting in sharp bursts, from his cock in your ass alone. “There we go— You did it, baby, did so well—“ He is so fucking sweet to you, talking you through your high and shit. “You love getting your ass fucked don’t you?”

When you don’t respond, too busy trying to recover from an orgasm that’s left you boneless, Leon knocks some sense into you. “I do,” you gasp, teeth clattering like they always do when he hits you. “I do, Leon, I do, I love it— Love you.”

Holy shit. He hates it. That’s what drives him over the edge, that’s what makes him fuck his load into your ass till it’s dripping back down his shaft, that’s what gets his legs all shaky? It sickens him.

“Do you love me, Leon? I love you so much, Leon,” you mumble to him feverishly when he dips low to rest his forehead on yours, a hand on your cheek.

“You’re growing on me, baby,” Leon says, kissing the spot on your cheek he hit less than a minute ago. “Go clean yourself up.” He checks his watch while you limp off to the en-suite. “I’m headin’ out soon.”

“What?” You poke your head past the door frame, genuinely distraught at this revelation. “But you just got home, Leon, I was so bored— Can I come with you?”

“Are you dumb, baby?” Leon blinks at you, and he knows the answer is yes already.

“I’ll just miss you, like, lots ‘n lots.” You’re padding towards him, seating yourself on his lap. He puts his hands on your hips to draw you in, you breathe in his scent. It can’t be pleasant, but you get something out of it. “I want to come with you, please. I won’t run away, Leon, I like it with you.”

“I know you won’t run away,” he hums, squeezing your hips. “What would you do without me? You’d just miss me, baby.”

“And I’m gonna miss you when you go now, Leon.” Your arms loop around his neck. This is fucking disgusting. You’re not his girlfriend, but his literal kidnapping victim and he’s all loved up, letting you stroke his hair and kiss his neck— Fuck, he hates it, hates that he likes you so damn much.

It’s not like he could get away with it. Claire’s got, like, a database in her head for all the fucking women in the world. One look at your face and she’ll know. And how the fuck are you meant to play that off? Bringing a missing girl as your date for the night.

“You can come with me,” he agrees, just not in the girlfriend way, but in the appropriate kidnapped girl way. With a gag in your mouth and your hands behind your back, tucked into his trunk like a cute, fleshy suitcase.

Zip ties are best, rope comes second, and Leon’s tie is probably not on the list of best kidnapping tools. He just wasn’t prepared to take you with him. He’s fairly new to the whole kidnapper thing, it’s quite exhausting.

The sun sets early these days, and it’s not like Leon lives in a crowded area. Only sign of life on the street is him. And you. Panties stuffed in your mouth as a makeshift gag, wrists tied together with the tie Hunnigan got him for Christmas. You could spit the panties out at any minute, but you don’t. You could break free from the shitty knot he’s tied, but you don’t. Leon must be good at this manipulation thing ‘cause you’re so damn docile, letting him lay you down like a corpse, move you around like one.

“All good?” Leon asks, tilts his head to the side as you stare up at him with glassy eyes. Not all good. You’re terrified. He can tell. You still nod though. “Good.” He kisses your head, then shuts you in.

Leon is already a bit of a nervous driver. His windows are blacked out at least. He always feels like he’s doing something wrong. Like there’s drugs planted in his glove compartment, or he’s got blood money on the backseat, or a cute girl in the trunk— Which he does, but he doesn’t usually have a cute girl tied up in the trunk. He usually does get a ticket or two though, able to charm his way out of it, flash his ID.

There isn't a single noise from you, not even a thump, and it worries him. Leon considers pulling over, but he drives on white-knuckled and shaky. Hopes you haven’t rolled out without him noticing. Been flattened by a truck. Jesus Christ, he thought something about this would be gratifying, but his nerves have spiked and unlocked a new level of anxiety. He should hand himself in right now– Obviously, he doesn’t do that, and he parks up outside Claire’s apartment instead, and he is going to check on you, he is, he was–

“Oh, hey you!” Sherry takes him by surprise, her hand is small in his, but it’s calloused. Doesn’t feel like it did when he held it the first time. Even smaller and bloodied. When she smiles at him, soft wrinkles form. “You’re on time,” she comments, and he wants to die because there is a girl in his trunk.

“Right on, kiddo!” He says to Sherry who is thirty-seven and married. Leon would like to think he does well in high-pressure situations, he does do well in high-pressure situations. That’s a fact. He’s great in end-of-the-world-type scenarios, great at saving America from impending doom, he could do it with his eyes closed– Facing the closest thing you have to family not as yourself, but as a creepy, old rapist is insanely difficult and he would prefer to never do it again. However, he is exactly that, plus a kidnapper, so Leon will continue to do it for the rest of his days.

“Are you okay, Leon?” The corners of her lips are downturned– She knows, oh god, she knows, and she’s never going to look at you the same, and she’ll hate you for the rest of her life– “You’re not sick, are you? I heard there was a bug going around, Jake got sick today that’s why he couldn’t come.” Fuck Jake. Leon dislikes him. Her hair is longer, long enough to fall over her shoulders. He’d tell her to cut it, in their line of work it’s a risk, but she looks how she used to look, and Leon can’t say anything to her.

“No, I’m just, I’m cold, it’s cold, right? It’s cold out here, let’s go inside– Claire’s waiting,” he says very smoothly, totally without a single fumble.

“What is up with you?” Claire scans his guilty face when she opens the door, scans it like a robot, not like an observant human. She steps aside to let Sherry in, kissing the shorter girl’s cheek, and then she blocks Leon from entering. “My pipes are bust, Leon.”

“Okay? Can’t help you with that, babe.” Leon is not a fucking plumber. Doesn’t look like one in the slightest. He’s handsome like a washed-up actor, he knows that much is true, does not fit the bill for a plumber.

“You look like you need to shit really bad.”

“God, I don’t, I’m just fuckin’ cold.” Leon shows her his shaky hands as proof. It’s not proof ‘cause these are kidnapper shakes.

Claire stares at him. Ineffable. Unflappable. She scares the shit out of him, might really end up on her busted toilet if she scrutinises him to this degree all night. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good, I’m great– I’m cold, I’m fine,” he says normally because he is a normal man with a heart and soul and dick and balls and credit. All the shit normal guys have. And a girl in the trunk, he’s got that too. The cast-iron doubt in Claire’s eyes has Leon on edge for the rest of the night. It never dissipates. Or she’s just looked that way her whole life and Leon’s overthinking it.

“Nah, Leon hates those, don’t you?” Sherry nudges his shoulder.

“Huh?” Leon says intelligently, he’s painfully aware of his blundering efforts at socialising. Painfully aware of you. In his trunk. Cold, scared, and wet ‘cause you’re fucked up. He hates a lot of things like assless chaps and seven-eleven beer and swans. He drinks seven-eleven beer anyway. Does not wear assless chaps though. And he’d prefer to keep it that way. Swans piss him off ‘cause they're beautiful and violent and beautiful things should be passive like you are. Beautiful things were put on this earth to be gawked at. Beautiful things belong tied up in his car.

“Parrots,” she smiles at him again and he’s hit by a wave of nausea.

“What about ‘em?”

“Me and Jake want to get a pet, I’ve always wanted a parrot, you promised to get me one when I was a kid,” Sherry says, it’s not even to guilt trip him, just factual, but Leon feels like the shittiest guy alive, he’s very good at feeling bad.

“I do hate them,” Leon confirms, “They talk too much.” Pets are pets. They roll over, show off their bellies, wag their tails, they shouldn't speak.

“That’s what I like about them!”

Leon gets a headache when you speak for even a minute, that’s why he couldn't deal with a parrot. Or any pet other than his lucky girl ‘cause at least she’s smart enough to know when to shut up.

“It’s not like they talk a lot.” Claire fills her wine glass for the nth time. “They speak when spoken too,” she says while blinking at Leon so directly he thinks she might’ve put cameras in his house to see if he’s being as feminist as he claims he is. “And you can teach them names, I think it’s cute.”

“We took care of a puppy last year, a friend’s one, but Jake doesn’t like dogs at all. Poor thing, she got car sick when we took her out, she was in the back on her own, and she must’ve been so scared-”

A dog in the back of a car all on her own. God, doesn’t that sound familiar? Did you get car sick? Should he have checked up on you? Fuck, you might’ve choked to death on your own car sickness by now. The clock ticks and Leon checks his watch about ten times within five minutes. He can’t leave first. He never leaves first– Oh, fuck, but what if you’re fucking dead? He prays you aren’t. He would appreciate it if you were alive.

“I don’t… I don’t feel great,” Leon says not convincingly when he stands up, then he bends to kiss Sherry on the head. “I love you, sweetheart, we’ll catch up next time, alright?” And he doesn’t give either of them a chance to respond properly. Collecting his keys from the table, his jacket, his gun.

Leon, don’t you want to finish– Leon, you’re leaving– Call me when you get back– I’ll miss you, Leon– Text me back– Should you be driving–

He would love to reassure Sherry, tell her that he’ll miss her so much he could die and that he promises to text Claire back on time, and that he’s perfectly capable when it comes to drunk driving. but he’s pretty sure he’s got a missing dead girl in his trunk. Leon wonders if they can see him clearly from Claire’s fifth-story window. They don’t care about what he’s doing, but the probability that they might be able to see what he’s doing, acting all shady, is scary. The street lights flicker, and when he opens the hatch, he’s bathed in the glow of your halo. Hail fucking Mary and Joseph and Jesus. You’re there, eyes frantic, and very alive, panties still stuffed in your mouth. Could’ve spat those out by now, but you’re a good girl.

“Fuck,” Leon sighs, he smiles like he loves you. “Hi, baby, did you have fun?” He hunches over to get a better look at you, you’re in the position he left you in, on your side, balled up, almost foetal. He slaps your tit, pinches your cheek, pokes your ass like he’s giving you a physical. You shake your head. “No?” Leon pouts at you, then he leaves you in the dark by slamming the lid. The thrill has sorta settled in, or he’s just tipsy, ‘cause he’s giddy about it, about having you back there. Highways are fairly empty at this time, and so now that he’s boosted by you not being dead and cognac, Leon parks up on the side of the road. Opens up his trunk, again, it’s the most he’s ever used it, shit is gonna fall off its hinges.

“You saved me,” you say when he takes your spit-soaked panties out of your mouth. “You found me, sir, I was so scared, I-I thought I was going to die in here.”

Leon’s confused for a second, then he gets it. You’re roleplaying as… as a kidnapping victim. Which you already are. So it’s like the Droste effect, or holarchy, or more simply a thing within a thing. You’re letting him take on the hero part, which he’s most familiar with, he’s good at being the good guy, that’s why Leon is a pretty crummy kidnapper. “I saved you,” Leon says flatly, he goes with it. “You should suck my dick to say thank you.” He didn’t mean to say that so soon, he was gonna play along for longer, but you made him really fucking hard just then. Teary-eyed, snotty, looking so cute and sweetly kidnapped.

Waiting for your response isn’t his style. Leon had his dick out before you even spoke, he was planning on just stuffing it in your mouth, but you went and made up a little story in your head to get him even harder. He shuffles forward, wipes the tip on your lips, slaps it on your cheek.

“C’mon, open up, baby.” You nose at the underside of his cock, then take him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and giving it to him so well, how he likes it, choking once you get to the balls. Leon places a hand on the back of your head, forces you still as he pounds your throat, hearing you gag and heave brings him comfort, ‘cause you're struggling and he loves to make you struggle, loves to make you work for it. You've had it too easy, and now you’ve started liking the sex (read: rape), so Leon’s glad he can hurt you without you getting off on it. “Okay, okay, that’s enough, baby, you can stop that now,” Leon says like he wasn’t skullfucking you into a coma, his cock slips past your lips, strings of saliva beading your chin, your neck, your tits.

The trunk is kinda small, when he puts you on your front, your head rests on the backseats, and your legs dangle over the edge. “Can you untie me, sir?” You ask in a scratchy voice, throat shredded.

Leon ignores you. He’s busy scoffing at how fucking soaked you are, misses the days he had to spit on your cunt to get it wet, when he felt all big like his cock was imposing ‘cause you were so dry he had to force his way in, and you would scream so loud it sliced his skin, and he would groan for that contrapuntal effect ‘cause hurting you is the best thing he’s ever felt. Better than opioids, better than regular sex, better than a scalp massage, better than anything that feels mildly great.

Your cunt swallows his shaft too well, and it is hot to know you’re so far gone now, but would it kill your pussy to show some form of resistance? He knocks his hips forward so hard the car jolts, thrusts all his weight into you, so his cock is doing nothing but harm, breaking your cunt in, going past your cervix, womb-fucking and all that good shit. It doesn’t get further than your cervix for obvious reasons.

‘Cause his dick is not a knife, it’s a dick and it twitches when you clench. He likes having a dick, he likes to fuck with it, likes to stick it in places it shouldn’t be, likes to disfigure and wreck and ruin with it - fly in the ointment is that it’s not immune to stupid, sloppy holes that beg for it. Leon shudders, keeps himself buried to the hilt, rolls his hips forward so the tip jabs the fleshy, firm opening of your cervix in painful grinds.

“Leon,” you wheeze, twisting like you’re getting exorcised, “Leon— Leon, it hurts—“

“I know, baby,” Leon pats your ass, giving a sharp thrust forward to make you sob. “Keep talkin’ to me like that, turns me on.”

“Hurts so bad, hurts, Leon, ‘s gonna– ‘s gonna kill me, Leon– Don’t wanna die, I don’t wanna die, please–”

“Shit,” he laughs breathlessly. That was hot. Girls begging for their lives ‘cause his dick is too good. When you turn to glance at him over your shoulder, his hips stutter. “Fuck, baby– You look fucked.” Like you’re terrified of him. That's how it should be. “Don’t go pushin’ me out,” Leon grunts, words punctuated by strokes that have you reeling in all the worst ways.

“I can’t–” Your head bumps the seats when Leon knocks you in the back of the head. Hard enough to stun you into silence.

“Can’t run from it, can you?” Leon bites down on your shoulder, momentary relief from the cruel drag of his cock inside your sticky cunt, now you can focus on his teeth. How he might tear into you. Eat you up. “Gotta take it for me, baby, ‘cause that’s what you're good for. No brains just got a stupid little cunt.” When he cums, you arch into him, and he fucks into you with all he’s got, till you’re stuffed full of his seed. Something to keep your belly warm for the ride home. Leon should get an award for being this considerate.

“Leon, can I sit in the front?” you sniffle, pathetic and floppy and orgasmless.

He sneers at you. “Do you want me to get caught, sweetheart? You wanna get taken away from me?”

“No, Leon…”

Click!

That was cathartic. Leon’s glad you’ve still got pain receptors, you’re not totally gone, clinging on for dear life, but still afloat. He carries his little body bag to the door. “Want a photo?” Leon sets you down on the ground, you cling to the back of his shirt as he struggles with his jammy lock.

“Oh, yeah!” You light up, “‘Cause you saved me!”

“Yeah, baby.” Leon ushers you inside. “I saved you.” From the boot of his own fucking car.

[eganeyes]

thinking of vampires and werewolves integraded in the military clegan au im sighing in agony

werewolf!bucky vampire!buck ofc lets fall to the expected norms mainly because i am a dog coded bucky enthusiast and also as much as i think of buck as a doberman he's very much vampire coded

werewolf vampire feud being an actual and expected thing, the 100th being gunned from the beginning of the war as a trial unit to see how humans, vampires, and werewolves are able to work together. most units kind of failing at it because everyones too territorial, too much blood history, too blood-proud, and humans too cautious.

enter the 100th, always the outlier, ever the undisciplined.

officer training begins far before their assignment to the 100th, so the buckies meet each other first. born-werewolf currently lone-wolfing john bucky egan's proverbial but also quiet literal fur bristling when he firsts scents the air of his new base and zeroing on buck cleven, the vampire who's going to sleep on the bunk right next to him. millennia-old ice-cold buck cleven smelling the wet dog fur and hearing the low growls first before looking up from folding his handful of monogrammed kerchiefs to a werewolf standing by the bunk next to him, presumably assigned that bed.

buck promptly ignores the guy, which bucky doesn't take at all very kindly. john still gives the guy his name though, a week down the line, because, well, he's very pretty and very smart and very capable of putting bucky on his back.

werewolves being high in the sky is unheard of. bucky suffers through the 'trying to get closer to the moon?' jokes easily enough. no sun smiting vampires here btw, should i say they glitter like the cullens or nah. just the slightest glitter then, lets say that there's a glow when the sun hits their skin, vampires being the suns favorite child or something and when they die they return as ashes to the sun to give those vampire pilots some fear of flying too close to the sun.

complicated-relationship-with-the-moon werewolf bucky vs complicated-relationship-with-the-sun vampire buck oh the ache

but like more on the other guys because fuck clegan theyve caused me enough grief

werewolf dougie vs human blakely. sooo attached to dougley you don't understand. dougie imprinting on ev like a baby chick, scenting his clothes and his jacket and his pillows etc. blakely being sooo flustered the first time dougie actually greets him like pack—as in dougie touches his nose to the side of ev's nose, runs it to the side just before his ear, and down to his neck—face cherry red and spluttering while dougie just has the most satisfied cat-who-got-the-cream look in his face. maybe after their first successful bomb-drop practice mission? idk just obsessed with the image.

vampire duo crubbles, centuries of being together reflected on the way they're never apart on the ground. croz's diet has to be like incredibly precise and certain blood sits weirdly in his stomach so up in the air paired with the anxiety of being so close to the sun he's puking out anything that's left in his stomach. ms. jean crosby known keeper of both harry crosby and bubbles payne, only woman to keep those two in line, but nobody actually knows what she is.

another werewolf and vampire pair: hammy and brady. hammy being a werewolf disaster duo with dougie, squabbling and rucking up the base like pups, bucky having to snap at them to cut it out when he's also wagging his out-of-sight tail wanting to cause mayhem too but maybe not when some very important general is by the base yeah. brady just brings that vibes of being incredibly old and incredibly stuffy and incredibly stick-in-the-mud at first you know?? hammy first meeting his vampire pilot and scoffing because that's literally the stereotypical vampire he's shit upon pre-army. until he sees brady pilot. until his pilot manages to execute a move so beautiful he doesn't end up as a pile of burnt fur within minutes of a trial flight. until he sees john fucking brady crack a smile at him with the slight glitter of the dying sun caressing his skin. dougie, smelling this shit from literally 4 miles away groans because brother, really?

vampire!kenny stuck in the body of a 19 year old never to grow old, waiting for his passing from the sun whenever that is. very human very warm very kind rosie rosenthal easily grasping at kenny's ice-cold-yet-sun-blessed skin and sparks fly from the flat of the palm meeting rosie's and to the tips of his bronze burnt curls.

fiery human chick harding able to go toe-to-toe with wolves and vampires, mouth stretched wide the first time he has bucky egan sitting on his visitor's chair whose metabolism is working overtime trying to burn the devils piss of a hooch out of his system. meeting born-werewolf jack the next hour who's bucky's only equal in their eclectic werewolf pack—whose fur is clearly bristling from bucky grounding him but he clocks instantly that this were will be the one who will actually snap on his new boys' heels if they ever step out of line.

currently kind of obsessed with this aaaa might come back with other ships (demacon i Will love you into existence) when it hits (hopefully) probably when the bi!buck euphoria melts a bit

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hello sex witch! I hope i am not disrespectful or annoying in sending this ask. Im a mid 20s straight dude who has never had any sexual experience, and i know people constantly say that it doesnt define me, that i shouldnt base my self worth on that, but the fact is it is incredibly alienating to be an adult who simply does not participate in what for most people seems to be a normal part of adult life. I want to have sexual experiences, but at this point im afraid i am like… too broken to start? Like who would want to initiate a sexual experience with someone like me yknow? I guess im asking for advice in how to overcome this kind of thing and begin having a sex life. Even if you can’t provide much advice, I’m hoping that if you post this, maybe other people in my situation will feel a little less alone. Love and light to you <3

hi anon,

this isn't disrespectful or rude at all, and I'm glad you're willing to reach out for advice about this! I often worry that I'm missing the 20-something straight dude demographic, but I'm glad to know some of y'all are out there, because you deserve compassionate conversations about sex as much as everyone else does :)

I'm gonna say this right up front: you're not broken. nobody is! whenever you find yourself worrying that there's something about you that would make any potential partner go running, I want you to imagine the situation were reversed. if a woman you were attracted to told you something about herself that was the same thing you're ashamed of in yourself, would you stop being attracted to her?

in this case, would it be a dealbreaker for you that someone else hadn't had any previous sexual partners? would you think they were broken and unfuckable, or would you see that as just one aspect of a person who's much more than their sexual history?

if you wouldn't feel negatively about a partner having that trait then I'm sorry, you're not allowed to hate it in yourself! them's the rules!

listen: very rarely does a person pick a sexual partner because of their extensive sexual resume. people connect over shared interests, over similar senses of humor and values, over bonds that can be formed in a second if the vibes are right. most people won't care how many other partners you've had; they'll care if you seem interesting and dynamic and worth getting to know more in a carnal manner.

listen: ultimately, you have very little control over whether or not you have sex. it's largely a matter of luck and coincidence unless you feel like paying someone to have sex with you, which is a fine thing to do - sex workers need to make rent, after all. but what you can control is how you show up in the world, how you express yourself, and how you interact with others. cultivate yourself. dedicate time to your interests, take loving care of yourself, learn to do things that make you happy without shame, practice being a good friend and conversational partner, take risks that let you have fun outside your comfort zone.

in short, focus on the areas of your life that you can control rather than dwelling on the ones dictated so heavily by chance. the best case scenario is that you become the sexiest, most interesting person alive; the worst case scenario is that you enjoy life more fully whether you have a partner or not.

also, hey: for what it's worth, studies pretty consistently find that most people tend to WILDLY overestimate the amount of sex that other people are having while considering themselves below average. the truth is that you're unlikely to be nearly as much of an outlier as you worry that you are.

[where-does-the-heart-lie]

aha,,, I had this really in-depth thing I wrote about how much I like your art,,, and the first half, maybe even first 2/3 got deleted,,, I was so excited writing it, I have no idea what it all even contained anymore,,,

So... the first paragraph after this here is rewritten from what I could remember writing the first time. I know it's not as in-depth as it originally was. Hopefully it still gets the depth of what I want to say across... The second paragraph is what DIDN'T get deleted. Aaaa

I only just recently found you and started following you, but I have to say, your art and comics and writing for the ASL brothers is just. So unbelievably good. You're up there in my favorites. Top three. Top two even. The way you write them is like watching a group of close friends interacting in real life, down to the silliness and shenanigans and inside jokes and abrupt changes in topic or mood in a conversation, including superficial changes (one that comes to mind is when Ace goes something like "I'll bet ONE MILLION DOLLARS" or some incredibly large number, really intensely suddenly, in response to Luffy's saying he'd be $20 or something, and then there's a beat, and then Luffy is like "$20 is fine :)" and Ace is just like "Alright :)". That kind of thing is something Ive had happen, something I've seen happen to others... but I've never seen it written/drawn so well.) Everything about their interactions is so incredibly natural, so full of life. Every time I read one of your comics I'm in constantly in awe and taking mental notes. Well. Okay, no, that's a lie. I WISH I were taking mental notes, but I get so caught up reading because it flows SO smoothly that I forget to.

And that's another thing!! How the way you do paneling and story beats in your comics makes reading while also visualizing movement and transitions so seamless. It's like, the visual-narrative equivalent of a hot knife through butter. I've read plenty of comics-- from novice to professional-- that have really clunky paneling and/or pacing. And similarly, I've read as many that let you read everything easily, but it's like, TOO easy, and there's no weight drawing your eyes to the actual art or keeping them there. And I've seen comics that are somewhere between these two, but still don't feel like they have a good flow. (All this as passive observation, I'm not one to actively look to critique something.) Anyway, what I'm saying is, the way you set up your comics-- the art, the paneling, the pacing, the speech bubbles, the shots, EVERYTHING-- makes them just. MM!! An absolute frickin delight to read. And it's combined with some of the best, most natural-feeling writing I've ever had the pleasure of reading. You balance everything so well. In this age of being desensitized to humor online, I must say, the silliness in parts of the Water Is Thicker Than Blood comic make me genuinely grin and even laugh to myself alone in my room. It feels so real, so genuine, so... I'm running out of words. I'm sorry. I just... REALLY love how you make stuff. I want you to know that I'm a big fan, and, even though I'm older than you I'm learning a lot, and your stuff is so well-done. I hope this isn't too strange, aha... if it is, I apologize. I got a little intense

Oh woweewowee!!!!!!

Thank you for enjoying how i depict them! I really enjoy drawing them as realistic as i can. I really want people to understand them how i do in my head, and im glad it comes off perfectly because i love these little gremlins! And it really is surprisingly easy to think up situations of them being little dumbasses together :) just put them in situations, think about the ways any normal person could possibly react to the information thats given, scrap all that, use the outlier, and bam! That’s a bonafide ASL dynamic right there!

Thats really nice of you to say how you like how i panel my comics because thats one of the things im a bit self conscious of, truthfully. My formatting isnt as neat or polished as other comics are, and i really dont care to change that, but its nice to know that there is still charm and interest in my style of comics.

I get what you mean with the being desensitized to humor online nowadays. Idk what about it but its kinda hard to get me to full on laugh at memes like i used to. But i really enjoy putting in gags that i think and I chuckle to myself about for a while after i thought of it. The “that doesnt taste anything like ass” gag got me chuckling for so long to myself while i was at work. Just like,,, the shock and awe that Sabo is in from having witnessed that is so funny to me, i dont think that gag will ever get old in my head.

That’s really cool that me just goofing around can be a learning opportunity to people :0 ive never even considered that could be the case

Not at all! Thanks so much for your thoughts and opinions! This is very heartwarming and im very happy i could produce something thats so meaningful to others :)

Thanks for the ask, too :D

[iraprince]

Heyo! Any advice on struggling to get your art seen in the world? I feel like no matter how much I post, or what I post, people never see it or seem to like it. I love art and am pursuing it as a career (hence why Im getting a degree in it currently lmao) but its kind of disheartening to work really hard on something, post it, and no one sees it.

oh, man. i'm afraid for this one i don't feel like i have a lot of solid advice. having a large-ish following online feels like something that kind of just, like, Happened to me, mostly on accident/in ways outside of my control, and even if i had some ideas on how to potentially replicate those gains i don't think they'd work consistently. (also, a lot of my large jumps in follower count came from mental health related work going viral bc it's #relatable; this is something i have complicated feelings about and it's absolutely not a viable, like, "strategy" or something that i would recommend, in the way that ppl can say like, "fanart gets attention!" or stuff like that.)

so, i don't have advice for how to actually GET those eyes on your art; i can maybe help with making ppl more likely to STAY once they do find you, and how to build a following that will actually help you maintain a living from your work -- bc i have TONS of peers w a following a fraction of the size of mine who get more jobs than me, are doing cooler/more "professional" stuff than me, etc! (heads up that most of my experience is on twitter; i know less than nothing about places like instagram + tiktok, and while tumblr functions very differently from twitter i feel like i handle things mostly the same here, aside from doing less personal posting/being less talkative and not 'networking' or following many people).

SCROLLING BACK UP TO ADD A SPOILER ALERT: AS ALWAYS I HAVE SAID "HAHA IDK I DON'T REALLY HAVE ANY ADVICE" AND THEN PROCEEDED TO TYPE A FULL ESSAY. IF YOU ARE ON DESKTOP YOU CAN HIT THE 'J' KEY TO SKIP THIS POST. IF YOU'RE ON MOBILE, I'M SORRY

a very important thing, especially professionally: it HAS to be easy to see what you do. (this is easier here on tumblr, where u can have a designated art tag etc, than on twitter, which is an awful website that sucks. <- guy who makes all his money on twitter) this means, like -- if i see something from you and get curious and click your profile, it should only take one more click to quickly see at least SOME of your art. on a professional account, it's probably best for your icon to be your own work, something snappy and memorable and eye-catching that reads well at a small size; people shouldn't have to dig for 20 minutes before they can start browsing your art. on twitter, this means TRY not to gunk up your media tab with a ton of reaction images/screencaps of your gacha pulls/etc; on here, it means make your art tag easy to find; on any website, a portfolio link, prominently displayed, is the best bet. (i am still working on that one myself lmao and i've been working professionally full time for a few years now so like, there are outliers and wiggle room on all of this).

next! it's great when your audience finds you, but you have to find them, too. find artists who do similar stuff to you and get into their stuff -- sincerely, not just as "networking." (like only do this with ppl whose stuff you actually think is cool, not just trying to get in mutuals with everyone you see in hopes of a bump, obviously.) get interested in other indie artists, find the people who are working/publishing in the spaces that are exciting and aspirational for you, and support them! i don't want it to sound cynical when i say there's a kind of give-and-take built into this; the point is not "well, if i reblog/retweet a bunch of YOUR stuff, maybe you'll feel obligated to boost mine in return," but that when you find other artists/creatives who are on the same wavelength as you, you will naturally stumble into pools of people who want to support art like yours, and you and your newfound peers will help each other when you hype each other's stuff up and direct followers to each other! (again re: things going differently on dif websites: this is twitter-specific for me, bc i use my tumblr as a gallery/portfolio. that doesn't mean it doesn't happen here tho! it can and does happen everywhere!)

it is really not a competition. i know that SOMETIMES it is in like, a really nitty-gritty numbers sense; people only have so much money to spare, they will make choices about whose patreon they can afford/what comic to buy/etc, that's true. but to me that's not competition. people who are sincerely into your stuff will hang on until they can afford it; maybe that means someone follows you for two whole years before the planets align and they have the budget/opportunity to commission you. by hanging out in similar circles you are not taking potential business or opportunities away from anyone else, nor are you risking leading your own audience to Someone They'll Like Better; you're just offering more options, and the internet is VAST and endless, and EVENTUALLY people will show up who are into YOUR STUFF, SPECIFICALLY. helping each other is never going to stifle or delay that!!

and my final chunk of advice is the one i give constantly that everyone is probably super sick of hearing but i just seriously seriously believe in it, even tho i know it's slow to pay off and hard to follow: keep doing exactly what you want to. keep doing it!!! you have to!!! yes, i mean the stuff that's getting like, 2 likes and 0 reblogs! the stuff that 'nobody likes!'

earlier i mentioned i have gotten big follower bumps from like adhd comics and stuff like that going viral. the thing is that, from a professional standpoint: my follower count has like, more than quintupled from where it was at a few years ago; my patreon income has absolutely NOT quintupled lmfao. it has less than doubled, over that same period of like... i wanna say over 4 years. that's still good, i'm grateful for it, and i owe a lot of it to the sheer numbers game (the more ppl see ur work, the more likely it is you'll reach someone who decides to support you), but there is absolutely not an actual direct correlation between numbers and career success/stability.

where there IS a direct correlation is between "people who give a shit about the art i really truly love making" and "people who like my art enough to support me professionally." HUGE chunks of the followers i get any time something goes viral slough off over time; there's nothing wrong with that, they just follow me bc something was funny/interesting and end up realizing my work's not actually their thing. but the ppl who follow me bc they're into all the stuff i post most consistently, the stuff i care about and am passionate about, stick around. and i would not have found them if i wasn't posting the shit i care about!

out there there are people who will be 100% crazy about the stuff that is 100% what you want to make. it's like actually statistically impossible for there not to be. the more niche your thing is, the longer it will take to find them, but they absolutely exist. but if you give up before you find them -- if you start saying, "well, i'll put in 50% of this idea that i love, but the other 50% is too weird and nobody's gonna like it and it'll flop" -- well, in that case, you can only ever find the ppl who are 50% into what you do. don't fuck yourself like that!! you cannot deny yourself the possibility (the INEVITABILITY!!! IMO!!!!!) of finding the people who will 100% get what you're doing.

so: on a pragmatic level, i'm sure there will be ppl who disagree with me on this, and who think it's absolutely mandatory to do fanart as a crowd draw or learn about algorithms and posting times and get on tiktok and do the visibility grind and everything and that it's stupid and irresponsible to tell people not to. i'm sure it's also easy to point out that i'm speaking from a place where i now have more eyes on my stuff than i know what to fucking do with so maybe i'm just totally out of touch and being naive or something. but for me the most important part of doing art now, ESPECIALLY as a career, is to keep loving it and to believe in what i'm doing and to build an audience that cares about the same things i do. and i think it is really really vital to make that your top priority. bc if you don't, then even if you DO crack the code to suddenly getting tons of notes on everything etc -- will you even keep wanting to do it?

this job is hard. it's lonely, in my experience; i spend so much time sitting in front of my computer alone. it's unstable, which is stressful and can be frightening. it's emotionally taxing, for me, because art is so important to me that it's hard to set boundaries and separate my identity from it and actually treat it like a job. it has taken me a long time to find success doing this; maybe i could have gotten there faster if i had tried to find ways to draw an audience specifically, but i think if i had somehow managed to get a big patreon following/tons of commissioners/etc by doing something formulaic or doing stuff that specifically gets tons of attention, but isn't what's natural for me -- i don't think i would have lasted very long that way. this is already hard and complicated enough; i don't think it's sustainable to give up any unnecessary ground on doing exactly what you're passionate about, bc at least in my case, that's mandatory for this even being a livable career for me. i would burn out and decide to do something else very quickly if the only way to succeed was to chase numbers/engagement.

doing it this way is very slow. if i hadn't been able to lean on family/my wife while starting up, i would have had to have a day job for much longer (like, years, probably) while saving up and preparing to go full time; for as long as you struggle to get traction, it may mean going full time has to be on the backburner. but the thing is that there's nothing wrong with that, it's the reality for the vast majority of us (from what i've seen) -- and you'll eventually build a career that can last way longer, i think.

okay oh my god i'm done. sorry about that. like i said this job is pretty lonely and i sit here all day and think about this stuff and then generally do not talk about it with anyone until somebody asks me about it and then i repeat myself at length again. like i did here. anyway have a good night sincerely and i hope some part of this was helpful!!!

[bluewinnerangel]

About Louis about Chicago

I can't help but feel the things Louis says about Chicago have a layered meaning to them (as I feel with most things he says - but among everything he's been saying about the songs on FITF, Chicago feels like an outlier to me. As if there's some need to elaborate in this way while for most other songs it's just idk that pressure isn't there if that makes sense), there's just something between the lines there, and I don't mean this is for us to "figure out", its his alone, I'm just loving him potentially finding ways to say things coming from a deeper place without giving too much (or anything) away. This post got little to do with the meaning of Chicago, its just hey did you notice this too lol that's it. So in bold his quotes about Chicago:

"It is a special song to me and almost not by choice it just is" - it was a necessity to get this out? it's... not by choice it just is. I feel like this quote is bigger than whatever I can think of. (Track-By-Track)

(about Dave Gibson the only co-writer on Chicago getting him: "Sometimes what I find challenging, is I can see the picture or I can hear the song or I can see the concerts in my head and sometimes it’s quite hard to articulate that cause you’ve got such a clear vision in your head and you just want someone else to be able to read your mind, go ‘Yeah that’s what Im talking about!’" - Again (so far) this is the only song on this album where he's making it known as far as i know he had trouble putting what he had in his head into words. This quote is also about Dave understanding him well in general, but talking about Chicago is what prompted him to say this. (Track-By-Track)

Dave Gibson said "I honestly love everything we wrote - but I think Chicago is a really really special record" - again emphasizing this one's more. (Dave Gibson on Twitter)

[when asked about the meaning:] "Yeah, I’m gonna leave that one close to me chest that one. Pretty kind of raw lyric that, that lyric kind of hits you in the heart but nah, I’m not telling you." - the essence here. (Z100 NY)

"even from that first lyric you know I saw you had a baby did you use any names that we liked like that it kind of hits you straight away [compares it to the brashness as he's calling it of Face The Music] but its important obviously to have shade to the line" (it's gotta be "line" but I really hear him say "lie") - this can mean so many things? (Track-By-Track)

"one of those songs [...] I'm referencing my lyrical maturity and its not some i think i could have written on the last record because i think its a concept that i havent necessarily heard before" - again this can mean many things. (Track-By-Track)

but again this "I've personally not heard the concept [of chicago] before" ???? WHAT? Whu- the concept like the casual listen concept is like.. yo we didn't work out. So what is he thinking here. Within his own discography? Is he trying to put emphasis on his song being like super specific and that's what he hasn't heard before? How is he viewing this song that makes him say this. (Track-By-Track)

"It's a very honest [and then immediately:] I will say maybe half of it you know is is imaginative half it based on personal experience [and then immediately:] probably like most songs in reality" - He's really putting it out there that it's "half real autobiographical half imagination" (Track-By-Track)

"But, but I will say, I do have a special relationship with Chicago, like it is, it is I mean yeah its a cool place. I mean I do feel this kind of affiliation to, to Chicago, but mostly it’s half theoretical, imaginative, and half based on real events" - adding mainly because he did put into words there is some affiliation to Chicago, and that the half-theoretical, half real events gets repeated like its apparently important its out there lol. (102.7 KIIS FM)

he keeps calling the song "emotional" - obviously it's deeply emotional but... he's saying this the most about this song by far and then just not elaborating at all. not that i need him too, just stands out to me.

Then there's him agreeing on it being the most pop song on the album, while at many points in this promo run he's been clear on wanting to step away from that, but then here's him wholeheartedly agreeing "DEFINITELY" and absolutely not in a negative way, and ready to elaborate, but unfortunately the interviewer wasn't done and clarifies "it's a nice sort of way to transition from walls into this new album" and he goes "exactly yeah that's kind of how I see it [...] it's not trying to be anything that it's not" which I think is so fascinating? Maybe the most of all in this list? It's making me think he purposefully went poppy on this one because it fits the concept of Chicago? Like he's traveling back in time sonically on purpose? Maybe? (Track-By-Track)

[nanjokei]

ok heres what ive been thinking of recently

honestly its just raw emotion, i dont really mean to upset anyone or say that they're consuming anything wrong. i'll try to word things as carefully as possible (or ill mince meat as much as possible idk) because i really do not like when people assume ill intent in my words just because i use blunt language at times. (sorry its just how i talk. im not mad at you. im not yelling at you online)

but honestly i have had a long thought about it.

i'm incredibly tired of the lack of curiousity a lot of new vocaloid fans have towards the culture.

statements like "boomers expect me to know songs from 2007" or whatever. i mean, no, no one is Expecting anything from you, that is absolutely a strawman you have invented based on someone merely being surprised (often in jest even), but it's also like. you, who actively identify yourself as a big fan, have never even thought to look back? there are so many playlists and medleys you can consult. it is a few searches away, i don't care. you are not five years old. and if you feel lost you can always ask people there are always so many people just waiting to introduce someone to even one or two old songs they like.

like is it bad that i think you should be a little more passionate if you consider yourself a geek?

what is wrong with me being surprised if you don't know sakura no ame or saihate or whatever. what is wrong with me thinking that it's weird that even with the biggest producers in the world, you have 0 curiousity to look into their old works?

it's not me being old and cranky, i just think it's a little bad and disrespectful that a lot of new fans just see older songs as inherently worse or not worth their time and use them as a strawman to invent some kind of boomer boogeyman who is going after them for not knowing shiningray or celluloid or ikelenka or whatever. even though honestly you should know them. even if you only listen to it once and decide you don't like it, or hell even just know they exist without listening.

like, songs with millions of views on nnd, i want you to at least familiarize yourself, especially if the producers are still active! at the very least!

whats wrong with me wanting people to enjoy amazing music that built up an entire subculture? made by passionate people who didn't even know the scene could last as long as it did? what's wrong with wanting to share my love with another generation?

i'm not denying that there may be outliers who are rude to other fans, but come the fuck on, stop acting coy about it. you should at least be able to recognize one of either the title, sound or thumbnail of the top 100 songs from 2009. not even KNOW them, just recognize, like is that too much to ask?

like, it's something i personally struggle to understand in general when it comes to interests i'm passionate about. i'm not a pushy person by the way, i don't go around heckling people not even as a joke, so i am not even letting anyone put me in the box of "probably acted pushy and didn't realize and is now mad at the other party". like, this is not directed at casual fans. i am just thinking stuff like "why are you hostile towards the idea of learning more about your interest?" and "why are you hostile towards passionate people who want more people to get into what they like?" and "why pigeonhole yourself? learning more means more fun for you."

because what bothers me the most is that eventually it turns into accusations of "gatekeeping" and "elitism" if anyone voiced their opinion about things. i know how im wording it makes it sound like it personally happened to me but it hasn't it is just what i have observed over the years as someone who gets super into stuff and tries to immerse myself and sees other people get into fights whether its the """elitist""" or the """casual""".

why is it like this? i cannot see why wanting to share is elitism or gatekeeping. maybe elitism sure if the other party feels like they're being targeted for no reason (and im not saying it does not happen). but gatekeeping? why is it gatekeeping? wanting to share what you like with others is gatekeeping? isn't that if you told people NOT to get into it and hid it away?

like, im saying it properly so no one misconstrues what i am saying, but i understand not everyone wants or has the energy to become a big fan of something. there are so many things where i am a very casual fan!! but even then i respect the thing i am into by also acknowledging its history at the very least even if i might not ever play/watch/read/etc all of it or at all.

so like... is it bad? is it bad that i think others should have this respect too? i know this is an issue of low empathy or whatever. i have to run around in circles to understand others. i "get" it, but im also like, why cant they be like me? so i want you to know in no uncertain terms that I GET IT. I GET PEOPLE'S POSITIONS HERE. i have been thinking about this general topic my entire life

so in the end it just turned into a general sort of thing. but yeah, i don't understand why people get so defensive and act so persecuted. am i wrong in my point of view? am i just being an elitist after all? like i simply see it as "i want people to enjoy it too."

like, i thought about this stuff after seeing how passionate ado is about vocaloid. like, she is only 21 years old. she is as old as or slightly older than many new fans (though she had liked vocaloid since elementary school). she is the biggest pop star in japan right now and yet her passion has not waned. not to mention so many younger fans that do have that curiousity too. i used to think its not possible, but i see them in the YT comments, going "im 16 but i really like this era of music" and such.

like, please just open your heart. ignore the boogeymen you're hallucinating and just enjoy slowly... it doesn't have to be a study session. naturally you will just discover more songs you like from those eras

[the-trans-dragon]

I'm not complaining exactly, but. Lol.

When reliable medical sources use the "assigned [sex] at birth" language...

I do appreciate it! When a medical article ignores transgender people, it lessens the credibility for me. If it says "This occurs more in women," I *know* what they are intending to convey, but theyre also telling me, "We studied cis people only." And as a trans person, I need my medical resources to account for my existence, y'know?

So when they say "More likely in people assigned female at birth," it's helpful! I now know that they know I exist, but...they're saying essentially the same thing, ei, "We studied cis people only (probably)."

I realize that there isn't better terminology for this stuff.

I have my own terms for these! And I am eagerly waiting for the medical community to figure out some terms too.

Currently I use "Estrogen-Dominant Hormone System" and "Testosterone-Dominwnt Hormone System." I came with those btw >:3 I'm rather proud of them!! You could also call it "Estrogen-Led Hormone System."

It isn't perfect, but it does ACTUALLY allow "cis women" and "trans people taking 'feminizing'* hormones" to exist in the same category, as opposed to saying "AFAB" and then trying to figure out how to handle any outliers taking 'masculinizing'* hormones.

*I don't really like this word to describe it. I'd personally call it "Estrogen-Dominant HRT" and "Testosterone-Dominant HRT." The latter might be a little redundant, but E-dominant HRTs vary widely, due to the option of using progesterone or androgen-blockers (and other meds that affect hormone levels); and simply calling it "Estrogen HRT" implies that it doesn't involve anything besides estrogen.

It STILL wouldn't INDICATE trans inclusivity, BUT. WHENEVER THEY GET AROUND TO INCLUDING TRANS PEOPLE it'll be very helpful.

It hopefully also accounts for intersex people (not perfectly; but it doesn't work perfectly for trans people; which is to say: it would function BEST as a stepping stone towards more comprehensive terminology).

Lastly, I think it would allow for some spectrums to be considered, rather than a strict binary. I think that, medically, it would be *infinitely* more valuable to consider "sex" in terms of "various hormones, in consideration of some 'normal' ranges and in consideration of the ratios comparing them with other hormones." Example:

ADHD meds and "females." ADHD meds have different efficacy throughout the monthly menstrual cycle. "Because of the way estrogen varies during the cycle." But I want *more* data.

Does estrogen alone change the efficacy?

Is it a combination of multiple hormones that fluctuate?

Is it because "Hormones A increased," or is it because "The Ratio of Hormones A to Hormone B increased?" Did the ratio increase? Maybe the other hormone experienced an even greater increase, causing the ratio to decrease.

I've tried to stitch together some sort of answer, but Im never satisfied with it. It's hard to integrate sources that use different ranges of normal, or that measure with a different unit, or that don't specify enough details to know how to combine it to another source.

I just want science to recognize trans people, and also recognize the actual complex science behind sex, rather than operating as if it's a simple binary with strict characteristics.

So I guess I AM complaining. But not about articles using AFAB/AMAB. I'm complaining about the unresolved limits, and exclusion of trans people.

[train-fans-anonymous]

Im back with answers and more random thoughts, first I'll answer the questions you had from the last ask. Questions will be in blue and answers will be in white/black (depending on your settings)

"Do you think it is because they wouldn’t want to lose their luxuries? are they afraid of living knowing that if they speak up they can be silenced? or do they simply not care about what’s lower than them?"

it's mostly the last reason, it simply doesn't effect them and they don't care all that much unless it effects them in some sort of way. Some do have the other reasons, but it's mostly the last

"Even if they were somehow to find someone willing to undergo a large surgery do you think it’d be safe? would there be people who take advantage of this and charge low with high interest rates to trap someone into servitude?"

It would most likely not be all that safe, with heavy risks of malpractice or outright lying about what they end up doing. I do think it would be safer to go to a Doc who us less well known or has less to gain from lying to them. I actually hadn't thought of that other idea, but now that you mention it I can totally see it happening. I think it would most likely only happen to hyper specific cast mechs, something that is harder to get by normal means.

"Are they shunned by their former friends and followers and do they continue to have the opportunity of luxury AFTER empurata?"

It really depends, it's possible to maintain a mechs status after empurata but it's very hard. If they are well known enough and their appearance is not as important to that they should be OK. (Kind of like how celebrities who do bad things can still remain in good standing)

"Do you think any (probably viewed as insane) noblemechs would display their empurata as like a “message”? or propaganda, trying to express their views."

Yes, if their personality seems to fit and that they hadn't had their personality or anything changed. There is one AU I've seen where they had starscream under go empurata, and he would definitely be the type to show it off as a statement.

"Do you think he experiences phantom pains from his hands like cramping? Or maybe sometimes he’s reach over and knocks something down because he still sometimes “feels” his hand? Is this a point of distress for him?"

Most definitely. I think any mech that gets a replacement connected to their systems or processor they tend to get phantom pains, in the case of Shockwave I think he would just permanently offline the segment of his processor related to the parts of the body he had gotten removed. Along with that I believe Shockwave could manually switch the commands used for his dominate hand to his only remaining hand. It's risky and not anything that a normal mech would consider but Shockwave isn't really a normal mech...

now I have another idea, it's related to the cycle of life for sparks and Somethings related to that.

So, new sparks are more connected to the planet and they lose connection as they grow up. They learn to walk, talk, transform, and the basic things required to live from that early connection, and they can learn and give things they learn to the planet (I think more specifically the well of the all sparks) in their early years. There is exceptions, in partial outliers. They maintain a connection and that is where they get their powers from, most don't know that but its the way they get their powers.

Anyway have fun with that one :]

Sidenote: I have finally found someone who knows what I mean when I say I wanna bite people in a good way

YOOO WERE BACK!!! my favorite time reading time 😎👍 glad to see my biting was well received, be sure to smash that subscribe button and hit the bell if you’d like to see more mutual biting xddd

Aaa it’s sad to hear Shockwave just cuts off the feedback from his hand :((( and also crazy how he pushes his physical body to the limits “It's risky and not anything that a normal mech would consider but Shockwave isn't really a normal mech...” Also bro????!?!! that end bit. Hang on just the thought that he goes out of his way to do things that nobody else would consider for the cause is [mindblown] he’s literally changing himself physically and mentally for what he thinks is best ahanbsebevsbbnnjjjjj

Interesting to hear that Starscream would show off his empurata… Honestly he is the victim of a lot already but I could see him owning it, because despite his struggles he still pushes forward towards his plans.

In addition to your thoughts of the possibility that mechs could maintain their status as empuratees, do you think they might even gain some followers FROM their empurata? Comparison between celebrities is interesting but makes a lot of sense, despite supporting or doing bad things - you can still keep power through any means necessary.

Your comment about “specific class” mechs intrigues me. Is this for mechs with a specific function or hard to come by software? Do you think there’s be essentially a body/hardware trade (like how Lockdown from Animated collects parts and mods from his bounties) in that you could trade some important part of your body or maybe even your function to regain your life? (Maybe similar to Nautica in IDW trying to sell her emotions in exchange for Skids)

This is the part I’m really excited in because I always love seeing how people write Transformers being created: their connection to the planet reminds me a lot of things like going immersant from IDW2 where bots who feel accomplished in life give their body and mind back to Cybertron. Interesting how they gather data, knowledge, and power from the planet. Do you think if a bot were to be born nearer to like the helex they’d develop differently or have different knowledge than someone from protohex? what about Cybertron’s moons? Do certain areas of Cybertron have a higher yield for outlier sparks?

Thanks for taking the time to answer the questions and to write more, this is really fun to keep up with. And yet again sorry for not receiving the notification 🫡 we stan tumblr mobile web version in this household (lying)

[classicjdiesandgoestohell]

Extremely Unnecessarily Long Disjointed Ramble About My Identity

ive never felt happy with my queer identity at all. i know you dont need labels but being labeless wasnt freeing either, it never felt any better.. not any worse, but just the same feeling of ambivalence to my own existence.

one thing i never see discussed is the influence of community in how you describe yourself. this is so obvious, we talk about this with peer pressure and other personality traits, but its heavily affected my queer identity too. my sexuality has always been kinda fuzzy, ive been bouncing between being bi and lesbian and gay since the beginning of time, but between those 3 groups the appeal of the lesbian community was always so much higher. i liked the sense of closeness i never experienced in my trans/gay/bi identity, i liked how more trans inclusive it felt, my lesbian friends were always much more proud of their identities than other people, i liked the freedom of not being at all shackled to men. But i dont really know if lesbian fits my sexuality. no fucking clue. i just know socially id rather be a lesbian in social circles than anything else. i feel like an imposter almost. when i identify as bi i dont feel like an imposter, but im always really unhappy with the choice and feel like it doesnt accurately represent me at all. i dont feel like i relate to other bi people.

with my transness.. for 3 years i ID'd as a binary trans man. it never felt quite right, i felt like i didnt try hard enough to be a man, there were too many things i held onto from living as a girl that i didnt know if id ever want to let go. i switched to thinking of myself as nonbinary transmasc, not really at all connected to feminity but not strictly calling myself a man. this was alright but i always felt the indecisiveness of sometimes wanting to be a man and sometimes wanting to be free from it all together, it didnt feel good either. right now ive abandoned any notions of gender, just that im not a Girl, and whether that means im feminine or masculine or androgynous it doesnt matter. this is maybe the worst ive ever felt about my gender and has affirmed to me i probably am at least transmasc, if not completely a trans Man.

ive always rlly felt the shame of being transmasc. i feel like i betrayed womanhood or whatever even though i didnt fit into that either. i was an ugly obvious outlier in any space i tried to be a girl. i think id rather be a girl, i see the appeal of it so much more. i feel stupid for not wanting to be a girl when i enjoy the experience so much more. even though i Know identity is not something you choose, even though i Know every single person has a different thing thats right for them, it feels so much more justified to me to want to be a girl - whether you have to transition that way or were just born into it - than to want anything to do with masculinity. i dont know.

i have some internalized hatred to work out but it sucks when i see people reinforcing it. terfs call testosterone evil and talk about trans men betraying womanhood. transmascs frequently say stupid shit online (transmisogny, as well as generally being insanely discourse minded), and i know im not the monolith, im not the whole group, but it makes me feel stupid for wanting to be grouped with those people. this definitely ties into my completely unrelated issue of feeling personally responsible for shit that i didnt do, for people pleasing all the time and my desire to be liked by literally everyone. And then also in my head i go Ahhhh youre dividing people into arbitrary categories again... Youre deciding certain archetypes of transmasc suck even when you dont know the person personally and then i feel disappointed in myself again for being so generalizing. especially when i understand how they got to those conclusions or have thought them myself at some point.

now 90% of my friends are trans girls and its changed my perception of community again. i feel like transmascs dont have the same sense of closeness like that, or maybe we do, and i just dont feel it since i dont engage with my own community much anymore. maybe as an outsider i percieve more solidarity than actually exists (although between my friends & social media discourse im not at all unaware of infighting). maybe i just feel left out or lost wherever i go i guess. maybe it is just a me issue.

to add onto the i dont engage with my own community bit, i remember when i used to follow many transmasc artists and all their ocs and such were transmasc too. i strayed away from this for a few reasons. i remember some discourse in 2022 about how trans male artists get so much more attention online and how no one supports trans womens art, and i felt bad almost for engaging with my own community. i know that other peoples communities are not a threat to my own, and ive always supported trans womens art too, but i felt bad about the 1 single time i ever felt connected to other trans men. i felt bad consuming all this male content, and consequently stopped. that was also around the same time my sexuality shifted from feeling like a gay or bi man, to being a nonbinary lesbian, so i felt disconnected from a lot of gay transmasculine art as well.

a lot of my issue with identity is discourse and its so stupid man. i know its stupid to say out loud but constantly being surrounded by it gets to my head sometimes. it feels especially stupid as someone who doesnt even rlly engage with it, instead i just read thread after thread reply after reply and feel Bad with no outlet. i remember over the years seeing posts about how people drawing transmasc surgery scars felt empty and meaningless, because it didnt attempt to represent any other part of the transmasculine experience and i felt bad for enjoying that symbol. i loved seeing top scars in art and on people and then i felt weird about it, even though logically i know the importance of those things is not diminished by random people online saying its Hollow.

it always feels like discourse tries to pit trans men and women against eachother and it sucks. (with obvious exceptions, sometimes trans men really are ignorant & talking over or erasing transmisogny). ive never once with my transfem friends felt like i was at odds against them. learning other peoples experiences is extremely important to me, and ive often found we have very similar experiences too, even on stuff i wouldnt expect to have parallels for. it sucks that i literally go outside and touch grass everyday and interact with Real Queer People, and yet still the discourse worms infest themselves into my brain...

being completely unlabeled and being free is fine in a box, until im forced to adhere back to reality by the fact i live with other people. i can think of my own actions as genderless or etc in my own bubble, maybe even with friends, but when i go back into the world and am crammed and perceived into places i dont want to be, i feel bad again. maybe i havent experienced the true joys of being labeless when i still care about peoples perception of me. its hard not to when its your everyday at school and work.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

Please review anon's warnings before continuing.

note: I am not a mental health professional. I'm not aware of every aspect of your life. I may say something that isn't applicable in your situation. And, finally, reminder that I too am a human being with a past. Be respectful and mindful of that.

tw: su*c*de, sh, bad body image

-

hi wiyllt

im tired. exhausted. drained. i feel crazy and obsessive. i got my academic results a few days ago and wow i havent cried like that in forever. in forEVER. i bawled, lowkey wailed about them. the worst part is theyre objectively really fucking good marks. 96% is not a joke. i am just so disappointed in myself for them. worst part is school's plastered the toppers faces up LITERALLY every corridor, completely forgetting the fact that there was a student who committed su*c*de just two weeks ago, after failing their exams.

ive been so depressed its affecting everything. i feel everything in every way possible. i feel doomed with my friendships, with my relationship, my future, everything. i hate myself like this. last month i got back into my sh habit and everythings going downhill so fast. i want to feel okay again. bad body image has been plaguing my mind and ive been binging on food since last month. ive been crying so much and been just such a mess in school and at home. i am so fuckign depressed i dont even know at this point.

did i mention i havent gotten my period in twenty fucking days.

I'm going to address this bottom to top.

Your period is affected by many things, both physical and mental health. My period is always late when I'm stressed. When I was at the height of my depression, my period came about every 40 days. I thought I was lucky. No. I was fucked up. Your body pours its finite resources for what it perceives as a threat first before going back to its usual routine programming. Sometimes your cycle jumps even when you're perfectly healthy. In nature, there will be outliers and that applies to ovulation too. Just happens. Track your cycle and see a gynecologist if there is a pattern.

To break your self-harm habit, you must remove your tools from your presence. They must be thrown away or difficult to get to. The first step to breaking a habit is making it not easy to do. The second is redirection, preferably to a healthier place such as creation. But I'm not an idiot and I know it is human to simply just pick a differemt self-destructive habit. Believe me, there are many ways to hurt yourself and ruin your life. You must draw a line at this. Do not cross it. Every time you want to do it, write down every reason you want to do it. Burn, rip, mangle the paper. Destroy it until it's unreadable. Keep writing. You better have millions of reasons and none of them will ever justify you doing something like that to yourself. None. Remember this next time and every time you want to do it thereafter.

Yeah, I'm telling you to give up. This, specifically.

Yes, you will still make bad decisions. Yes, life is still gonna suck ass. Yes, you will treat yourself like shit in other ways.

I did.

I don't know anyone who can just stop being depressed. You won't suddenly become a born-again human unaffected by their past (idk, maybe you're an alien, not sure how their biology works, I'll do some probing and report back). Even now I catch myself in moments where I slip back into old habits and thought processes.

You are responsible for yourself. You are responsibile for the bad choices you have made and will make. I know that is not fun. That is not what we want to do. Hell, I have no idea if a certified therapist / psychologist / psychiatrist will agree with me on this, but I'm gonna give it to you straight - the one who has to deal with the consequences of what you do is you.

I spent a lot of time blaming anything and everything, especially life for dealing me shit cards. I didn't ask to be born. I didn't ask for two decades of emotional and physical abuse. But I did what I did. I did fucked up shit. Things will fall apart. You will cry and bleed trying to put it all back together and it might be in vain. You will wonder, when does it get better?

It gets better when you take a moment and ask yourself, "What do I want?"

Not, what are the impossible expectations I have for myself right now? Not, what does everyone else want me to be? Not, here's all the things that are wrong with me and reasons I cannot achieve anything of substance or value. Shut those up for a second. You said, "i want to feel okay again." You can't feel how you felt in the past and anyway, by now, you've glamorized it to something better than it was. Plus, "to feel okay" is a bit vague. Also it kinda gives off meh energy (sorry, but it kinda does). You need something specific.

"I want to repair my relationship with (insert here)."

This can be anything. People, food, school, etc, but you need to focus on one thing at a time. You need to prioritize what it is that is most important to you right now. Don't set a bar for where you want to be at a certain time. Only focus on improvement. Some things may fall to the wayside and that's okay. You can't do everything. When you feel like you're in a good place with one thing, move on to something else. Go back and check on it periodically and search for minor improvements.

It sounds nice, but it might not look pretty while you're doing it. Life is life. There will be setbacks. Every situation, aak yourself, "What is the best version of myself I can be right now?" Not what was or will be, but right now. That might be something great or that might be getting into bed and going to sleep. Sometimes it be like that. Do one more thing than you would if you were feeling just a teensy bit better.

"I'm going to bed instead of studying, but I will set up my desk so it's ready for me in the morning."

"I'll eat one less today. I'm still gonna eat it."

"I'm gonna cry right now. I'll do something about it after. But first I'm gonna cry."

Little by little decision, you can more forward to a place you are more satisfied with. There will always be hardships. Always. But you can control how you react to them and how you deal with them. It might feel like you can't but that's because you need to direct your focus on specifics - what you can do rather than what is out of your control. To be the best version of yourself is to actively understand that you will not always make the perfect decision. It gets better. It gets worse. You are a different person each time. You learn from your past. Do the best that you can right now. Prioritize yourself. Live this life as if there is only one.

Time doesn't come back.

Be mindful of the past and the future, but don't forget to live right now. You'll miss important stuff.

[blog-of-reaction]

ANTMAN AND THE WASP: QUANTUMANIA SPOILERS

More unasked for thoughts on this movie. (Except this time I remember to put it on my thoughts about movie/shows blog instead of my main)

I wish the og? Kang had survived. Like, I’m sure the other Kang’s are cool, but I really liked him as the villain. Also, with Kang being the big and of phase five. (Is it phase 4 or 5? I honestly don’t know.) with him being the big bad though, I can’t help but feel like killing off the Kang that literally all of the other Kang’s were so scared of they banished him to the quantum realm was a mistake. Like, they already (most likely) successfully took down him, how are other Kang’s who aren’t as scary going to feel like much of a threat?

Especially since there will be multiple. Like, I realize the Kang we’ve seen so far could be an outlier, but I’m not so sure they wont be able to be divided against each other. (Then again, them being divided against each other would most likely cause just as much if not more damage then them working together, given the whole monologue at the end of Loki.)

Also, Cassie was great and I love her.

I’m not necessarily an expert on Modok but I liked the what they did with him. Also, the part where Scott asked “Shouldn’t it be Modofk?” was perfect. Ive literally asked myself the same thing ever since he showed up in EMH.

I really liked the family dynamic they had in the movie.

Hope and Scott’s relationship actually had like, some real substance to it this time. Granted, it is very little but their romance is still much more believable than in the previous movies. (Which I mean the bar could not be lower there and it still feels a bit like “what?” but not as much as in the previous movies. Their relationship is mostly like, subtly implied and definitely supported and kind of lifted up via the overall family dynamic everyone had, but it still felt a bit forced at the end. I am slowly coming around to it maybe though? Like, I no longer passively dislike it. Instead I passively accept it.

The side characters were great, fun to see, and I loved them. I actually teared up when torture laser beam for a head guy was killed.

There were a few brilliant scenes that I especially enjoyed or found funny.

First off, like, just put yourself in Scott Lang’s shoes for a minute. All sorts of things weird unbelievable stuff has happened in your life and now you’re in the quantum realm and you lost sight of your daughter after being captured by these strange quantum realm people. And then when he finally sees her, he sees this teenage girl with what looks like blood dripping down her chin and she just cheerily says

“Drink the ooze!”

And then the camera cuts away. Hilarious.

“Those buildings are alive?!”

“What, are yours dead?” said with genuine concern. Beautiful.

The surprise actor for Chidi and pretty much everything when it came to his telepathy.

“How many holes do you?”

*excitedly after being shot a lot* “I HAVE HOLES” and then turning into a vacuum cleaner and just straight up going eldritch something on these guys

Also, Darren’s death. My response to that entire conversation was basically to laugh and ask myself what the fuck? I’m pretty sure Darren said some of that stuff just to mess with Scott but I’m not sure.

I want revenge and im going to kill you and your daughter! “You’re being a dick.” “Yeah but I don’t know what else to do.” “…just stop” great idea, thanks. And immediately doing a 180 and helping your previous sworn enemies.

Also, Kang was great, and a good villain and I was actually like, a bit scared of him. I mean, I still havent seen Wakanda Forever (I know and I hate that about me too) so I can’t comment on Namor and while Killmonger was a good MCU villain Kang is a good villain. And like, those are two very different things. So that was refreshing to see.

Back to Kang I don’t know how the rest of this phase will play out. Like, how will the, for lack of a better term, council of Kang, react and what will they do? Besides maybe destroying the multiverse according to prime Kang. (Speaking of, the Kang in this is just like, a younger version then the one that Sylvie killed in Loki right? It’s never outright stated but it seems pretty clear.)