#so i might be going all in on the lore for this. there's even more i'll explain later but i figure it's MY dollhouse and why not go crazy

[popironrye]

The Lost Boys

Leisure Headcanons

💋 David 💋

Is a skilled fire arm shooter. (Loves the cowboy aesthetic)

Has his own gun hidden in the cave.

Doesn't get the chance too often, but will ride a horse when the chance arises.

Likes wood carving. Mostly non specific whittling into basic shapes or animals. It helps him relax.

Movie nut! When the boys go the Max's store to fool around, David makes sure to tuck a movie or two that catches his eye in his coat. Tends to watch them alone, all the questions from Paul would just grate on his nerves too much.

I imagine David would be like REALLY good at origami for no particular reason. He doesn't even try, just once the boys do it just because and he's just the best at it.

I don't know if vampires can emerge in water in the lost boys lore, but if they can David loves to swim. Chilling in water clears his mind.

💀 Dwayne 💀

Skater boi! Does a lot of sick tricks, but when you can levitate it's less impressive. XD

Doesn't care for guns, but likes archery. Hammers his own arrow heads. Dwayne and David like to pick a spot in the woods to shoot make shift targets.

A real book worm. Will spend a lot of time just silently reading for hours.

Takes up knitting from time to time. He prefers hand knitted blankets and throws rather then the store ones.

Likes to make jewelry. Made his own necklace.

Enjoys all types of puzzles. Cross word, jigsaw, and brain teasers.

Can sew and offers to sew up holes made in all the clothes the boys decide not to get new ones.

🌿 Paul 🌿

Can play the guitar.

Also likes to sing, and is pretty good at it. Wanted to start a band, but the other boys weren't up for it.

Has the biggest music collection and is always hogging the tabletop/cassette/cd player.

Amateur photography. Just likes to take photos randomly. Some are really artsy.

Got really into tie dye for a while. Although he might have just been high.

When he wants to relax, Paul really likes to stargaze. Laying outside the cave looking at the sky and hearing the waves of the ocean just makes him feel at peace.

When David isn't using the tv monitor, Paul enjoys quite a few video games. He also likes to take on the arcade and carnival games at the boardwalk.

🪶 Marko 🪶

Aside from pigeons, Marko will try to domesticate a number of animals to the cave, including stray dogs, cats, deer, badgers, squirrel, foxes, bats, and even a black bear once.

He did in fact not domesticate a black bear, but he did wrestle one.

He does his own patchwork on his jacket.

Like David, he likes to sculpt into wood, but he usually carves patterns and landscapes into more grand pieces.

He's also a skilled painter. Mostly he'll paint murals on sections of the cave David says is ok for him to paint on.

He collects sea shells on the beach.

He'll style the others hair. Especially David who he'll cut and dye in the way he likes best.

🔥Pack Activities🔥

Dart throwing. The bigger the target the better. David and Dwyane are very competitive at this one specifically.

Rollerblading. Put wheels on shoes, what more can you want?

Listening to music. The boys have very wide music tastes and sometimes they cross over and they all like the same stuff. They take turns around the player of their choice to just smoke, drink, and listen to the sounds of the music plays.

Card games. Specifically poker when they're all together. They make things more interesting when they make bets.

And of course motocycle cruising and board walk loitering.

Something that always strikes me with vampires in fiction and indeed with any immortal creature with the high and emotional intelligence of humans. IMMORTALITY IS FUCKING BORING!

I mean, think about it. Imagine you're given all the free time in the world with very little responsibility with no fear of getting sick or tired allowed to do pretty much whatever you want. What would you do? Cause I would go stir crazy. So I came up with these dumb little head canons on how I image the boys specifically would pass the time in their little vampire lives that doesn't revolve around murdering and feeding off of people.

Of course cruising on their bikes come to mind. And there's a couple in the movie we get to see like Dwayne's skateboarding and Marko's fondness for pigeons but I wanted to throw more possibilities out there. :3

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Ok regarding that “can i make Yves do my homework if I give him my childhood pictures” ask, exactly how much access does Yves have to our lives? Does he have images or videos from when we were still a baby or would they be new information to him?

A bunch of my baby pictures and videos are lost because my dad lost the computer that had them but we recently found my aunt’s old camera filled with our childhood pictures, it was a pleasant surprise for us but would it be for Yves too?

It absolutely is. If Yves was there with you while your aunt showed you the photo gallery of her old camera, Yves would momentarily lose a bit of inhibition and let his pupils dilate to a maddening degree before instantly constricting it back to appear normal. It's a rare, super deluxe edition photos of you, there isn't anything else like it out there as they're most likely not uploaded to the internet or a cloud based service, where he could easily hack.

Him coming across media from your childhood or at least during those early days where people still go to and get their photos developed, is like winning the lottery for him. Because, although he tries to collect everything relating to your existence, there is only so much he can do in a day. He rather prioritizes the present and the future, as the past is the past; neither you nor him can change it, he can only understand or connect it to your current behaviours or thought patterns.

He does have some information about you as a baby or a child, but that is if they're "readily available" to him. (I.e., it can be found in predictable places like in your childhood home.), that is why, Yves would try to build a good relationship with people you grew up with, to extract information.

Despite being reclusive as he is, Yves would never fail to attend every and any family gathering he is invited to or expected to come. Encouraging that drunk uncle to drink more if he knew he has something to say about you, bribing your relatives with gifts and career opportunities, perhaps even drugging that really difficult and combative cousin to make them more bearable to interrogate.

As soon as he knew your aunt could be another goldmine of your data, he would get to work. Wasting no time building a rapport with her, it's a piece of cake given how obsessive and manipulative his nature is.

Inevitably, your aunt will come to love him and see Yves as family. By extension, her relationship with you will skyrocket too, she will invite you to her place much more often even though she might not be the most sociable person in the first place. Yves will find a way to make her bend to his whims.

The majority of their conversations would be about you, only sometimes Yves would talk about something else if it meant he could keep the drive to spill more about your lore going. His sharp ears and mind will pick up on clues as to where he might find more pictures or writings about you. He would then break into your aunt's home to give it a thorough shakedown and leave without a trace. Yves would repeat this process until he's positive that she has nothing left to offer. That camera is getting fucking stolen and replaced with a duplicate.

It didn't matter if your aunt was a minimalist or a severe hoarder, he would go through all her things just to try and find pieces of your puzzle. He would wade through cobwebs, dust piles, rat droppings and mould if he had to, Yves isn't scared to get dirty to obtain what he wants, "squeamish" isn't in his vocabulary.

When she is robbed of all your essence, Yves would become distant. Not hostile towards her, just cold and indifferent. He would still maintain some sort of relationship with her though, in case she becomes useful again later. As of now, he either puts his entire focus on your current peripheral and direct life, or start to hunt other members down- from his snooping, he had learned of other people who may have valuable input about your childhood.

All of this is happening in the background. You wouldn't suspect a thing, there wasn't a dip in his attention for you. In fact, he may have gotten a lot more smothering, as Yves would be shaking at the thought of testing out his new theories and hypothesis that were birthed from his new knowledge.

He just loves you so much that he couldn't help himself but to get greedy. Yves wants all of you; past, present and future. And any version of you that could have been.

[mysadblacksoul]

Backslide - 3/13 of the Clancy album

Grab a coffee and let's start this madness

MV

Tyler is wearing the same clothes that he wore in Overcompensate MV to I would assume that this MV takes place right after

Let's break down the signs first

We see the return of Ned Bayou as well as FPA, now standing for Food Petrol Etc.

You can buy 9 buns for $21, love the symbolism

There is a Jim sign omg. Baby is having his own bubblegum business

Of course the Bishops sign with 9 lines marked on it

I could've sworn that the black sign says "Dema Vapes", but looking closely I believe it's "Velma Vapes" lol

What is more, the cones (?) are yellow and I'm pretty sure that the fact that there are 5 of them is not an accident

They sold him bread that went bad lol. Nah for sure it's not the case since he gives the same bread to a child

But I believe that the scene and the lyrics are closely tied with Stressed Out

Now the next scene is interesting

I think that the bad weather is a simple metaphor for feelings of anxiety or fear

We can see that Tyler was contemplating then he was suddenly pulled from his thoughts

This is when the scene changes to normal, right? Exactly on the line It's over my head

Then we move to the scene with the kid

And I really believe that this little lad is personification of Ned

Like he has the same boba eyes lol

No but for real, this is parallel to Chlorine - kid is giving Tyler a cup just like Tyler gave to Ned. Yet he accepts it and drinks whatever is inside and Ned just shudders

Another interesting thing, that could make my point more valid is that the kid literally asks Is that a stain? You should change / Are you doin' good? / Did you solve all of your problems? like he knows Tyler very well and is in a way looking out for him

It's like he's keeping Ned by him - okat I'll stop

It might be a stretch, but the N kinda looks like a mirrored band symbol, do you also see it?

If 0.75c is equivalent to the cost of one bun than Tyler is being ripped off since he paid $21 for the pack instead of $6.75 lmao

Something is really wrong with those buns lmao

Then the mood changes again, but this time is even worse. Like his mental health is declining even more and even faster

The bread is wet, the day is ruined, thanks Mr. Joseph

You killed it Josh, love your creative mind

*funny music stops*

Now let's talk about the way how the MV is looping itself

I would say that it is a demonstration of the twisted circle that is life

Maybe it's a very basic analysis but I think of all the complicated lore-oriented MVs this one is uncomplicated

What is shown here is how our psyche can play tricks on us and how we can complicate a rather simple situation ourselves

If Tyler hadn't had dark thoughts then nothing would have happened to the bread, so he would have just gone and given it to Josh

This shows how our psyche itself can abolish the situation in which we find ourselves

Looping, on the other hand, shows that as long as we don't do anything about it ourselves, we will be stuck in this fishbowl (see what I did there?)

Maybe it's one big AD to check your mental health and a sign to try to get better

Lyrics!

Rat race, place to place, adding weight / Tendencies on repeat, innit? - rat race for sure happened in Dema, and repeat is literaly the loop, innit meand that Clancy is canonicaly British

Benefit from a shoe with no lace - shoe with no lace would make you fall back on the behaviour that you are running from

Take the seat with the crease in it - seat of someone who already tried to change their life, or even who had the same dreams and hopes for better future like Clancy

This could be parallel to When I leave, don’t save my seat/ I’ll be back when it’s all complete from Chlorine

I don't care, you control me / Leading me anywhere - well, all I should say is Dema don't control me and we all know the rest of the story

I don't wanna backslide to where I've started from - he doesn't wanna go back to his back habits as well as doesn't wanna go back to his life before he tried to escape

There's no chance I will shake this again - if he falls back one more time that will be the end of him. His psyche won't take it anymore and his plans will be buried

'Cause I feel the pull, water's over my head - this is parallel to Fall Away And I, I can feel the pull begin. But it also gives me the parallel to Holding On To You MV, the scene with the rope

Strength enough for one more time - like I said, this would be the last attempt to change everything

Reach my hand above the tide - it could indicate that his physical strength is also wearing out

I'll take anything you have / If you could throw me a line - again with the line. But it also can mean that he can endure anything now, he just needs a little helping hand

I should've loved you better - this line can be directed both to himself but also to the person who extends his hand to help. He might not have appreciated both parts before and now regrets it

Do you think that now's the time / You should let go? - This line is like both a request and an apology. As if he wants to say “I'm sorry I treated you badly before but please don't leave me when I need help”

Bad place, on a hundred-dollar bass - this line is also giving me Stressed Out. You can imagine the cheap bass being transported on the bicycle right?

Kinda wishin' that I never did "Saturday" - I think that he doesn't mean the MV irl lol, but the regret of taking part in Bishops' manipulation altogether

Is that a stain? You should change - a play with mentioning Saturday and the lirycs She said that I should change my clothes

Are you doin' good? / Did you solve all of your problems? - like I said before I believe that this is Ned looking out for Clancy, wishing him well

Thanks for asking, in a way, but / Accidentally uncovered a new one yesterday - safe to say that he is not doing better lol

What happened to what I brushed under the rug? - what happened to how well he used to be able to hide his problems and true feelings

I used to be the champion of a world you can't see / Now I'm drowning in logistics - if viewed as a fact that he created this world it now looks like he wants to regain all control over it. Logistics is to take care of the management of planning. And once again we see the mention of drowning

The bridge is acting as an externalization of his myhs and fears that even if he is outside the Dema, the Bishops will still have control over him

The entire song is about both regaining conrol over the world of Dema but also regaining control over himself, his psyche.

The main theme is about not going back to old habits.

The most important thing here is progress and pushing forward.

Because one wrong move can make all the work in vain and we will sink to the very bottom.

Safe to say that I liked it haha

[cherubispunk]

NEPHILIM: THE FALLEN - Jackson-era!Joel Miller x AFAB!Reader

summary: fallen or damned? who's to tell when it's joel miller?

a note from Lucy: DONT HATE ME I KNOW ITS BEEN A LONG TIME!! Not entirely happy with this but it's been sitting in my docs for months now and i had to get it out there to give me some peace of mind so please be aware it may well be riddle with grammatical mistakes and typos galore. as always like, comment and reblog to save a sinners sanity!

playlist | moodboard + poem

wc: 2755

Warnings: 18+ MDNI DARK CONTENT! Jackson era!post outbreak!Joel, no use of y/n, reader is referred to as ‘Bambi’, verbally constipated Joel Miller, brief gore descriptions, heavy religious imagery and references to the bible, biblical lore, yearning, idiots in love, angst angst angst!!!!!!, bombastic age gap!!! yahhhhh! (reader is in her 20’s/ Joel is in his late 50’s), smut, oral sex (m! receiving), rough oral sex, possessive!joel, dom!joel/sub!reader dynamic, you know the drill with my writing, there’s probably some form of cannibalism as a metaphor, or brutal violence as a metaphor, religious imagery as a metaphor, etc. (aka, fancy word vomit) - Lucy crying over a bloody google doc :)

series masterlist | m.list

Ephesians 2:3 Among them we too all formerly lived in the lusts of our flesh, indulging the desires of the flesh and of the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, even as the rest.

The sky was bruised. It was like God– or whatever resided up there– knew. The grey clouds, and the garish yellow of the setting sun, and the deep blue that ebbed into purple…they all knew. Your heart ached too. Bruised. It seemed to crack a little more each day. What started as nothing more than a hairline fracture had split into a gaping, weeping slice. Why? Because Joel was always quiet. For such a large man he had a ghostly habit of creeping into a room without notice. Creeping into your heart too through your hollow ribs. You could feel him behind you now though. His breath thick on the nape of your neck and it cooled the thin sheen of sweat on your skin. Soothed your burning flesh while saving it from the inferno. The tension became bearable. These little spaces of empty matter between all else. That slight awkwardness about his usual stoic yet confident demeanour…it was endearing now.

You were easing into the silence, content with watching the bruise darken from purple to midnight blue. The sky would turn on its bright little stars, and the moon would slice through sapphire as the early evening aged. The sun was going to rest now, the greying moon taking its post to watch over the town. You should follow the sun’s direction. Close your eyes so as to not have to witness his all too soon departure.

His fingers, so gentle, so strong, gently traced the curve and divot of your hip under the covers. It was strange to think just moments prior they had been inside you. Making you feel boneless in bed.

“Bambi?” He asked, tentative and uncharacteristically uncertain. He loathed it; the change in him.

“Mhm?” You hummed lazily, your hands tucked under the pillow to keep them warm, knees curled up to your chest. But no answer nor following question came. You knew what it was. He was cramming something back down his throat before he had the chance to say it for fear of being out of line. One day it shall choke him blue. He was strung so tightly. Tension in his shoulders that made them rise uncomfortably. And you noticed this when you turned to face him. Neither of you spoke for a moment, as if you were fooling yourself into believing he might continue. Your heart cracked a little more when he turned to face the wall,

“Never mind. It’s nothin’.” He had no reason to be weary of you. However in the past few weeks, coming up to a month, there was subtle, almost imperceptible unease that lingered. And festered. Palpable. Tangible. You could feel it when you reached out to touch his skin. So warm and gorgeous. Golden like ichor in this setting sunlight. You dared to press your lips to the wing of a shoulder blade, skin mangled with scar tissue where you liked to imagine wings once resided, and felt him flinch under your featherlight kiss. “Don’t, Bambi.”

“Joel-“

“I said: No.” His voice was firm, and didn’t give much leeway for convincing. “It’s not somethin’ you know how to fix.” But you were stubborn now. You’d found your feet. You stood your ground more, imitated behaviour. Before he could turn away again you reached to right him, set him flat on his back upon the mattress and splay your hand over his soft stomach under the covers. His throat tightened when your hand ventured timidly south. Then his breath tangled in his throat when it wrapped loosely around his half hard cock. Gently stroking it until it stood to attention in your palm. “Let me help…the way I know how.” You whispered into his ear, running your tongue under his earlobe to bring it between your teeth. Voice like honey, so sweet, and smooth, and slow pouring enough to get stuck in. Jesus Fucking Christ, he hated himself for even entertaining the idea of letting you do this for him. For being the one to help you find your feet. For being the man who tarnished innocence. It seemed all he did these days was ruin what little good there was left in the world. He’d taken an entire inkpot to a pristine sheet of paper, splattered black all over it without a care in the world until now. He felt like the space between you was stygian and reeked of his own sin. It simmered and spat and writhed and any moment now I would boil over the second you came to terms with the fact you were too good for him.

His nostrils flared with the thought but with a twist of your wrist he melted. Because at the base of it all, the very depth of his humanity, he was a selfish, selfish man. You watched a swallow pass down the thick column of his throat and rested your head on his shoulder while your hand dragged up his thick, full shaft, thumb smearing a bead of precome over the delicate flushed skin of its head. Joel watched the ceiling and wallowed in pathetic self pity as you kissed your way down his navel, lips moving in a mumbling of words he couldn't quite hear. He let out a breathy moan when you wrapped your lips around the tip, pressing your tongue flat to the underside to let the taste seep onto your tongue. He then closed his eyes trying to imagine anyone other than you between his legs. Another mouth. Another tongue. Someone else's voice.

It was no use because it seemed your eyes, the shade, the shape, were printed to the back of his lids. He gave up. He was too old to try to partake in sisyphean tasks.

Joel sat up and you moved between his legs as he threw the covers off to watch you. His back to the headboard, your warm mouth inviting him deeper, he hesitated to press a hand to the crown of your head, but when you pulled off to lick a flat tongued strip from base to tip, he found himself taking a fist of your hair and righting you over the head completely, pushing down so he slipped into your mouth. Muscle memory had the twitch of a smirk forming at the corner of his lips. The sight of you was enough to have his hips begging to buck, chasing the back of your throat, attempting to find that reaction again.

What you couldn't take of him you wrapped loosely in one hand and the other cupped his balls, adding the slightest pressure that had a dirty cuss passing his chapped lips. Deep inhales billowed in his nose, nostrils flared slightly as he dragged your open, salivating mouth up and down on his length. What he would never understand is how much you hungered for this every time. There was a pain in wanting him like no other, and a reward this great sowed the seed of pleading. You didn’t mind yearning for him because, to you, being hungry was quite a satisfying feeling. It feels nice to want something. To yearn. To have a purpose. You imagined he felt quite the same with the way he could hardly keep his hands from your cunt or your mouth when you passed his front door’s threshold.

“Look at me, Bambi.” He grunted, and your eyes fluttered slightly before the hue of them locked on his through your tear clumped lashes. “I’d like this mouth a whole lot more if it didn’t say such pretty things to me.” He almost lamented, and you felt a tug at your heartstrings. “Makin’ a man hope again.”

Joel sighed, eyes closing for the briefest second. His large hand was still pushing your head with the gentlest of force back down, then his fingers gripped at your hair, dragging you again so the warm, silken touch of your lips and tongue made the fire in his belly start to burn. It was aching, and deep rooted, and had a slow simmer to it. One he begged to hurry along. Joel wanted nothing more than his release so he could set you free again. Set the bird free of its cage. So he threw caution to the wind, and soon you felt the tip of his thick cock reach the back of your mouth again, your throat constricting. “Why won’t you hate me, huh Bambi? What did I do to deserve this?” He asked. If you knew no better you’d have thought his tone implied he hated it. His teeth gritted, words seethed between them. He spat it out in a way that made him seem unworthy of your attention— or the very taste of the thought disgusted him and made his stomach pull up in a wretch. Joel bit down so violently on nothing he swore his molars might turn to dust and clag in spit with the way he was salivating over the sight of you; Puffy lips, bloodshot watering eyes, messy hair. Bent over him and sucking on his cock like it was your only goddamned purpose in life.

You wanted to reply, splutter out the words, but he silenced you. The tip of his cock brushing the back of your throat, and causing your stomach to recoil, tensing as you gagged. Retching slightly as he grimaced at the sound. “You know I can’t love y–” he stopped mid sentence as the ache bloomed into a deep burn. You were oh so grateful because it meant you wouldn’t have to hear what you yearned not to. What you buried deep beneath your stomach and above your diaphragm— that slow, blooming ache. The feeling would never see the light of day. You’d rather die than come to terms with the fact that Joel would not be yours. He belonged to the world. The mass of nature that befell you. That which kept you human and incompetent. He was large, untamable, and oh so delectable in all ways other than matters of love. Joel Miller could not love you.

“Fuck- gonna come, Bambi.” He choked out, head falling back. You looked up at the sight of him through your lashes, lips parted, his brows creased gently in the space between them. Just as you yearned for him to love you, you yearned to be destroyed by him. Coated in him, broken down to pieces by him. Joel Miller could quite literally break you in half, then half again, and again— to the point where nothing was discernible— and you'd get on your knees to thank him for it all. Maybe loving him and being destroyed by him were two in the same?

In the months you’d known him you’d grown to learn that this was as close to a purpose as you’d get. The world robbed you of one, so you searched for it. Selfish enough to keep digging to find one. Only it had no purpose. It has a pattern now, and patterns trick and deceive people into believing in divine intervention. Joel was your divine right. Your purpose. That was what you believed. What you thought about each night. What you thought about now as you took his cock down to the base, the head of him brushing the back of your throat and folds soaked– drenched in the essence of your own arousal. All of which was emphasised by the ache you felt between your thighs that ebbed a little deeper with wanting. A ghost of the pleasure you felt when he was inside you. You entertained it with two fingers slipping between your thighs, teasing your clit. “God— Bambi…” He groaned, eyes rolling back in his head as he let go. Hot ropes of his release flooding your mouth with their heady, salty taste.

You pulled off his shaft, now wet and slick in your own saliva, swallowing a mouthful of his release. His eyes never left you, honing in on the ripple of your delicate throat as you swallowed his come down. Joel couldn't help but hook a thumb into your mouth to unhinge your jaw— to see if anything was left. Nothing was. There never was. Like him, you were too selfish to leave anything.

He should have known better. You never disappoint. “Bambi, you’re too damn good for me.” he panted, skin sweat slick and flushed.

“I promise I'm not.” you whispered to the skin of his lips before he wrapped a large, steadying hand around your arm and pulled you up to his chest. His face met yours and when you looked into those hickory eyes you could have melted on the spot; For the hue of them was nothing like you'd ever seen before, and could command nations to their knees. And if not nations then it could certainly do so to you. “I’m just as damaged as you.`’

The words had his gut in knots because they were akin to holding up a mirror to his visage. And holding his head in place. Holding it still so he was forced to look himself in the eyes and reflect. Reflecting on the monster he’d become. The monster he would always be.

“I’m not asking you to love me, Joel.” You spoke, your voice quiet, slight and timid. Uncertain of his reaction. The way your eyes met his was proof of that. Wide like a foal, wide enough to register the unjust curl of a lip. “ I’m just asking you to stay…”

The words had been burning the tip of your tongue red raw. Each night as he lay beside you, the same questions— words made up of nothing but consonants that had a profound effect on you– would hardly let you rest in his arms. They tortured you instead; Mocked you. It was the equivalent of hanging. You could feel the ghost of a noose around your neck. It might as well have been His hands. It was as rough as them after all.

What is wrong with you? What is so repulsive about you that warrants his departure? Was it the curve of your hips– their dips? Or even the bump on your nose– how dare it not have the perfect influxing curve! The slant of your eyes? The jagged stretch marks on the inside of your thighs! Not only had they the nerve to exist in their silver, shining mockery, posing as a diamond, but they had the fucking nerve to sit where others could see. Fuck them entirely and their very existance. Were those very thighs plump enough? Too plump? Why was there no gap between? Was there too much of a sag to your breasts? The colour of your nipples– why did they have to be that colour? Were the lines on your forehead marring your skin? What on you– about you– detested him? Because if you knew you'd cut it off. You'd change it. You take a knife to your nose and cut it off even if it was just to spite your own face. Now, laying here with him, you wish to be anyone but yourself. Yourself was the woman that disgusted you. It would always be the woman that disgusted you if he didn’t fall in love.

“That's jus’ the thing, Bambi.” He sighed, his mouth moving in a slow hushed mumble. His wind chapped, weathered lips grazed the shell of your ear, “I already do.” Followed by silence, and then: “An’ I ain’t no good at it, I’m afraid.”

That was the problem. Joel thought it had to be a life lived in an entirety of carolling laughter for you. A warm, joyous time. The kind of peace the world seldom granted anyone anymore. Not bound to him by the twine of his selfish nature. In the wrong man’s bed. If the world had told him anything before it was that he deserved to be alone. First Sarah. Then Tess. Ellie too. It was only a matter of time before you left too. He had no clue that what you wanted was just to be held. To be kept. He didn’t have to carve out a hole in himself to accommodate you. Nor give an arm or a limb. He just had to stay. Exactly where he was now. Exactly as he is. But selfish men believe in selfish things. And Joel Miller was a selfish man.

Maybe he wasn't. Humans are, after all, selfish creatures. If we are innately selfish does that make us selfish, or just human. Regardless– Joel was selfish. Yes. But more importantly: He was the damned, the scrutinised, the beggar. All of the above.

Joel Miller was, and forever will be, the fallen.

[honeybcj]

I think James should give some attention to Regulus too. Can you write some hcs of just Jegulus?

sure nonnie <3 i’d love to. jeggy does have my heart very much, and regulus deserves attention as well! i’ll give some sfw & nsfw ones.

— on the outside, we see that regulus is the very formal, stoic kind of person whereas james is the one always making jokes and filling the room with chatter and laughter, but i like to think that behind closed doors these two are complete opposites. with regulus, james can be quiet. he doesn’t have to put on a show for others because he knows reg accepts him for who he is. and vice versa where regulus feels like he can chat away for hours to james, and james will never tell him to stop talking. he’ll even nudge regulus gently or press a kiss to his temple and encourage him to keep going if reg starts to get particularly shy about his rants.

— despite james’ natural romancing and wooing personality, he (and reg) both like to keep most of their date nights at home. that’s not to say that they don’t like going out because they do. but when they go out, it’s like a big ordeal because james can and will wine and dine regulus to the fullest extent. i’m convinced their first date was at a really fancy restaurant because james wanted to impress reg so bad, and then they end up laughing when they leave because it was soooo not their scene. they end up on james couch, reg’s legs in james’ lap while eating ice cream from the tub.

— let’s be real, james is a little Arrogant and regulus is never afraid to call james out, he’s even encouraged to do so. same in the sense when reg gets a little snarky with his tone because he has a Bone to pick with every person to ever exist for god knows what reason.

— as much as i adore the whole grumpy/sunshine dynamic, regulus isn’t always grumpy or mean to james. of course, the teasing is always there, but james and reg have a very healthy relationship, even if they had to work really hard for it. that said, regulus is actually very far from grumpy, and not a whole lot actually disappoints him. he thoroughly enjoys giving james pet names and watching James’ cheeks go all ruddy when he’s feel sentimental.

— one thing is for sure is that they have vastly different tastes in music, so they could be cleaning the house one day, music playing in the background, and it would go from tchaikovsky to the backstreet boys to yoke lore to lil uzi vert sorry i don’t make the rules here

— Very adventurous in the bedroom. as in they are open to trying anything to other wants to for the most part. shibari is just so jeggy to me. i adore the thought of reg tying james up and leaving him to his own devices while he leaves the room, just to get james worked up into a frenzy

— actually big exhibitionists/lovers of (semi)public sex and not necessarily by choice. they get Horny all. the. time. and unfortunately that means they have to do something about it, no matter where they are. so be it, reg looked hot in those pants he just tried on, so of course james is going to fuck him in the changing rooms, you gotta do what you gotta do

— i talk about this one frequently, and i know it’s a popular one, but james is the king of giving head. simple as that. but let’s also remind ourselves that reg ALSO loves giving head, like he’s very greedy about it. loves it when his eyes get all watery and he’s crying and lowkey i think about james licking away the tears afterwards because it turns him on more than it should

— these horny fuckers fuck in the shower more than any other relationship i’ve ever heard of. it’s a problem only because they’re trying to get ready for the day or night or whatever and they get soooo handsy, so what else are they supposed to do

(this is getting a lot longer than i anticipated, so if you would like any more hcs, let me know, and i might do a part 2!)

[eldritchdyke]

The recent Signalis anticommunism discussion on here made me stumble onto your take about it from last month, and while I do believe that Signalis is very... normie anticommunist (you seem to disagree), your post made me really curious, but at the same time it was very vague, and a lot of people interpreted it as "Signalis isn't anti-communist, it's anti-authoritarian". Would you be willing to elaborate?

Oof didn't realize there was more discussion to it than I thought so I won't wade into the whole of that cuz that wasn't what I was responding to at the time. Also just to preface two things; for one I am a communist myself and that did effect my reading of the text a great deal and for two I didn't say anything about the "Signalis isn't anti-communist, it's anti-authoritarian" thing myself that was a later addition from other people (personally I don't like the term "authoritarian" as a way to analyze the faults of certain socialist states but that's neither here nor there).

What I was driving at is the idea that the DDR imagery (and beyond that, as others have pointed out it isn't solely pulling from that) is doing a lot more than simple condemnation or any sort of post-war triumphalism over "dystopian" socialism. We can read a lot based on what was given attention in the text, and I think the ways that DDR imagery show up in the game are shown with a rather loving, even reverent light at times (you don't create a bunch of intricately designed DDR robot girl ocs and name some of them after historical DDR special forces units because you totally despise everything the DDR stood for). This is intentionally contrasted with the rotting and decayed state we actively find a great deal of these things in, which provides a great deal of contrast between the lowercase i ideal and the reality of an execution which was tainted by the literal bleeding psychology of collective trauma and the attempts at domination of individuals.

What results is less a coherent world as such that can be dissected as one might dissect typical worldbuilding lore and more an emotional portrait which depicts a sense of portrayal at the way the history of the DDR played out, and you may disagree with parts of that (I do with certain parts as well) but it isn't intended to reflect a dissertation on the flaws of the DDR. It's an emotion first conceptualization of tainted Ostalgie and the hauntological traces of a future which was not allowed to be for reasons internal and external, through that lens it is, to me, quite ambiguous over whether or not the source object was a negative or a positive. Instead its a truly conflicted portrayal of the emotional state one is left in after both the (again lowercase i) ideals of that revolutionary state and its practical execution, warts and all, have passed into the realm of cultural memory.

(I'm sorry that's probably a whole lot of words to not fully answer your question but tldr I don't think Signalis is as anticommunist as a lot of people think it is, I think people are generally reading the diegesis too literally and not really delving into the full emotional depth going on with how communist imagery is used in the game)

[son1c]

after months of agonizing over it, he's finally here: the sonic variant from my original shatterspace! syzygy, or "ziggy," has a bad attitude, and no powers at all. that's right! after creating a sonic variant that's basically a god in terms of his power level, i've decided this one doesn't have any superspeed.

instead, he uses extreme gear to get around.

as for why he doesn't have a wisp... well, he used to, but it met an unfortunate end when he was still very young. since then, he became prickly and closed off. at least, that's what most people think.

in truth, the twist to his character is that he's the embodiment of sonic's "power of friendship." he's rescued several kids from certain death situations, and has formed his own little gang of superpowered loyalists. among these kids are this universe's cream, ray, and kit. more about them will come later...

also, something to note about this shatterspace: since the world is fractured in two, i figured it would only make sense for space to be like how it is in "treasure planet". so, there's breathable air up there. syzygy and his little friends spend most of their time traversing the cosmos, searching for a way to fix the planet--a goal that most people on earth have all but forgotten about.

[istherewifiinhell]

Rewatching jacob gellars Pinocchio video to rewatch tng measure of a man to watch metropolis to read rossums universal robots to better argue about why modern tf lore sucks.

[orbdotexe]

decided Fuck It We Ball, and now I'm putting together Lore Bits important to The Forsaken Exile, so here we are after way too long of trying to find the names of them. if you even care:

—

Post-Red War private celebration - Short and sweet, making fun of Cayde! Important to those characters in particular—Zavala, Cayde, Ikora, and Wolf. Common point of reference in memory lane-type thought spirals.

The Young Wolf's Howl and its promise - Obviously. A promise Wolf still carries, and one Saladin believes them to now either be delusional for or mocking him with by continuing to carry it, especially after murdering Lakshmi.

Aunor accuses/suggests the Guardian could've lied about Cayde's death - The interaction itself is non-canon to Exile, but the initial viewpoint of Wolf on Aunor's side stands very strong, and very wide-spread. The guilt on Ikora's side stands as well.

The Sundial - Always good lore, but specifically the end part of Osiris and Drifter's conversation. That interaction is the context to the Drifter short (or, A Questionably Fortunate Encounter).

Drifter's hallucinations from The Nine - Aids in understanding why, shortly before Beyond Light, Drifter hints to Elsie that there's Something Wrong, and it might be worthwhile to teach Wolf how to control Stasis. While not entirely certain, he recognized the signs of someone trying to ignore whatever they were seeing or feeling, and connected the dots.

Important because of Prime Brainrot: "For Fear of the Conquering Hero" - Actually the name of another page in the same lore book, but thought I'd shove it out here too. As Cayde is still alive in Exile, it's not wholly canon. Honestly not sure of its level of canon at all, as I've no idea what to do with Shin in TFE. But this specific lore page ("A Fire Inside") always makes my brain scream, so have it. Quite honestly, the entire lorebook screams at me, but this one and "Echoes Followed By Silence" in particular.

[arolesbianism]

So I may or may not have spent a good chunk of my day trying to learn how to look into onis code and while I may not have yet succeeded I will likely keep fucking around with shit tomorrow and if I manage to succeed it'll spell great doom for my sanity as oni becomes the interest I've officially poured the most effort into analyzing

[minipisi-is-dumb]

man i am so so glad more aspec people are finding community and acceptance and visibility and all those nice words. like the idea that more and more aspecs don't have to grow up feeling alienated from everyone or that they know that there's nothing wrong with them makes me SO happy UAGHSHSHS guys i love being aroace have i told u that

[hgduo]

Honestly, knowing this event is (presumably) ending on my birthday is already the best gift I could ever get

[zkretchy]

anyhow ...hi @alllthequeenshorses​

I am currently busy trying to figure out if for this lil spontaneous au idea I do wanna go all into the new quest but make it Kiyan and detective roadtrip or such

or if I myself wanna lean more towards Kiyans more canon place simply because that’d leave me with a body to bring him back to instead of just murder (think of it as a combined “who did it” with amnesia and also a possible happy ending beyond justice via revenge killing-I have many notes discussing this with myself and I do tend toward the latter because it can still allow for a somber “get revenge and die peacefully” end but with trauma literally buried leading towards more mystery stuff and idk if any of the things I wrote even made sense)

here is miniscule context

[robyn-goodfellowe]

also with that being said i am officially done with hints for the puzzle (everything you need is already out!) so it’s back to my regular posting with weird concerning tags that don’t actually have a deeper meaning to them!

thank you for everyone who participated and indulged in my silly little shenanigans :) im very proud of everyone who participated whether publicly or privately (u know who u are ehe) and i really hope you’ll enjoy how it all ties together and what i have planned for twtt when it eventually comes to light ❤️⏳💜

[absensia-archived]

CHARLOTTE + SLEEP HEADCANONS ☁️

neither a morning person or a night owl, charlotte is able to tolerate her chaotic sleep schedule relatively well. depending on what kind of job or "game" she's currently working, she will have a slight preference for either day or night, but as far as during which time of the day she feels more awake during, there is no preference at all.

like her habits ( or rather, lack thereof ), her sleep schedule also depends largely on the activity and habits of those around her. she organizes her sleep schedule so as to match the peaks and lulls of activity around her.

work, exploration, and general tomfoolery always come first, meaning charlotte, not being obliged to a schedule in the first place, does often go several days without more than maybe one or two short naps to make up her sleep. this does not interfere with her ability to sleep or fall into a more stable sleep routine should she want to. she's able to switch between getting regular sleep and being sleep - deprived quite seamlessly.

charlotte does occasionally suffer from bouts of insomnia which she normally doesn't try to fight. she instead use the time and strange sensation of being wide - awake to go out and observe things she couldn't in daylight, or use the time to study.

charlotte can fall sleep almost anywhere, but that doesn't mean that she can sleep comfortably just anywhere. for the most part, unless she is in an actively dangerous or risky circumstance, she doesn't mind resting and sleeping in public places. on buses and trains, in parks, on campus quads. she also doesn't mind sleeping in other people's cars, on the ground or in the corners of abandoned buildings, on rooftops, in stairwells. . . in these cases, charlotte rarely allows herself to fall fully asleep, remaining only half - asleep and waking in short intervals to stay aware of her surroundings.

it's not a consistent occurrence, but charlotte does often look dead when she is asleep. other times, she will simply appear extremely still in sleep. when properly asleep, charlotte does not tend to move or shift; she stays in whatever position she was in when she fell asleep. even during the worse of nightmares, she does not tend to twitch or make faces. she rarely moans or sighs or mutters in her sleep. her eye movements are the only non - stillness about her while asleep.

her stillness aside, charlotte almost always sleeps in a curled or as closed as a position/posture as possible. that means that when laying down, she will curl in on herself until her knees are nearly at her chest, her chin is tucked to her collarbone, arms are likely folded beneath her head or curled into the space right below her head. in average double - sized bed, charlotte only takes up about a quarter of the bed. when sleeping while seated, charlotte will often cross one leg over the other and cross her arms over her chest.

as far as dreaming goes, charlotte only ever sees nightmares or nothing at all. when she isn't having a nightmare, charlotte falls into a pseudo - void where she "speaks" with the fragment of the void that lives within her. to say that she is used to these nightmares would be inaccurate, but there are some sleeps when she can tolerate them better than others. that being said, if you happen to wake charlotte while she is in the throes of a violent nightmare, she will wake up startled, afraid, and in fight mode.

charlotte never feels rested upon waking. she may be groggy and lethargy in some cases, but more often than not, she will wake abruptly and fully awake and aware. this is independent from whatever mood she may be in upon waking; this refers to her level of consciousness.

charlotte doesn't have a "bedtime routine" seeing as she doesn't even maintain a sleep schedule. going to sleep to her is simply just another activity to tack onto the day; it is not necessarily the "last" thing she will be doing or the thing that "closes" her day. she sometimes looks forward to it, sometimes she genuinely forgets about it for days at a time. being tired isn't necessarily a good enough reason for her to start getting ready for bed, but being bored may be. sometimes you will find her reading in bed before moving to sleep ( in which case, she will be seated at the foot of the bed because she doesn't read where she'll later curl up to sleep ). if she has recently showered, she'll wait until her hair is dry before going to bed because she doesn't like feeling like she's just pulled herself out of a lake and she has bad experiences with hair - dryers. she doesn't need to eat or drink anything in particular before sleeping but doesn't mind snacking before sleep if she is hungry.

in ideal circumstances ( meaning safe and sound situations ), charlotte is neither an overly light or overly deep sleeper. in terms of "depth" of sleep, she is completely Average. sleep time ranges from 10 minutes to 16 hours natural sleep.