#this is how I think we're supposed to understand it?

[sappho-serotonin]

Okay, so I understand that art is persecuted and feared bc free speech, expressing feelings that don't match what people are supposed to think/believe, etc. etc.

BUT

The idea of anyone being afraid of artists is WILD to me. As an artist and someone who knows a bunch of artists, we're not that scary. We're just a bunch of lil dudes (frequently some sort of neurospicy) just painting or sketching what comes into our minds.

Like, how are you gonna be scared of a lil dude? He just a lil guy!

“Beware of Artists” - Actual poster issued by Senator Joseph McCarthy in 1950s, at height of the red scare.

[imsobadatnicknames2]

Aside from the whole thing with leaving tags on MY post and then telling me to "back off" when I decided to reply to them as if I'm the one stepping on their toes (because I'm supposed to pretend that tags are private or whatever because of "site culture" that only made sense in the context of how the site used to work 10 years ago), another thing about that response on my post is that like.

If you, as an american, are starting any statement with any variation of "I think non-americans don't understand xyz" literally just stop typing lmao. Unless it's like some super specific deep cut about how your country's government operates which the average person in your country probably isn't familiar with either, I assure you 9 out of 10 times we understand and we have heard whatever you're about to say a million times before. We're expected to be plugged into every social issue and current event in your country to have any hope of being taken seriously in any conversation taking place in any anglophone-centric "social justice" space, be for real dude.

[shadowbriar]

Bob Reynolds — Catalyst II

Pairing : Robert "Bob" Reynolds x (she/her) doctor!Reader Word Count : more than 200 words. Warning : Thunderbolts spoilers. Sets during Bob's Project Sentry era. Mentions of medical procedures. Not proofread cause I'm doing this on my phone. Synopsis : For once, he actually let himself grow comfortable in the gentleness of another. Notes : i think i've gathered the rough idea for this short series. be mindful that i might not update as fast as you'd like, so drop a comment if you'd wanna be tagged for future chapters! please donate to my kofi so I can get a new laptop and write properly cause drafting though phone is hell, i tell you.

↞ Part I

Bob's hands were always cold. That's one of the first things she noticed about him.

At first, she thought it was just because he was nervous or that the room was too cold for him to stay in. They have to keep the temperature a little below the average to minimise the chance of contamination in the lab, but as she learned more about him, reading all the substance abuse and his history of mental illnesses, his cold hands were certainly caused by something greater than just the cold air.

Bob wasn't even supposed to be one of her patients. He was one of the junior doctors'. A subject that they didn't even expect to be able to survive the first trial—seeing the many potential underlying health issues he might have from his previous lifestyle—but it just so happened that she came to the lab the morning his procedure was being done, and one look at those innocent, terrified eyes, and she knew she couldn't leave him out of her sight.

"Do you feel any pain right now, Mr. Reynolds?"

"No," he answers, looking down to the many cables attached to his chest right now "and— uh, please don't call me Mr. Reynolds,"

"Okay, what would you like to be called then?" she asked as she fixed his IV drip.

"Bob, please call me Bob,"

"Okay, then, Bob," she nods, putting her hands in her coat pocket as she speaks to him "I've seen that you've got quite the history with substances, and since there have been cases where patients grow certain level of drug resistance from substance abuse, I'm going to have to keep a close eye on you,"

Bob looks at her with quite the fright in his eyes, barely blinking as he tries to understand her words.

"Look, I'm not here to judge or snitch on you to anyone. I just want to make sure that you're okay and will be okay," she smiles softly, hoping he wouldn't feel threatened anyhow "and since we'll be seeing a lot of each other, I figure we might as well be friends,"

"Friends..?"

She nods, giving him her first name, "I'll call you Bob, and you can call me that. And since we're calling each other by our first names, technically, we're already friends,"

Bob smiles hesitantly.

She watches him a little closely. Bob's smile lines were deep. There's a shy dimple on his right cheek that would only appear if he was fully grinning. The curls on the corner of his lips rarely reach his eyes, but when they do, she finds it hard to peel her eyes off him. She also notices that he speaks louder to himself than when he was conversing with anyone. Bob always speaks in question, as if he was afraid to be persistent or cause any disturbance to anyone. A habit that she couldn’t help but to feel a little sad of for there must be a persisting cause to have moulded him into this hesitant man.

"Do you think this test is as true as how they promote it?" Bob asks, looking down to his IV-ed hand.

"How do they promote it?"

"That it'll make you better," he answers, looking up to her "they say it's for people who wants to make something better out of themselves,"

She remained quiet, watching him intently.

"Do you think it'll make me better?" Bob asks once again.

"I don't know," she shakes her head, answering his question truthfully "but what I do know, is that I will do all that I can to make sure that you'll be okay. That you're not hurt in any way,"

"That's not really what I signed up for," he replies, not meeting her eyes. There was a clear disappointment in his heart as he let out a sigh, picking on his nails as if he was regretting the decision he’s made. She wonders if she should just excuse herself or try to offer him any better words of comfort, but before she could say anything, Bob finally looks up with half a smile on his face "at least, I gained a friend,"

She smiles back at him, hoping that it looks as genuine as the fondness she feels for the man, "I'll try my best, Bob,"

And that's how it all started. How she unknowingly committed herself to a patient like never before. Every time she came to make notes of his progress, every time she checked his blood pressure—even though she knew that the nurses have done it prior to her visit—she would always touch his hand to see if they were getting warmer.

There's a lot of wounds Bob has that he hasn't shared with her, lots of things she wished he would let her heal, but trying to fix his cold hands feels like the right first step. She wanted to make sure that he was getting better, that she was healing the causes of his cold hands, whichever it might be. Perhaps it was the drug doing all the work, but even then, knowing that she developed it and monitoring his progress now, still made her feel content on the little help she could offer for him.

"Your hands are getting warmer," she notes with a smile.

"I— yeah, they are, aren't they?" Bob says, rubbing his hands together from the pleasant surprise "I've always had cold hands all my life,"

She smiles, feeling happy from his beaming response.

"Do you have cold hands, as well?" Bob asks.

"Never as cold as yours were," she answers, opening her palms "do you want to touch my hand?"

Bob looks up to see her eyes. There was evident surprise written on his face, as if he never expected anyone to share him such an offer. He looks back down to her open, inviting hand, hesitating, "Can I?"

"Of course,"

Bob's fingers were shaking a little as he reached for her hand. He places his palm on top of hers, laying it flat as if he doesn't know how to properly touch her. The size of his hand could easily envelop hers, a little warmer than ever, but still colder than hers.

"You're warm," he mentions, eyes still glued to their hands "small, but warm,"

She smiles at him, watching as he lets out a little sigh of satisfaction, "You'll get there. We'll get your hands warm soon, Bob,"

—-

The dizziness in her head seeps in as she slowly regains her consciousness. The lights above her head were blinding, scorching her pupils as it showered her with unnecessary brightness. She tried to cover her eyes with her hands, but her body was bound tight to the bed she's laying at. Strapped down to the point that she couldn't even turn her body.

"You're awake," a voice calls "I'm very sorry, Kid, but you left me no choice,"

She turned her head to see the man, head still hazy from the subdued tranquilliser, "You're a sick man, Houston,"

He shows a pitied smile, looking as if he knew himself just how much he's disappointed her.

"Let me go," she demands weakly, moaning as the ache on her body starts to settle "get these straps off me,"

The man shakes his head with regret, "I can't do that,"

"You— you're killing these people.. how could you?" she asks with a louder voice, struggling to free herself "I thought we were doing something good here, something important that would help the world. Why would you alter my serums, Houston, why?"

"Because you only wanted to make people better, not best," he begins, standing from his seat and turning to back her. He runs his hand through his white hair, frustrated of the circumstances they've found themselves in "you— you're too good, too kind, and we can't afford to be that. Not right now,"

She watches him without a word, confused as to what he’s trying to explain.

"We don't need better people. Better, is not enough. We need the best, and you can't be the best if there's plenty of you,"

"So, what, you let these people die and hope that one of them would survive?"

"That's the idea, yes," he answers as he faces her again "Project Sentry needs to produce a hero that is the best. A god, if not something greater. And we can't have that if they can't even survive a little molecular alteration from the serum,"

"You're injecting them with cancer," she argues, closing her eyes as the weight of guilt washes over her "no one is going to be able to come out of this experiment alive,"

"I fear you've underestimated yourself, Kid," Dr. Houston says with a little smile, walking closer to her "not only did you develop the serum, but you also took care of the man until he survived it. You healed and made him greater, at the same time,"

She looks at him with confounded expression, feeling her heartbeat rising as she realises who he's talking about, "No.. Bob—,"

"He's in great hands. You don't need to worry about him," he cuts in "Robert is our most valuable asset, the answer to OXE Group's need, and we have you, and only you, to thank for,"

"Don't you— if you touch Bob—," she begins to panic, squirming under the straps until it chaffed her skin "you're killing him! No one can survive that serum, no one! You're only setting him up for death!"

"Perhaps, but he's been thriving in all our physical tests, and I believe it's time for us to call Valentina. Show her about our breakthrough,"

"No—," her yelling fell to Houston's deaf ears as the man walks away, heading to the door "Houston, come back here and untie me! Let me go! You're killing him! Let me go! Houston—,"

She yelled and begged until her voice was gone. Her throat is now sore, and the exposed skin that met the edges of the strap was now bleeding from how hard she tries to pry herself out. She was exhausted, confused, and above all, scared of what's going to happen for Bob. Part of her feels guilty to have unknowingly put him in such a dangerous spot, but a bigger part of her, the more vulnerable and shy part of her, was scared that she would never get to see him again. The idea of never looking into those blue eyes again, to never see his smile lines, or touch his now warm hands, scare her more than whatever it is Houston might do to her.

Because if it wasn't for her to come and rescue Bob, who else would?

—-

The concept of time has practically gone pointless when you're tied in a room with no windows. She wasn't sure how long she has been trapped in this room, how long since she was injected with whatever it is Houston used to immobilised her, nor how long has it been since he last came in. The only time anyone ever comes in and out of that one door is to feed her and to walk her to the restroom, and that is done with rough, high security manner.

As she stared at the empty wall, she noticed that the light in the room was flickering. Not the kind of flickers that happened when the lamps were about to go out, but the kind of flicker you see when the electrical power was being messed with. She knew that the lab has backup generators, they couldn't afford a full outage if there should ever be any issue with the electricity, so the flickering lights certainly made her raise her brows.

At first, this flicker happens rarely during the day, but as time goes by, the more days she spends trapped in the room, the more frequent this flickering happens. Sometimes, the blackout lasts longer than three seconds, and she could only imagine just how many of her samples would've gone spoilt in the lab if she was still working. It's odd to know that Houston is doing nothing to fix that persisting electrical issue.

"You have some serious issues with those lamps," she comments as Houston finally revisits "are we running out of money to pay for the electricity bills?"

Houston shows a meaningful smile, one that holds a thousand secret she couldn't decipher, "Isn't it magnificent?"

Her brows rose, "What is?"

"The miracles Robert could do for us,"

"Bob did this..? But— how—,"

"I’ve told you, you're underestimating yourself,"

"What— what did you do to him?" she demands, tossing herself around to wiggle off the straps once again "let me go, Houston, let me see him!"

"He's doing fine, Kid," Houston chuckled a little, taking a seat "as I said, he's OXE Group's most valuable asset. We wouldn’t do anything to harm him, not when we’re so close to achieving our goal. We're taking good care of him, don’t worry,"

She looks away, trying to digest Houston's words. It's true, Bob is their only surviving subject. They wouldn't do anything to jeopardise their project, now that they're a step closer towards their mission. But it would be too risky to take Houston's words as it is. There's no limit to the eagerness and optimism OXE Group has for Project Sentry. One wrong decision and it would spoil all their hard work. Worse, it might actually harm Bob.

"You're bleeding again," Houston says as he notices the skin that was scarred by the straps "you need to stop hurting yourself this way, Kid,"

"Well, then, get me off of these and let me free,"

"And have you kidnapped our subject? Get him out of this building and make him disappear?" the older man asks, smiling triumphantly when he sees her surprised face "Robert told me about your plan to get him out of his room,"

"I never thought of kidnapping him, I just wanted to get him out of that depressing room," she defends "he's a person, Houston. Treat him like one,"

"Oh, we're treating him much better than that. He's to be a God, remember?"

She smiles a little, mocking, "And what then? When you've successfully turned him into a God, what then? What makes you think that a God would listen to you? To Val? To anyone?"

Houston's smile waters, looking caught off guard.

"You don't know what you're doing, Houston," she continues, pouring petrol to the flame "that's your problem: you just do, you never think. You should be ashamed of yourself. You're not even a doctor. You're just a puppet,"

"Well, we've all made mistakes with this project," he shrugs, acting as if her words didn't sting "at least, I'm not the one trapped and strapped in a room,"

"I'm here because of you," she spat bitterly.

"No, you're here because of yourself," he corrected as he pointed at her in a disapproving manner "you grew too close, Kid. You know the first rule of working in this industry is to never get personal. Not to your peers, not to your subjects, and yet, here you are, risking your life for a man you've only met for a couple weeks,"

She glares at him, "He's my patient, I have to care for him,"

"Is that all he really is?"

She remains quiet, looking away as she swallows her own saliva in shame. She knew that Houston was right. She's long crossed the one line she shouldn't have toyed with in the first place. A doctor should never grow personal to their patient, especially when the nature of your relationship was not as simple. Bob wasn't just a man who scrapped his knee and came to her for a band aid. He was a man who knew the risks of admitting himself to this program, and she was the doctor who was responsible for just observing him. Nothing more, nothing less. And yet here she is, days away from sunlight with her mind plagued with one thing only: Bob.

"You need to remember who you are," Houston continues with a gentler tone "you're not just a doctor here, Kid. You're a scientist, too, and as scientists, we're bound to lose our subjects, be it through success or failure,"

With a gentle squeeze to her shoulder, Houston stood from his seat. He gave her a smile, a conflicted one that tells her it pains him to have her treated this way, too, but he's left with no other choice. He couldn't risk her putting the project on the line or cause any more damage to herself.

"Wait," she called before he could reach for the doorknob "does he.. does he ever ask about me?"

Houston turns to face her, showing another apologetic smile as he shakes his head, "No,"

She blinks, finding his answer to be hard to accept, but it would be a lie to say she didn't expect it. Supposed she should feel glad that she's not putting Bob in any kind of stress from her disappearance that might disturb his great progress, yet it stings still to know that she never held that much importance to him as she would like. It was childish of her to take any promises they've made any more serious than just some casual nonsense. She's the one who left, after all. She, too, would stop looking for someone if they suddenly leave without an explanation. It was the one thing she promised most for him, that she would be there for him always, and yet she's gone. Even if it was against her wishes.

"I'm sorry, Kid," Houston apologises.

She looks up to him, forcing a smile and pretending as if none of this conversation hurts her, "He's just a patient,"

The man nods, showing a last apologetic smile before he leaves.

The room feels as if it's grown as the door shuts. She looks up to the ceiling, trying not to let the tears that were starting to form on her eyes fall. It is sad to cry for a man you barely know, but even more pathetic to not being able to wipe your tears off.

Houston was right. The serum worked, and Bob is thriving with his new powers. They should all triumph in the success of the project, popping bottles of champagne in celebration and planning for their upcoming overdue vacations. But why does she find it hard to find any fraction of happiness in her heart? Why does she feel reluctant to take any pride in the success of this project? Shouldn't she be happy that Bob's trial worked and that he doesn't need her anymore?

Perhaps it was the guilt of everybody else who didn't survive the test that made her this hesitant, but to say it out loud would be the biggest lie she'd ever confess to the world. Sure, the passing patients would become the demons she has to fight every night in her sleep, but this wasn't about them, was it? It wasn't about the other patients—it was about Bob. It was about the hope of leaving this place with him. It was about the idea of having that walk around the city and trying out new places with him. It was about seeing the smile lines on his face and feeling the warmth on his hands.

It was about the fact that she now realised such hope was nothing more than a reverie.

Taglist: @babybabygrogu @wqrzew @minnieminnieee1 @youdontknowe @jesterlaughingstock @idohknow @foreverchangingmind @heartcower @mquituisaca @artandpunishment @x3zerochanx3 @yujyujj @baylegend6 @websterss

[nyctoseraph]

WINTER'S REVENANT

Dottore (Genshin Impact) x Experiment! Reader

WARNINGS: slight yandere behavior, human experimentation, violence, mentions of sharp objects, loss of sense of self. 1.3k words.

If it weren't for the blazing snowstorms outside, one would think that it's a sunny day in the laboratory.

At least when viewed within your perspective.

Clearly, you don't seem to mind (or to be aware of) the howling winds slashing against the window panes of the room, glassy eyes dazed along with a small smile that seems to point at nothing.

"How do you feel?" someone asks softly, yet still firm and expectant. The man's red irises shift across his sclera, scanning through for any sort of reaction from you.

"I feel alright, Dottore," a low and meek answer was heard from your form.

Dottore steps back, almost knocking down at least a handful of empty vials propped haphazardly on the metal table. Although it appears to be the least of his problems as he pays no mind to the small pieces of glass from the other vials crunching under his boots.

"So it really did work"

He says with a tone even he himself is unsure of. To be fair to his own expectations, there was once a time where he's been dreaming of this day; however right now, there's something that just doesn't seem to match with what he had in mind that time. Inside his crooked mind, he's supposed to be grinning (almost manic in a way like how he always remembered when he looked into the mirror) when he sees your obedient form staring up at him as he unlatches you from the vivisection table. He will sit you down, hold your hand as he starts small talk and then tell you that the treatment worked and that you're fine in his hands. 

He's always had it neatly orchestrated in his mind, like a playwright in a certain Fontainian theater that a colleague of his lingers to these days.

So when he sits you down and asks you how you feel, a wave of uncertainty hits him, how come everything's looking the same in his head yet he can't bring himself to grin and tell you that you're fine in his hands.

In his crooked, now hazy and distorted mind, he's reaching out for his deepest memories, a past intent, a script of sorts to recheck what's wrong with his little play of you.

You are also looking through him, or at him? He isn't quite sure, but when he stares into your eyes it looks just like he remembered them in the scenes from his mind.

The whirlwinds howl louder, slamming into the window panes and reverberating into the structure. It's almost akin to thrashing and wailing, yet in contrast to your surroundings, you sit there languidly, head in a tilt as you stare at him.

Dottore's countenance remained stoic, but he now understands the situation.

But he did always understand the situation.There's just a tiny bit of him that refused to take it.

The empty vials and needles clutter the room, left of what used to be the "medicine" he gave you for seven whole years. It's working as intended, the proof of his hard work now staring back at him.

There were times of violent outbursts and visceral screams, which by the looks of it, have already come to an end. In the back of his head, he understands. The drug has worked into your cortices, it's flowing down your spine and is sloshing with the blood in your arteries. Your whole body is one with his creation and it clicks in him as to why he feels he lost something.

Although deep inside, he had already pinpointed his problem, he can't help but think it's an absolute disgrace to his work; he cannot feel sad about a proven hypothesis, a successful experiment — but at the end of the day, he just ripped off a precious fragment of you and it's causing a flash of loneliness to creep into his artificial veins.

So he chose to do what he does best, delude himself and stretch his facial muscles to a sad excuse of a smile as he approaches your form.

"Alright, i guess we're done for this one"

In the name of science and everything he's built up by his bloody hands, he's going to be happy, maniacally smiling as he presents his magnificent work, you, to the Goddess herself. 

"Really?" you perk up, eyes glistening just a tiny bit as you stared up to the towering doctor.

His genius had created a drug that removes the feeling of fear by manipulating the senses, the brain, the veins, and the millions of nerves and neurons. Surely, with all the time he spent thinking and studying about you, he can differentiate each and every single one of them.

"For sure, let's bring you back to your room, yeah?" Dottore brings his hand out a bit, which you grab, this time with no hesitation.

But by archons, he swears, why does it have to be you?

-

But why wouldn't it be you? You were meant to be with him and he'll do anything for that to become reality.

The roaring winds can still be heard throughout the dimly lit laboratory, the metal paraphernalias scattered across Dottore's table reflects the artificial lamp lights in a way that makes the sharp edges of the metals shine pointedly.

The doctor sits in a black, leather armchair. he holds a small recording device; it looks sleek, a perfect fit for a man in his line of work. Apparently it's a new creation from the Fontaine engineers and it piqued his curiosity.

His curiosities could be fleeting, but like a certain someone, this tiny recorder–at least that's what it looked like in his long, slender hands–had become a regular part of his life.

He says the most vile and hideous things to the device, curiosities and musings that while he can bear to speak of to anyone he wishes, only a few could bear to listen.

This time however, he records a report, a simple and quick report of his successful experiment. 

"The substance, which as of this date does not have an official name, has undergone the necessary clinical trials. It can now be distributed across the ranks,"

"The substance has undergone 7 years of experimentation on different subjects, however we have come to a breakthrough as of this day as one of the test subjects have shown a 100% accurate outcome we're looking for,"

"The first phase of clinical trials have officially concluded, I declare the experiment successful."

A small click and a sigh can be heard simultaneously, Dottore turns off his recorder and looks outside the room, 

A success huh?

If there's one thing he's successful at, it is failing you.

By archons why did it have to be you, the last piece of his humanity, the last piece of what he used to be.

But it has to be you or no one doesn't it? All he wishes is for you is to willingly join him, watching the world burn and to dance across its embers.

So he takes his chances, he seizes you and transforms you into something akin to himself, an empty hull whose only response to the world is a smile.

He laughs, loud and boisterous that it echoes in his eerily empty laboratory. It doesn't stop until there's tears in his eyes and then he's just smiling, a sharp toothy smile, similar in fashion to a jester with a perpetual grin painted to their face.

Something snaps; a piece of him long hidden in his soul shatters into pieces, he breaks, along with you, and in his crooked and broken mind the two of you danced atop of what's left behind.

The snowstorm still slashes through the window panes, in his point of view the glass is tightly shut, but he felt like it got ripped off its hinges,

In his dreary life in Snezhnaya rarely did he bother to feel anymore, but right now he felt a shiver running through his spine.

Whether it's because of the cold or the dawning in him of the fact that he now has you in his hands, his precious doll, it doesn't matter anymore.

And so he goes, how could he let you spend this cold night alone in the dark right?

[seraph's notes]: i'm actually a dottore kisser <3

want more? check out the [database.] for other content!

[savagewildnerness]

Not another surge in Nicolas de Lenfent hate, a week from when I am planning to post a 70,000 word deep dive into his psyche based panic attack...

I wish so much that we could have discussions about characters from a point of view where we have opposite opinions on them. That's what's interesting about life! And it was surely the foundation of much of Lestat and Nicolas' Conversation!

But the thing is - it's fine for people to hate Nicki! No one would say he was difficult to love more than Nicolas himself.

And it's fine to interpret the books how you wish. The thing about the books is - there's the facts of them, and then there's your own interpretation and then there's the truth the author intended... and then there's the character's own truth... so I suppose it literally isn't as simple as it might appear. Although it feels simple to me when I read it.

But it feels simple to us all when we read. The fact is we take from art what's meaningful to us too. Art is in the interpretation of it and our own feelings about it as well as in the facts of itself.

But I can't lie - it still hurts me. It hurts me when it's implied people who like Nicolas are delusional.

It hurts me when Nicolas is accused of never loving Lestat or of being abusive to Lestat. Because I strongly believe neither of those things are true. Does he despise Lestat by the end? Yes. Is he cruel to Lestat? Incredibly! But that's not the same as never loving Lestat, or as abusing him. And Lestat certainly does his own deep wounding of Nicolas, all the worse as all Lestat tries to do is love him, but Nicolas has no frame within which to know that.

Anyway, my perverse self hopes someone who does hate Nicolas reads my fic, because I'm actually really curious what they in particular would think of how I have written him. Although I'm sure it would be torture to be in his mind so deeply if you hate him. ALAS. But I would still be very curious...

Obviously, he's only my version of Nicolas, as we're never in his perspective in Anne's books.

But yeah... I believe in Nicki so much that even though there's one chapter in particular that he was annoying me too I wrote him being so insufferable to a character who doesn't deserve it, I believe if you could just see inside his head and heart and understand him, surely everyone would love him as I do!

But I don't need everyone to love him. It's fine to hate him. I just need people to not minimise him or think my perspective a fantasy.

What did I say before... that the thing that hurts me most is when people are deemed delusional? *Does textbook definition of delusional idealism* hehehe! OOOPS.

But I genuinely *do* feel a bit panicked about posting the thing now... but I need not be... because no one will read it anyway! 😂

Generally speaking though, I really do have a question for everyone in the fandom - do you think there is a way, or a place we could encourage discussion of characters that never veers into criticising each other and only stays on the character themselves?

I wonder if part of the problem is that most areas only allow for short sentences and minimal conversation and then maybe it isn't that people have these pithy views, it's just the nuance of what people really feel is lost, or it all becomes misinterpreted in brevity and then it turns into something sharper?

I don't know.

Anyway.

*Shallow breathing*!

PANIC!

ETA: Also, I don't get why this topic is a battleground at all. I've spoken before of how I feel Nickistat enriches Loustat... but between Lestat and Nicolas - it isn't a battle for which one hurts the other more, or who is more justified in their feelings or actions.

Nicolas hurts and damages Lestat, and his own deep mental health struggles do not lessen the damage on Lestat at all.

And Lestat hurts Nicolas. And the fact that he didn't intend to hurt him, and that a lot is driven by desire to protect doesn't lessen the damage he does to Nicolas at all.

I find beautiful gothic tragedy in the fact that Lestat, the person who loves Nicolas most of all is actually largely responsible for the shattering of Nicolas' mind. That's not calling Lestat cruel. Lestat acts only from love. But it happens anyway.

That's literally why it's tragic. They BOTH hurt each other AND love each other. And the fact that there are reasons for the pain they inflict, if anything, only deepens its damage on each other.

And neither of them deserve any of the hurt they receive... and yet they both feel they do deserve it. And they chose this difficult love.

And that's why it's beautiful and terrible.

And that's why it ends in tragedy.

And that's why I love them.

[kkewpiie]

A Promise.

Part 1 - Friends Since the Start

Pairing: Jacob Black x Human!Fem!Reader. Description: Reader has known Jacob since they where little kids, and as they get older her feelings for him begin to grow. A/N: Bella is in this story, I assume they hung out with her as well I just couldn't think of how to fit it in. - keww

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Your first memory of Jacob came from when you were about 6. You were playing on La Push, scouring the sandy shores for cool shells or any washed up creatures you could find- typical kid stuff.

After a whole day of running up and down the beach, you were sat on the sand, watching the sun hide behind the ocean as you sorted through the treasures you had collected that day. A push on your right shoulder, turning your head to a boy only a year younger than you, his hands held out right in front of your face, and a front-toothless grin on his.

"(Y/N)! It's for you! 'Caus we're best friends forever!" looking down into his grubby, sand covered paws was a little bracelet, made from broken shells strung along a fishing line, some of which that had familiar patterns.

"Forever?"

"Forever!" with that you jumped onto him, pulling him into the biggest bear hug you could muster.

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When playing hide & seek, it is only fun for the people that know they are playing it. One summer, while you and Jake were spending your time foraging around in the woods, you decided it would be a great idea to play a game, only you forgot to mention it to him.

After successfully sneaking away while Jacob was distracted by a rare kind of newt in the stream, you had hidden yourself behind a large tree trunk, sheathed in moss, and fallen leaves. Crouching low and your hand over your mouth to catch any escaping giggles, as you could barely keep yourself together at the thought of Jacob unable to find you.

Five minutes had passed... Then ten...and so on...

The woods got quieter, and the light started to fall behind the dense tree-line. The game stopped feeling like a game as you began to get cold, and jumpy at the scurry-ings of the forest around you.

Eventually, you stood up stiffly- "Okay.. You win I'm done hiding now.." You looked around, no one in sight, and the woods around you darkening quicker than before.

"Jake..??" You called a little louder, but to no answer. Your breath quickened, as you grabbed onto your shirt in a effort to soothe yourself as your face scrunched up to hold back your fear.

Then you heard it. Snapping branches, a heavy thudding getting louder and louder, you twisted around trying to discern the direction.

"(Y/N)!" A familiar voice- loud, and scared. Not annoyed, not playing- scared.

Before you could respond, he burst through the dense brush with wild eyes, and flushed face, hair clinging damply to his head, and a scratch on his cheek. Spotting you, he froze- just for a moment, before jumping again and wrapping his arms around you so tightly, it pushed the air out of your little chest.

Filling your lungs up again, you began to stutter out apologies and little excuses alongside cries.

"I couldn't find you anywhere.. I-I thought a monster got you.." he spoke softly, pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes searching you all over for any damage, his face had a look you had never seen before, a look you didn't understand, at least not fully. It was a look boys your age weren't supposed to know how to do yet- look at you like you were theirs to protect.

"I'm fine.." you mumbled in embarrassment. "I just wanted to play.."

"Promise." Jake's eyes locked onto yours, black pools with little flecks of gold, filled with the upmost seriousness.

"Promise.. what?"

"no more hiding from me. Ever."

"Even during hide-and-seek??"

"Especially then." His little face making a mean look, you stared at him for a moment- your cheeks struggling to stay still, and hold in your laughter.

"Okay!! I promise!" You held out your pinky, and he held out his, looping them together with laughter and a big grins.

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Most of your younger years were spent that way, together. As you and Jacob grew older, you changed as expected but your friendship never did.

That was until one summer, under a tree behind Billy's house. You and Jacob sat backs against it, underneath a blanket as you listen to music off the iPod he had received as a birthday gift. One set of earbuds shared between you, threatening to fall out if you move any farther from each other.

Stuck in this position, (Y/N) felt Jake's head rest onto her shoulder. His eyes closed as he began to hum to the playing song. Your chest began to tighten as something was felt bursting within it, a feeling you had never felt before as you look down at his face.

It felt like just yesterday, you and Jacob were running around the rez getting into trouble... But as you stared down at him, you started to notice all the ways he had changed, his hair long and darker than it was before. His nose more prominent placed on his thinner face which had slowly replaced his chubby cheeks, Jake was no longer that little boy that would run around with you on the beach. The whole sight of it making your heart feel as if it was stone, weighing you down and keeping you unable to move away from looking.

Jacob must've sensed you staring, turning his head up to meet yours, your gazes connect, and it almost takes your breath away as your face burns red hot, all of this simply too much for your mind to process.

"..you okay..?" He said, turning up a brow at your staring.

You stuttered out an excuse, something about it being too hot under the blanket, scooting yourself out from under it, and hiding your face away from him.

When you got back home that night, you couldn't remove the image of his face from your mind. The feelings it gave you.. they were so unbearably strong...

Laying on your bed as you stared at the ceiling, trying to force your heart to be still; you remembered the promise you all those years ago.

His voice in the woods, the scratch on his little cheek, the way he seemed so scared because he couldn't find you.

"No more hiding from me. Ever."

That promise..

And this- this feeling... It was scarier than the forest that night, deeper than any of the shadows underneath the trees.

So you made a decision. A terrible one that made your heart ache even more.

You'd keep your feelings hidden away. You'd keep quiet- despite the overwhelming urge to say it as loud as you could.

Because you couldn't bare losing him.

"I'm sorry Jake... Please forgive me.." You whispered, eyes stinging, and your throat tightening- breaking your promise to him, and hiding from him in a way he could never find.

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And that's the end of part 1! What do you think?? I've never written a fic before and only recently watched through twilight! (super late- I knowww). Feel free to comment if there are any mistakes OR if you have any suggestions on where the story should go (still thinking on how to include Bella's role in all this)!

Thank you for reading!

[bookwyrminspiration]

hello you are the god of canon and i've been confused about this for a long time so i am turning to you as my last desperate hope to understand.

remember in everblaze, there was a leak? i'm not talking about the black swan leak, i'm talking about the leak that was leaking classified council information, like fintan's healing. sophie thought it was bronte at one point? well i'm pretty sure we never found out who that actually was.

tiergan says he suspects that the thirty missing dwarves are behind it right before the healing (somewhere in chapter 34 iirc) and sophie agrees and says yeah that makes sense, but it's never actually confirmed. then the story moves on as if that has been solved, so either i'm stupid and i'm not picking up what shannon's putting down (that the thirty missing dwarves are responsible for the leak) or i'm missing something? are we supposed to assume that tiergan was correct and that the thirty missing dwarves are the leak? if so, i'm pretty sure that's never actually explicitly stated, it was just a theory.

i'm pretty sure we're also supposed to assume that the thirty missing dwarves are the dwarves that fled to the neverseen (even though that's also never explicitly stated iirc), so that checks out. but then, the question becomes, why the heck do the neverseen care if random classified secrets are released to the general public? it doesn't make any sense. i get the neverseen wanting to know those secrets for themselves, but what interest would they have in the public knowing those secrets? if the thirty missing dwarves are the dwarves that fled to the neverseen and they're responsible for the leak, then it's like. okay, but why?

like when sophie thought the leak was bronte, she was able to sort of reason it out like "okay, maybe he's leaking these secrets to get the public riled up against the healing because he doesn't support it" or something like that. so it gives bronte a proper motivation (it wasn't him, but using this as an example).

so i guess the questions are:

are the thirty missing dwarves confirmed to be neverseen dwarves?

are the thirty missing dwarves confirmed to be the source of the council leak?

if they are the source of the leak, why would the neverseen care if the general public knew about fintan's healing and those other secrets?

thanks in advance i know this is long

Hi! You're totally fine and not at all stupid--it's quite nebulous.

Off the top of my head, I don't think we've revisited the council leak's source since that conversation. So unless and until Shannon circles back around to reveal Noland or Clarette or someone was up to nefarious deeds, I do think we're supposed to believe the dwarves are the source.

The dwarves also are working with the Neverseen, as seen in the battle of Mount Everest (p. 560) and much later in Legacy. I can't recall a line where the number thirty specifically comes up again? But as it doesn't seem they knew there were any dwarves with the Neverseen (p. 275, 570--not definitive, but it seems the general intention) prior, I don't think it matters we don't get the specific number

As for why they leaked secrets, I think it perhaps has something to do with Mr. Forkle's later theory about destabilizing everyone and swooping in to take over. The healing was highly divisive, and it shook people's trust even before it went wrong. Cluing everyone in to how much the council obscures diminishes their power and influence--makes the Lost Cities that much easier to conquer.

But again, a lot of this is off my memory--and I might be missing some details. If someone's got a stronger understanding of this conflict specifically, please do share!

[ghoulmore-girl]

I just wanted to say something about this, because I saw the post & got it sent by a kind person in my asks, and I’m actually one of the people being talked about.

I don’t use AI for my tarot or astrology posts. I never have. I’ve done tarot in real life for years — with friends, at gatherings, for people I care about, and sometimes even strangers who needed a kind moment. I didn’t learn this from a screen or a machine, I learned it through real connection. Through watching others read, through practice, through intuition, through time. This is something deeply personal to me, and it’s honestly a little painful to have that dismissed so quickly by someone who doesn’t know anything about me or the care I put into my words.

I understand that not every reading is going to connect with everyone. That’s completely fine, it’s natural, and even expected. We all have different energies and different ways of understanding things. And yes, I tend to write with a softer tone, or try to pull out the gentler or more hopeful aspects of a message, but that’s not “fake/corny” or “AI.” That’s me. That’s how I read. Because that’s the kind of guidance I needed at one point in my life, and I try to offer that now for others. Because I believe kindness goes a long way.

What’s really upsetting is this wave of harsh accusations and generalizations I’ve seen lately. It’s starting to feel like a witch hunt. People are being called out or spoken about in really cruel ways, and for what? For trying to offer something thoughtful? For having a writing style that someone else doesn’t like?

Not even two weeks ago, there was literally a blog made with the specific goal of “hunting down” so-called AI tarot readers. They were copy-pasting people’s posts into AI checkers (which aren’t even reliable) and using those results to publicly accuse people of using AI. A lot of those readers were completely innocent. It created so much anxiety and distrust in a space that’s supposed to be about intuition, connection, and support. And now the same kind of energy is happening all over again, just in a different form. It’s exhausting and honestly really sad to see.

I’ve been writing for years. I started posting fanfiction on Wattpad back in 2015 or 2016, then moved over to AO3. I have hundreds of fics, story ideas, half-finished books, and random docs full of writing.

Writing is a huge part of my life, and if anyone really needed proof, I could easily show my style, published works, drafts, or timestamps.

This isn’t something I just started doing with tarot — it’s a part of who I am. I'm even writing in a language that is not my maternal language.

So to have someone immediately claim that my words must be AI just because they don’t like the tone or structure… it’s absolutely untrue. And honestly, it really hurts. I know my voice, and I know how much love I pour into what I share.

I don’t mind criticism. I think respectful discussion is healthy. But calling people “pathetic” or “stupid” and accusing them of being dishonest with no proof is not criticism. It’s just mean. And it’s hurting real people who are putting love, time, and spirit into what they share.

Please remember there are real humans behind these blogs. We're not algorithms. We're people. And we’re doing our best to offer something meaningful in a world that already feels heavy enough.

I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE ALL OF YOU

WHAT HAPPENED TO ASTRO TUMBLR

what is it that nearly every astrology post i see is this corny stupid ass word salad chat gpt nonsense?!!!

please please please be smarter than this, be sensitive to this content and don’t engage with it

DON’T LET YOUR BRAINS ROT AWAY

you people are PATHETIC and STUPID

like please what is this😭😭

[captainjonnitkessler]

Do you guys notice how when Shawn Fain, president of the United Auto Workers union, started planning a general strike, he did it by a) targeting his messaging towards unions with the ability to safely and effectively strike in large numbers, b) laid out a clear, actionable plan for those unions to follow (setting contracts to all expire at the same time, since many unions cannot strike while under contract), c) is using union contracts to set clear, actionable demands that can be met in order to gauge success and provide an end goal, and d) started organizing FOUR YEARS before the proposed strike date to give people the chance to plan accordingly, because it takes a really freaking long time to get tens of millions of people organized?

You notice how he didn't do it by slapping a message on Twitter saying 'hey nobody go to work on Monday, that'll really show 'em'?

[kloss-karliee]

you have no idea just how beautiful this whole experience is about to be for you, for your family and all of us here. just incase you didn't know it, we're going to be an actual family. the five of us. it's really crazy isn't it? how at the beginning of this year we didn't even know each other. and now we're moving in together and having a baby girl. not a single one of these things was on my 2025 bingo card. but i suppose it must've been part of my lottery numbers because i really did win the big one with you. she's always done it with the boys and my sister's kids. it's just her own little way of being as involved as she can be. she loves all of her grandbabies.

private: i thought so. they're excited to be spending all that time with their dad. i told them about the trip and i'm not totally convinced they understand the gravity of leaving NYC but i think once we all get there that they'll slowly start to understand but i can only hope that they won't hate me totally for having them leave their dad. with all this time i'll have in June i'll be able to come out there and we can hopefully narrow down the list of houses that we want and can agree on so that when we all get out there it's just a bunch of signing paperwork and we barely have to unpack to repack.

i can't wait to go through all those new things and i can't wait to do them all with you and the boys. she is always the most loved little girl in the world right now. oh god yes she will be so loved that she will not know what to do with all of it. what a wonderful problem to have. i'm totally fine with our friends knowing her name, and of course our family can. oh that's cute of your mum to do!

private: that makes sense with everything. and it think having the boys be with him during June would be really good for the three of them. oh yeah there are room for your three in my house of course! before they get out here i can get my 'office' turned into a bedroom for the boys it will be perfect for them until we find our forever home.

[boo-cool-robot]

Thinking about a canon divergence AU where in that pit of curses in the Zen'in compound, Mai fully intends to die for Maki. She tries to let herself fade away and become a weapon for her sister, but when she comes to, her soul is in Maki's body. And so is Maki's! They realize quickly: Maki has access to a fully-realized Heavenly Restriction when she's in control of their body. Mai can use Construction with more reserves and greater finesse than ever before when she's in control. They have reached the pinnacle of their abilities.

They fight their way out. When their father dies, it's with one of Mai's bullets in his skull, from a whole gun she manifested. Mai Constructs Maki a sword, and they switch in perfect harmony as they kill everyone who ever hurt them. They're not quite sure who's in control when they cut down their mother.

They leave the gates of their family home, everything destroyed behind them, and they stumble. They aren't in sync anymore. They don't know what to do next. Because the thing is, it's easy for Mai to die when she doesn't have to deal with becoming what she never wanted to: A strong sorcerer. It's easy for Maki to accept that Mai was right when she's not right there, screaming her resentment and making their knees buckle. Because they may have killed their family and share a body but none of that actually fixes anything about their relationship!

[teddybeartoji]

i stop eating my popcorn when it's a quiet scene lmao i stop eating it because i know it Makes Noise and i want everybody to just be able to focus on the film . while some people decide THAT'S the moment they have to tell their friend something????????? you couldn't wait until the scene was at least over??????????

[ramsrambling64]

True. So I don't get it when people say they don't want Avorah to be endgame. They just wanted Ava & Deborah to be "creative partners." I think most fans themselves can't accept the relationship between a 20-something woman & her 70-year-old boss. For most, seeing the push & pull between Ava & Deb is enough. They can tell themselves that this is just how it's supposed to be. That the audience is not ready, but in reality, they themselves are not ready. For some reason, the idea of romance & relationship between 2 women w/a 40-plus age gap is so "right now," but for it to actually happen, is something that still gives them pause. Deborah knows that. She knows that behind all the "acceptance & queer social visibility," people are still living in a "this is where I draw the line" mentality. Ava is so naive bcoz she thinks everyone is supporting & welcoming her into the fold, but what she doesn't understand is that underneath all the smiles, there are still people out there who hate them. I want them to be endgame bcoz, let's be honest, we will never have a Deb & Ava IRL. As much as people would like to say "representation," we know that's not true. The only thing that we & the characters have in common is that we’re both gay. None of the things that happened to the characters will happen to us; that's why I am rooting for them. Every couple in any show that shows me something I know will never happen IRL gives me that giddy feeling; they're my fairy tale. I know that writers are trying so hard to steer the story away from Avorah after literally steering us right into that sapphic island where we all wanted to live on. I’m sad that they're not just backpedaling but bending over backwards in trying to "straighten" this whole epic journey. JPL is blowing, stumping, & to some degree calling out the fire & shaming it. We've become the butt of a joke for a few weeks when every interview is calling us out, calling our ship like we're some stowaway trying to steal a ship & start a mutiny, when they're the ones who welcomed us on board. I had people tell me "you just want to see them fuck," & the 1st thing that comes to mind is how sad their life must be if they get horny just by watching Hacks. Being intimate w/o fucking is one of the best parts of the relationship. Just talking, going on dates, vacations, heck, grocery shopping are marks of a normal, healthy, stable relationship. What I want is for Deb to have the kind of partner who will ask her how her day was, bring her a glass of wine, or even heat her food for her. Things that I'm sure she never had, given how she has Josefina & her little crew, but no matter how close they are, it would still be weird &, I guess, crossing some boundaries if they did those things for her w/ the kind of emotions & care that a partner gives. I want Ava to have something that will ground her. Ava, for all her independent-woman-hear-me-roar badge, is a freaking wreck. She needs guidance & a hand to guide her. Her northern star. Ava has been the kind of person who would do things bcoz she can & she believes she should bcoz no one is allowed to tell her otherwise. But w/ Deborah, she knows that she can literally chase her tail all day long, & Debo would call her, & she'll be focused & 100% present. That kind of emotional stability that I know she won't find w/Ruby or the married couple; they're all busy trying to find their own path themselves. They're all too caught up trying to smooth their own twisty, curvy future. Ava needs solid ground to walk on. & if Deborah can finally accept that Ava is the reward for the dud that was Frank, & honestly, if JPL will gift us w/ our own wonderful ending, then that won't be so hard. It would be a funny, happy, crazy, twisted, ironic, confusing, wonderful, & gay kind of existence. But again, Hacks is their creation, their own world. They can make us miserable or happy if it suits their mood. I can only hope, but in the end, we are at their mercy. We all want to see how this ends. But I don't think our happiness or satisfaction is at the forefront of JPL's mind.

Also, do y'all see how easy it is to have them date??? Spa, long walks around city attractions, karaoke, even clubs, or quiet evenings at home with a glass of wine, DO Y'ALL SEE HOW EASY IT IS FOR THEM

[twilight-deviant]

I've seen some people impatient for Fisk in his white suit again. (Probably? gonna happen in the next episode?) But I would like to point out a subtle wardrobe middle-ground to his "past self" of the original series.

Since Born Again started, Fisk has been wearing two-piece suits. (Something very apparent to me as I always admired his three-piece ensembles from Daredevil.) But then I noticed he had on vests again. This transition to his prior self even occurs midway through 1x06, specifically the scenes where he goes hard on Muse/vigilantes and then kills Adam.

Episodes 1 - 6.5 versus 6.5 - 7

The changeover happened literally from one back-to-back scene (bottom-left to top-right) to the next. (With him learning of Muse's most recent victims in between.) What's interesting is they're still dark three-piece suits like his S1 self, when he was convinced he was doing necessary evil for the greater good.

It's subtle, but it's a nice touch.

[pangzi]

can we just talk about how incredible wandee goodday is with their narrative devices though? the foreshadowing is incredible. there's symbolism everywhere. the oyeicher/yakdee juxtapositions are so good. even though their words and actions might contradict each other, everything gets spelled out for us so clearly, it's beautiful.

[losojos-decupido]

" go off and enjoy the night how? " fogado huffs suddenly, and he can very much feel the way sweat pools at the points of contact between his fingers. " what, so i should just leave you after dropping a meteor like that? because i'm not gonna. i'm not cruel, mitama. "

it doesn't take a genius to piece together the story. fogado had assembled it long before he'd ever set foot in the closet; it's precisely because of this knowledge that every step is like dragging through barbed wire. cupido is not a heartbreaker. he is supposed to send love out on missions, pulling beloved ones along until they find the match that shall make them happy forever. nobody can shoot themselves with an arrow; he should never be a part of this equation.

fogado bites his knuckle, unsure what next to say. he doesn't like that mitama keeps kicking herself like she does, but what right does he have to tell her to stop when he's the reason she's down here in the first place?

so he doesn't say that, not outright, but the hanging silence is just as uncomfortable as the suggestion that he's just wasting his time by agonizing over her. whuf. conversation has never been this difficult before.

" ...y'know, i talked to a lot of people to figure out what happened. " his eyes set off to some distant darkness again, and he starts to feel his own way down to the floor. " i didn't understand, but i wanted to. took up pretty much the whole night, really. " he tries to lighten this stuffy atmosphere with a laugh, but all that comes out is a gravel-laden series of chuckles. " because i was sad that you left. but i knew i couldn't come back until i knew what i'd done and could talk about it.

" so... that wasn't a waste of my night. at least, i don't think it was, because it was somethin' i chose to do. and i don't regret it, because i learned a lot about stuff. since we're both gonna be here for some minutes longer, i feel like s' only right that i tell you. will you hear me out? "

seven minutes in a non-religious undisclosed and unaffiliated location

ethereal ball 2025