#Because a bunch of the people in the tags I saw were very weird about the author and his works

[usurpator]

This was simultaneously one of the worst and best reading experiences of my life

#Fuck the author but honestly. Very interestingly written #I want to recommend this but also I don't know who I would even recommend this to. I don't want to name the title or author in the post too #Because a bunch of the people in the tags I saw were very weird about the author and his works #Reading this sort of ruined my life but also gave me a lot of self reflection opportunities so thank you I guess #It took me almost 2 months to finish because I refused to read it at certain points lmao #It's so strange because I partly want to share my thoughts on it but at the same time I know that I can't #Beside my usual hesitations when posting or sending genuinely anything at all #I can't possibly make people truly understand what I think about it without sounding like the edgiest mf on this planet #I'm doubting even if it was a good book at all maybe it's just because I'm in a weird place. And I let it affect me way too much #Or rather I'm doubting my own judgment on it all. Maybe I will write something here later about it or I will start some blog about books #As in on another website lmao #A lot of this probably isn't well worded I have a killing headache and I just got done with the book. I'm a bit confused myself #Thanks for reading this way too long bs with no real point whatsoever #If you read this book and got something out of it. Feel free to talk to me about it I'll be normal #Or even if you didn't get anything out of it. I don't know anyone else personally who has read this book #Yve's Thoughts.

[lgbtlunaverse]

This page from the adventurer's bible makes me want to cry

Like basically any neurodivergent dungeon meshi fan, I see a lot of myself in the Touden siblings. But I was blindsided by just how much I suddenly related to Falin in this little comic from the adventure bible's complete version.

It's about the Touden siblings' differing relationships with their parents, and why Laios still holds their treatment of Falin against them, while Falin herself doesn't.

We know that Falin was isolated and ostraziced by their village after she saved Laios from a ghost, displaying her uncanny affinity for magic. Her parents, instead of defending her, sent her away, which angered Laios so much he ran way himself before Falin even left for magic school, hoping to make a living so he and Falin could live together alone.

He tells Marcile this, but when she goes to Falin, she says she sees things differently. Her father sent her to magic school to protect her form the rest of the village without having to cause a conflict. He didn't explain that, and we actually see her burst into tears when he says it.

But, well... Laios was gone for a year before Falin went to magic school, and everyone else in the village avoided her. The understanding Falin has with her parents to me looks like one borne out of necessity, she literally didn't have anyone else to talk to.

And this is where we get to the page that made me want to cry

Like I said, I relate to the Toudens because I'm neurodivergent myself. that feeling of suddenly realizing you're disliked, but not knowing what you did wrong or what you should have done instead? Yeah... that's one I recognize.

When I was around 9 years old, the same age Falin is in this comic, a bunch of kids in my class decided to make a "game" where you lost if you touched me. It was basically the 'cheese-touch' from diary of a wimpy kid, except I always had it and couldn't pass it along. They'd pretend I was poisonous or disgusting and run away from me screaming or gagging. The point was to make fun of me. But my autistic little 9 year old ass thought "Oh I get it! It's tag but I'm always it!" So I... played along. Running at a boy and having him fall on the ground screaming in fake pain because you tapped him is, in isolation, pretty funny.

It wasn't until months into the "game" that I realized it was meant to be meanspirited. That the reason I was the one who was always 'it' wasn't an arbritrary rule but the whole point. Because I was weird and gross. I wasn't in on the joke, I was the punchline.

Falin may have come to understand her parents' intentions, but she didn't always. The adventure bible actually tells us that she at first didn't even notice that the rest of their village disliked her. She clearly knows now, but she had to be told. So when her mom tried to exorcise her, she just saw it as an activity she got to do with a mother she usually didn't get to spend much time with because of her poor health. It's only Laios who notices something is wrong.

(Sidenote, Laios being hyper-aware of people's poor attitudes towards Falin but completely blindsided when he's in the same spot, like with Toshiro, is also very relatable as an eldest sibling)

It probably also took Falin months, until after her brother had left and she had no one but her parents, to realize why her mother had been doing all those things.

And I know they're not the same. Even misguidedly, Falin's mom was trying to help her, not make fun of her like those boys in my class. (Though, as a queer person who also cares a lot about the queercoding in Falin's storyline, a parent trying to 'exorcise' their child of a fundamental part of them the parent thinks is evil or corruptive? yeah... that's not perfectly wholesome)

But do you know what I did, when I finally figured out the game was always meant to make fun of me?

To me, it looked like I had a choice.

See, those boys eventually figured out I didn't understand that they were being mean to me. I'd laugh every time I managed to catch one of them, I was visibly having fun. And while it no doubt only made me more of a weirdo in their eyes, they never informed me that I shouldn't be enjoying myself. That the point was for me to feel hurt.

So now that I did know, I had a choice. I could either get upset, and let the insult land as it was supposed to. That wouldn't stop them, because making fun of me was the original goal. Or I could ignore it and go on as usual. They had already accepted that I didn't get it, and they weren't gona stop me from having fun, so why should I?

And the thing is that I had... one friend, in that whole class. One person who actually liked talking to me and hanging out with me. I was lonely. And the 'game' provided me with another social interaction, mean-spirited as it was, that I desperately needed. And it was so delightfully simple. Navigating actual friendships as a kid with autism and adhd was so fucking complicated, and I'd never know when I might break an inivisble rule. But I knew the rules to the game perfectly!

Sometimes, if I was chasing one of them, the others would trap him and hold him down so I could tap him. In those moments it actually did kind of feel like I was playing with them, rather than against them. And it didn't change much, they didnt start actually liking me. But they were willing to roll with the fact that I wasn't upset, and I took advantage of that because I needed to.

So you can look at Falin seeing the best in her parents as her being naïve, but I look at this page and I see myself, at first unable to differentiate between playing and being made fun of. And then later, when I did see the difference, deciding not to get mad about it because that'd mean losing that social interaction, and I couldn't afford to.

Like I said, Falin probably first realized this in the year she spent with her brother gone, and everyone else avoiding her like the plague. If she refused to talk to her parents, like Laios did, she'd have no one left.

I see a lot of people relating to the fight between Laios and Toshiro. that frustration when you realize someone you thougth was your friend actually hates you, and they never said anything, never gave you a chance to fix it because you had no idea that you were even doing something wrong! And I can see that, too. But sometimes, when people don't fully hate you, it feels better to go along with the pretending. Because adressing it won't fix it. Because the problem isn't a specific behaviour, it's you. And if they're willing to tolerate you, despite the fact that it's you, then you'll take it. Because other people do hate you, so this is the best you'll get.

#dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi meta #falin touden #laios touden #neurodivegent #autism #adhd #long post #this one got REAL personal oops

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am I the asshole for calling a (now ex-) mutual a stingy asshole?

So to start, I (NB20) am in a pretty rough situation, I'm facing homelessness soon, transphobia at home and work and my hours have been getting cut resulting in me making even less money that can sustain me. I have a toyhou.se forum post up stating I have emergency commissions open to help me out and to please support me if you can. This is where the situation begins. I have a mutual on toyhou.se who I'll call Apple (MTF22) I talk to sometimes to the point I'd say we are friends, not super close but friends nonetheless. She made a bulletin telling people about my commissions and to please comm me if they could which I'm very grateful for since I did get a few customers from her because of that. The thing is, a few weeks later, she made a bulletin talking about how happy she was so many commissions she bought were finished around the same time and posted all of them with the artists tagged in the post. It was honestly... quite a few, I'm talking like 9 pieces of art of her fursona and even a custom vtuber model she got of her sona. I was going to reply all happy for her, but it made me think... how much did she spend on those commissions?? So I went through all the artists socials to find their commission prices and came to a total of fucking $385!!! More than half of my current goal I'm trying to make through commissions to stay out of homelessness!! So I messaged Apple saying since I saw she bought a few commissions if she was interested in buying a comm from me. She replies saying "Ohh! I'd love to <333 but im just not in a place to buy any more comms right now :< sorry >.<!!" So I casually reply really? because it seems like your in the perfect place to help me out after already spending over $300 in commissions. She tells me she's sorry and really wishes someone would be able to help me out but she just wasn't that interested in my art or a custom to which I tell her she could've easily donated to my ko-fi which I have always had since she clearly has money to spend? To this, she straight up IP blocks me. So still fucking annoyed, I vented in a discord server I share with a few friends from being in a few shared CS together, saying how annoying it is rich assholes like her would drop half a thousand for a picture of their fursona but don't even blink twice at their so called friends. anyway, one of my friends takes a look at Apples th profile and notices she has a new bulletin up and sends me a screenshot, but anways the bulletin reads like "hey!! just saying, but please dont come into my dms acting like you know my financial situation better than i do, just because i buy a lot of commissions doesnt mean im made of money! and please dont think that me commisioning artist 1 means i hate artist 2? thats so weird, thanks!!!!!" and seeing all their subscribers just kissing her ass pissed me off so i made my own bulletin that just stated "i thought it was pretty fucking weird to know how bad ur friend's situation was and to go buy a bunch of comms instead of buying a comm from or even throwing a buck to help me out? like yeah im gonna think i know ur situation better than u, you stingy fuck!!!" Anyway, she mustve been block evading (which I reported her for) since she unblocked me, took a screenshot of my bulletin, then went on about how she lived in an abusive household; her dad had thrown her into a sink and chipped her tooth, bruised half her face and scarred it pretty badly. She bought a bunch of commissions immediately afterwards in a panic to make herself feel better, paying everything with her savings. Which to me.. isn't an excuse. Ive been hit and abused and still found scraps of money to pull together to give to mutuals who need it and Ive been bumping my own post like crazy and she had literal weeks to donate or comm me. Not to mention Ive had exmutuals of hers come to me saying that shes never donated anything to them either despite advertising their posts but always had money for plushies, comms and other crap, meaning Im not alone in thinking shes a stingy asshole. This is getting long, so here, tumblr AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[honkthehenry]

unnamed slime game - part 1

Masterlist

The way you suddenly snapped into awareness without realizing you drifted off at all was something akin to having a bucket of ice-cold water thrown into your face.

You... dozed off in class again. In hindsight, it was inevitable – the last time you got hours of sleep instead of something in-between nothing at all and a 2-hour-nap was last Saturday. You've been running on nothing but bitter, cheap coffee and sheer spite for almost a week now, it was high time you finally crashed.

Still, you should have woken up at Uni. You should have woken up to your professor huffing and puffing and glowering in your face about your terrible conduct, about how your generation had no respect for his generation, about how such a complicated and beautiful science like Robotics was not a place for slackers like you (which, fair, you had no idea what you were doing in Robotics either), not... alone and certaintly not in the middle of a forest.

You ran through a bunch of scenarios quickly, but none stuck.

Kidnapping? Far-fetched at best. You lived alone, only barely making ends meet by running yourself into the ground as you tried to marry working retail with being a full-time student, so ransom was out of the question and being kidnapped for the sake of doing bad things to you... Why bother? You didn't know anyone nearly well enough to be kidnapped due to personal feelings and you were neither good-looking enough (perpetually tired goblin that you were) nor famous-, connected- or skilled enough to be kidnapped randomly.

Besides, you were at the University, on the 5th floor, in the middle of the city that had no forests for miles! You were surrounded by 20-odd other people, there was no way someone would be able to kidnap you with so many witnesses around.

So, not kidnapping.

Dream then?

Also unlikely. Your dreams were few and far-between and when they did happen, it was either you being surrounded by characters from the show you happened to be fixated on at the time or it was you getting repeatedly chased and swallowed whole by a dinosaur on a loop, until the dream finally ended (probably Jurasic Park childhood trauma, now that you thought about it).

Still.

This was so weird, because you knew for a fact you were much too aware of everything to be dreaming and yet the things you saw didn't makes sense at all!

You didn't have any arms for one!

And your body was purple!

You could feel electricity zapping at your body and it didn't hurt, it was more like being swallowed in a blanket burrito and nursing a comforting mug of hot chocolate, while watching your favourite show with no worry for deadlines or money!

You weren't supposed to feel like that, you were supposed to be tired and grumpy and irritable and not nice and not toasty and certaintly not so comfortable!

Drugs? Hallucinations? You never partaked, you didn't drink alcohol either, so that was a no—

—A purple crystal you were under zapped at you again and you positively melted on the spot, basking in the feeling and letting the troublesome train of thought go like the wind, before it inevitably derailed and caused you undue anxiety as it always did.

...it was very nice actually.

Maybe losing opposable thumbs wasn't so bad if you got this in exchange.

You could live like this.

×•×•×•× Honk!!! Corner ווו×

You know that one post lurking on Tumblr where OP is turned into a frog by a witch as revenge? And just vibes? Basks in the sun without worrying about life? This is MC now.

I don't care how long or how short chapters are, they're just gonna vibe as they are because I am a goblin with a short attention span and no actual ability to write.

Something to get you thinking - MC is an electro slime for a reason and that reason is electro immunity.

I wonder why?

*smiling like a particularly smug cat*

Did I mention I can't draw lightning/electricity? Because I can't, so I didn't.

Also fvck me, my tags didn't saveeeeee 😭

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #sagau x reader #sagau #except sagau part is slow burn #isekai #genshin isekai #x reader #x gn reader #x gender neutral reader #x gn y/n #x y/n #x you #electro slime mc #slime mc #unnamed slime game

[antimony-medusa]

hi saw your daddy kink post discussing the phenomenon of giving grown characters surrogate parental relationships, and I understand where you’re coming from, but i really feel like it’s just a matter of the circles you run in, and the assumptions that you might make because of that. you mention how platonic reads of these dynamics are more uncommon than kinky reads, which i just don’t think is the case, and I think that arguing that people don’t even realize that they’re writing a kink is a little bit bizarre, and sort of assumes that you know more abt them than they do by projecting your own experiences onto them.

it isn’t inherently sexual to crave protection or a parental relationship that you may have missed out on, and it is certainly not universal. in my own family, my “grandpa” isnt my biological grandfather (nor do I really consider him to be my grandfather), but he’s my mother’s surrogate father and has been since she was in her twenties. an adult. he sees her as a daughter. she sees him as a father. there’s absolutely nothing kinky about it. and anybody who automatically assumes that must have their mind deep, deep in the gutter and/or the stranger side of the Internet. really, i find it a bit of a strange argument to randomly post in the first place—as if it’s a problem that so many people enjoy non romantic and non sexual relationships, and that these people must, in fact, have a daddy kink that they are unaware of.

that said, i do absolutely agree that fans bringing any part of that into phil’s chat is weird and they should Not do that, and that infantilizing characters is also very weird, and personally i dont even see him as being father figure to anybody on that island except his eggs, wilbur, and MAYBE an argument could be made for tubbo (which other cc’s on the island have joked about), but to each their own and all that.

sorry this is so long. TLDR, i get where ur coming from in terms of “warning , some people might read your stuff differently than you want here” but really not everything is a kink and paternal dynamics can easily happen in regards to adult characters, particularly young adults, without there being any inappropriate connotations. i know nothing i said will change your mind, obviously it’s set, but ykno diff perspectives and all that. hope ur doing well

Thank you for the ask! I see you were on mobile, I believe. :D I am also going to push the character limit with this response, I fear.

I agree that it isn't inhernetly sexual to go after a parental relationship that you missed out on, and there are many such cases. I'll even go so far as to say that it's not inherently kinky to go after a parental relationship that you missed out on, because there is such a thing as non-sexual kink, and heaven knows that MCYT writing is full of non-sexual kink. Lots and lots of stuff that is platonic that is kinking on fear, or being drugged, or kidnapping, or hypnosis, or familial relationships, etc— there's lots of people who aren't doing that. There are tons of people out in the real world (and in fiction), who are simply just expanding their family as an adult, and that's awesome. When I was in college there was this older couple who kind of adopted me and invited me over for thursday dinner, and they were awesome. There was nothing untoward going on there.

But look. I am an emduo fan who likes to see my guys be murdery, and because of that, I've ended up reading a bunch of Dark SBI. I've ocassionally gone "this cannot be what everyone is doing" and I've read stuff tagged as "family fluff" that I find recommended. I am aware of where the genre is going, particularly with the rise of "dadbur" and "dadnoblade" interpretations.

And look, you have just got to trust me on this one. People are writing stuff that in any other fandom I would be recommending they put kink tags on the work so that people who liked that trope could find it and people who didn't like it would avoid it, but that comment in DSMP would just lead to people getting doxxed, so I just grit my teeth and go "i guess that's baked into Dark SBI or Tooth Rotting Fluff now, I sure hope that doesn't hit anybody's triggers".

Like I PROMISE you. The first draft of this response included excerpts of fics that I've read and I was like "can YOU pick the ship fic from the /p fics here"? But I have a horror of ever leading to someone getting cancelled on twitter, so nothing that could possibly be identifiable of these writers. But like—

Some of the ways that Tommy gets treated in the narrative are almost indistinguishable from a bodice-ripper romance. Some of the tropes being used— within DSMP we've all clasped hands and agreed to interpret it being platonic, but in any other fandom, you are going to start getting comments that you might not want to get. The tag is FULL of stuff that is DD/LB in everything but name. Maybe my mind is in the gutter here, but if you move out of this fandom, you are going to move into circles where a lot of people's minds are in the gutter, and you are going to get a very different response from your comments!

And I was talking about daddy kink here specifically, because I see that one come up a lot and it's gotten egregious lately, but this also applies to dehumanization, and fearplay, and predator/prey, and "instincts" (in every other fandom that's gonna get people in a mashup of A/B/O, Hypnosis, and sometimes Agere responding to it), and kidnapping/drugging, AND the way a bunch of "piglin instincts" stuff is just a BDSM au now where the Brute (dom) needs to be callmed down by their Runt (sub). The SBI tag is super kinky right now. And I don't have a problem with that idealogically, write your truth, but a) please don't bring that up in front of the streamers, b) if you move to another fandom you have got to be prepared that not everyone is doing their kink platonically.

Like I'm assuming that people don't know what tropes they're playing into, they're just building them from first principles, because the other alternative is that they are deliberately and knowingly writing kink and posting it in the & relationship tag with insufficient trigger tags, and I prefer to believe that people don't know.

I'm glad we agree about people bringing that into Phi's chat, or Pol's, or Luzu, or any of the other streamers that people have decided is So Old. A lot of people aren't comfortable even being assigned dad, as we saw with Felps, so bringing it even further is just— uh oh, no.

I do not have a problem with people liking non-romantic and non-sexual relationships. I find it a bit odd that much of the fandom can't concieve of a non-romantic and non-sexual relationship without making it familial and specifically lately father-son— don't you have close friends?— but I am fully in support of gen writing. I primarily write gen! I'm an avid commentor on gen fics!

But some of the tropes at play in the fandom are kinky, there is no way to avoid that. The fact that they are set in a familial relationship doesn't negate that. Some of the ways that the DSMP characters get treated would be distinctly non-familial if you ever brought it out of that context. And I am just warning people, if you bring it out of that context, be prepared for the response you get.

You cannot take DSMP tropes and apply them one-to-one in other fandoms, with other streamers swapped in, and expect them to be read the same way. Like i'm sorry, but that's just true. If you are posting the same sort of stuff that for Cellbit & Phil that you would post for Tommy & Phil, people will assume that you have a daddy kink, because usually when a relationship between a adults that are actually similar in age is refered to with paternal language it's a kink thing. That is how the broader internet works. (And anon, if I had a daddy kink, would I be complaining about the fact that I can open any SBI fic and have about a 40% chance of hitting it and I'm seeing signs of this appearing in QSMP? I assure you I'm not "projecting [my] own experiences onto them" here.)

#long post #anon #discourse #ask #fandom meta

[erospandemos]

Let's get out of here

Jinsoul x Reader

Length: 3.8k

Tags: fluff, drunken confession, best friend

Shoutout to @a-casual-kpopfan for making me a Jinsoul simp.

Note: This is a work of fiction. Don't drunk drive. Call a cab.

Alcohol in an old plastic cup wasn’t the best, it didn’t taste good, and you would have surely preferred a fruit juice, but nobody at this party drank it for the taste anyway. You kept on drinking, tilting your head back to get the last drops out of your red cup. You tried not to drink too much and be responsible but looking around, you couldn’t see any water at all so you swallowed the rest of your beer-flavored saliva. 

You leaned against the wall and scanned the room for the 10th time this night. You didn’t know whose house this was. You only knew it was a house. You weren’t the type of person to come to parties but when Jinsoul begged you to go with those puppy eyes, you couldn’t resist and left without asking many questions. You didn’t even change your clothes after your part-time and just hopped in your car with your very excited best friend and drove off.

The music was too loud in your ears, the drums hit in your chest and the bass vibrated throughout all your body. The lights were low so you couldn’t avoid stepping on every kind of litter on the floor, sometimes even people. Everyone kept bumping into you while they were dancing, pushing you left and right. 

You kept walking straight through the herd of dancers until a girl bumped you harder than anyone else and looked you in the eyes. To your surprise, it was Jinsoul, with shaky legs and a half-filled cup.

“Oh, there you are. I've been looking for you,” she mumbled. Jinsould held onto one of your hands and with a yelp started moving wildly around you, taking you around the room. She reeked of alcohol, and so you did, but you knew for a fact she drank almost five times as much. 

“You’re making me dizzy, stop it,” you complained, holding onto her shoulder to not fall into some stranger.

“Man, you gotta relax a little, you’re too stiff,” she laughed and started jumping around as if the music seeped into her veins, her hair bouncing into your face and arms at every movement. Blinded and deafened, you were at the mercy of Jinsoul. 

“No, you’re too loose… Stop it, please.”

You didn’t know for how long you stayed in the house, there wasn’t a clock but it had gotten dark. It was starting to feel way too cramped in that place, a lot more guests arrived and you desperately needed fresh air. 

When Jinsoul’s energy ended, she slumped on you. Your best friend’s body was like a bag of potatoes, she couldn’t stand straight anymore and was all over you. “Where have you been?” Jinsoul murmured into your shoulder.

“I was telling Chuu not to jump into the pool.”

“Huh? Oh, why did you have to keep,” she hiccups, “Chuu from jumping into the pool?”

“Because we're on the second floor.” 

“Yeah, that makes sense. Chuu must be really drunk.”

“Just as much as you are,” you sighed. 

“What, me? No, I'm not drunk. You know me. I don't drink. I always have one glass of wine for New Year's and Christmas and stuff. And sometimes I have a beer when people tell me that we should all have a beer like soccer and barbecue, you know, beer-drinking activities. But aside from that, I do not drink. And that's why I am not drunk.”

“What about all the cups you had before? I saw you,” you said and her eyes shot quickly to you, she rolled her lips in a displeased frown and shrugged her shoulders, “Oh yeah that.”

Jinsoul leaned back onto the wall, her eyes nothing but black orbs in that dark room as she looked around up and down. “Oh yeah, I had a couple of drinks. These guys here keep pushing drinks on me,” she started and you couldn’t help but feel a weird feeling creeping up your neck.

“They were trying to get you drunk, huh? What a bunch of creeps.”

“What? No no no no no no. Those people are really nice. They keep handing me drinks. I think they really like me,” Jinsoul gushed in an incoherent ball of words.  “We're friends now. I want to follow them on Twitter but I can't unlock my phone because my phone is on the password doesn't work.”

“Did you forget your password?” you asked. When Jinsoul gets drunk, she becomes a mess. She doesn’t stop talking and can’t even tell numbers apart. Being her best friend for so long, you have already seen this scenario multiple times. 

“What? No. I never forget my password. My password is your name and your birthday and I wouldn't forget your birthday no matter how drunk you are or if I am or both. I would remember your birthday because I bought you that game that you keep gushing about that isn't out yet. I wasn't quite sure whether I should buy it for you because I was worried you might spend more time on it than hanging out with me but you seem like you really wanted it so I bought it for you. And well I didn't want to tell you that. There was some really important reason not to tell you but I can't really remember it right now…”

You raised an eyebrow. You didn’t know if you should have been surprised or confused, because you didn’t really believe what she was saying. Anyhow, it was clear how wasted Jinsoul was, and being her ride, you understood it was the time to get her out of here, now that she could still walk or try to.

“Well never mind I'm sure it will come back to me eventually…” she kept speaking as you pulled her arm. “Hey where are we going?” she whined, trying to pull the other way.

“To my car, Jinsoul.”

“Why? Why do you want to drive me home?” 

“Yeah, that’s why.”

“Do you want to come to my apartment so you can like be alone with me?” Jinsoul smirked.

“Let’s say it’s like that,” you said. You didn’t want to talk any further as her head was completely empty now. Who knew where she was getting with that, her imagination was always wild.

“I knew it!” she screamed. Fortunately noobody seemed to notice her in the midst of the loud music so you were spared from the embarrassment you have to usually endure when you were out with her. “knew that, I totally knew that,” she said again then dramatically waved in the air, spinning around, “Bye everybody!”

“I'm going to go home with my best friend. He's my um... D-dissed... disem... demated... demated driver and isn't he so cute?”

“It’s designated driver,” you corrected her. “Let’s go now.” 

“Hey! Not so hasty. I didn't even finish my drink.”

“Come on, do it quickly.”

“Okay fine. Just let me finish it okay? Mmm... yeah.” She chugged all her drink down, groaning in satisfaction, then some quick steps followed before she fell again. You quickly raised your arm to catch her and step back to stand upright. Jinsoul’s body was drooping all over you.

“Oh I feel dizzy,” she tried to say. “If you want some advice, don't mix rum with tequila. We put something in that rum that doesn't go with tequila like at all. Hmm... Why are you hugging me?”

“I’m not hugging you, I’m preventing you from breaking your damn head.”

“I mean I'm not complaining,” she muttered under her breath as if she didn’t hear anything of what you said. “I always love it when you hug me but…”

She tried to stand up and move away from you. You kept telling her she wasn’t okay but she didn’t want to hear you. Jinsoul stood up, putting her arms out to show you that she was just fine, then her legs wobbled and she fell onto you once again.

“Okay okay okay okay okay seriously obviously I can't. Maybe you should hug me again. Thank you.”

You were feeling weird from being this close to her. Maybe because you liked her. No maybe, that was why. You looked at her eyes, totally relaxed and sleepy. Jinsoul smiled, like the dork she was, and got closer to you, almost bumping your noses.

“Did I ever tell you that your eyes are like really pretty this close up?” she whispered. Her voice was warm and sultry—her charms were starting to have an effect on you. Those were the times when you must not listen to your head at all, telling you to kiss her. But that wouldn’t be right and you knew it.

Jinsoul closed her eyes for a brief moment so she could take a breath and raise her chin even closer to you. You shivered. “Are you falling asleep?” you said.

“Huh? What? No! Who is falling asleep? I closed my eyes because it was romantic. I was leaning in for a kiss but you missed your cue when you just left me hanging here with my eyes closed. So this is totally your fault,” she blurted out all at once.

“What did just you say?”

“Yeah, for a kiss. We are at a party. We are hugging and I'm looking into your eyes. Therefore, kiss.” 

“You’re saying dumb stuff, shut up, let’s go home,” you said and tried to move but Jinsoul clinched your arm. You were really holding back here. Jinsoul was making this way too  hard for you, you might kiss her for real if she kept that up.

“No, I don't want to go home,” she insisted. “We haven't kissed yet. Here, let's try it again,” Jinsoul said and closed her eyes, pecking her lips. You didn’t do anything. “Hey, you missed your cue again. Seriously, honey, I am drunk and I know how kissing works. You must need a refresher course or something.”

“As if you know how to kiss.”

“Huh? Yeah, I kiss. You never kiss me even though I want you to.”

“W-what did you just say? Did—how am I supposed to know?!”

“Okay. Well, maybe that's because I never tell you that I want you to because... Well, there was a reason. I'm pretty sure of that but... What was it again? I didn't want you to know that I always think about kissing you that... But why didn't I want you to know that? Anyway, can you kiss me now? Come on.”

“No.” 

“Hey, why not?” You could feel her shuffling closer to you, even more than she already was, and the warmth of the blossoming feeling in your heart that was burning more than any alcohol you have drunk that night. Jinsoul traced her fingers, against your chest, ignoring the crowded room and you fell into the wall.

She didn’t push you, your legs just got weak.

“You’re drunk, you don’t know what you’re doing,” you stuttered. “You can’t give consent in this state.” 

“No, I totally am able to give contempt.”

“No, Jinsoul, you’re drunk, you aren’t thinking straight.”

“I am totally able to say I want this. I am. You're just not kissing me because I'm drunk. You're drunkphobic,” Jinsoul started speaking. She was rambling in the most silly of ways but, in the midst of the crowd, you could only look at her eyes glistening with the rotating colorful lights. “You are totally discriminating against me. And that's against the constant, oh, it's against my rights.”

“It isn’t.” 

“It is.”

“It isn’t.” 

“All right. Okay. Will you at least kiss me when I'm sober again?”

“Only if you brush your teeth first. You smell of alcohol.”

“Well, of course, okay, yeah. Um, so that's a yes then. Yay. I love you. Hey, do you know something that will sober me up faster?”

“Stop drinking.” 

“Oh, so we're like a doctor now, are we? Come on, can I at least have a hug? Yeah, so wet I grabbed your butt. I always wanted to. Whenever I see it, and I haven't yet because there really isn't a good reason to just do it. But the heck, I can't remember it right now, like why I wouldn't. So, I believe it was probably the same reason why I never tell you that I want to kiss you or that I'm in love with you.” 

“You’re in love with… me?”

“Hmm? Yeah, I'm in love with you silly. Why did it take you this long to figure that out? I mean, what was I supposed to do?”

“Tell me?” 

“Silly, I couldn't tell you. Because if I had told you then you would have known and that... Actually, now that I think about it, it doesn't make a whole lot of sense. Sorry, sober me is kind of stupid, apparently. Can I have another iced tea? Hey, what are you staring at? Keep your hands off, he's mine.” 

“They aren’t staring at you, but at me. Chill.”

“What? She was staring at you? You're mine. People are always staring at you and talking to you and flirting with you and you always... Oh my god, it always... it always gets me super angry and I can't say anything because I have to keep it a secret for some reason, but like I can't really remember which one right now, so…” 

“Come on,” Jinsoul puckered her lips again. “Give me a kiss so they can see that you're taken.”

“No,” you snatched back at her, ignoring how her words tugged at your heartstrings. It was insane how she made your heart pound even while she was this blubbering drunk mess. 

“Dang. What was I talking about? Oh yeah. You wanted to drive me home, right? Your home or my home? Because I'm fine with either.”

“Your home,” you said a bit harsher. 

“Okay, my home… I don't think I have anything to drink at home.”

“That’s good news.” 

“You know, like just water and stuff, but I do have snacks. Ooh, can we cuddle when we get there? Or do you just want to like put me to bed?” 

You think carefully. It was just cuddling, right? Nothing bad. It wasn’t like you would have taken advantage of your best friend, if anything you were there to take care of her and help her fall asleep faster. The offer sounded very appealing, but no. “I just want to bring you home so you can sleep.”

“Oh, you do. Oh, now we're coming on strong. Not too shabby for someone who didn't know how to kiss a minute ago. I like it,” Jinsoul exclaimed, pointing a finger at you as if she shot you with Cupid’s arrow and winked.

You sighed happily. “No, you have to sleep, Jinsoul.”

“What? No, I don't need to sleep. Hey, you can take it slow if you want like cuddle. Don't you like me?” Jinsoul moved her head down, seemingly pouting at you. The alcohol amplified her feelings by 1000% and suddenly she got emotional and teary-eyed. She spoke softly and looked at you even softer. You felt her pulling you a bit and noticed her hand on your sleeve. 

“I went to this stupid party because I wanted you to have fun and I'm always super nice to you and I always look you in your eyes and play with your hair and bite my lip because just because that would make you fall in love with me and now you tell me that it didn't work?”

Her words bounced off of you at first and you didn’t notice what she was saying, assuming she was just rambling mindlessly. But then you stopped walking and thought about what she said for a moment. It was on purpose? So you weren’t just going crazy, it was her! So many days, you spent going insane over her—one day she’d be your usual dorky friend, and the next, she’d look insanely hot and irresistible. Yes, she did have a very funny personality but she was a lady and her hips didn’t lie.

With your heart almost beating out of your chest, you leaned down and looked at Jinsoul in the eyes. She was still grumpy and wrinkled her nose to look angry. But she was cute.

“No, I think it worked,” you managed to say. Then you let out a breathy chuckle, squishing her cheeks with both your hands and forcing her eyes not to look anywhere else. “Jinsoul, of course, it worked, you’re such a pretty and funny girl, there’s no way I wouldn’t have fallen for you.”

“Huh? Wait. So, do you like me?” Jinsoul let her teeth brush her bottom lip as her mouth slowly opened on its own and she stared at you with wide eyes, her hair falling down to her shoulders, enchantingly so. 

“Yeah.” You told her, with the softness of someone that knew had to say it at least 100 more times. You nodded your head and Jinsoul smiled.

“Yay, I knew it,” she cheered. “Come here,” she blurted and grabbed your face, brushing her nose with yours. Your mind started to run wild—you didn’t have anywhere to go, your hands were on her face and so were hers on yours. But then she stopped. “Oh, oh wait, wait, um, sorry. I have to wait till I'm sober again, right?”

She let go of your face and you let out a sigh of relief. “So that means like we could kiss tomorrow morning, right?” Those small words were filled with hope and desperation.

“No, you’ll be hangover.” 

“No, what? I'm not gonna hang over. I never have.” 

“You always do.”

“Oh. Well, will you be there to protect me?” She sulked. 

“Yeah, fine,” you laugh. Of course, you’d be there for her, like you always had. 

“Yay. I don't mind if I get a hangover as long as you're there to snuggle me. And did you have snacks at home? It's gonna be awesome. You know what, we don't need this stupid party. Come on. Let's get going.”

You pulled Jinsoul from the kitchen to the hallway, trying your best not to let her fall into anyone. On her way out, she would wave at anyone she met before and scream about how happy she was. When you got to the door, you noticed the little step and didn’t stumble on it—you were sober enough—but Jinsoul didn’t and she tripped into you. 

You caught her full weight and stumbled back. Jinsoul leaned in close, her breath slightly sweet with the lingering scent of alcohol, and her eyes glistening with mischief.

"Darling, look at you, you’re so eager to hold me already,” she said playfully. “Why didn't you tell me you were such a handsome devil?"

You sighed and pushed her back upright. 

"Thanks, Jinsoul. Now let's get you home before you start flirting with everyone."

“What are you saying?! I’m only doing this with you!”

“Whatever you say.” You try to get Jinsoul back on track but she stumbles again, holding you by the neck, her face dangerously close to yours. She hiccups and shakes her head in pain. A moment of thought and you realize she wasn’t putting up a show but was really unable to walk. You have no other option but to drag her to the car yourself.

You walked arm in arm, Jinsoul's head occasionally resting on your shoulder as she giggled and flirted with you along the way. Jinsoul looked like she was dreaming, continuously spewing nonsense. It was a long walk to the car, doing your best not to look tired because Jinsoul would get offended if you gave her any hint of her being heavy.

Once you reached your car, you put Jinsoul down inside the back door and she climbed into the backseat. With a loud sigh, you finally get at the driving wheel and take your breath. With your hands on the wheel, you tap your fingers, trying to gain back all your sanity to not crash your car. 

"You're the best, you know that?" Jinsoul whines while slumping down.

“I'm just doing what any good friend would do."

"No, really, you're my hero tonight. My knight in shining armor!" she screamed. “Also, you said you’d be my boyfriend… we confessed to each other!”

“Alright, alright,” you ignored her words and started driving.

Arriving at her apartment complex, you helped her out of the car and walked up to her unit together. Jinsoul clung to your arm, you could feel the warmth of her body and how soft it was. Your cheeks heated up and your heart was racing.  She knew perfectly what she was doing and was nowhere near stopping.

"You know, you could stay the night with me. We could have so much fun!" Jinsoul said with a wide grin.

 "Jinsoul, you need to rest. I'll stay until you fall asleep, but that's it."

Once inside, you managed to convince her to sit down on the couch while you fetched a glass of water from the kitchen. Jinsoul finally calmed down, she was too tired at this point, and she continued to watch you from afar.  You handed her the glass of water, and she took a few sips. You stayed with her, chatting about random topics to keep her mind occupied.

After some time, Jinsoul's eyelids grew heavy, and her flirtatious energy began to wane. She yawned and snuggled up on the couch, looking more and more adorable. She slipped on your lap and her arms fell to the floor. You let out a chuckle but didn’t move, instead, you caressed her hair, looking at her beautiful face. You took some time to properly observe her beauty because, after all, you deserved it.

“Honey, I’m so tired…” Jinsoul whined.

“I know, I know, you have to sleep now.”

“You know I really need something—someone—to hug…” she said while eyeing you, “It’s not going to be anything bad I swear. I just need some comfortable hugging partner so I can fall asleep better, what do you say?”

“Uhhh…”

“Will you refuse?”

“I…”

-The next day-

You wake up on your own, your head is still pounding lightly and your body is extremely tired. You look at the ceiling: it’s of an unfamiliar color. You try to get up but something is holding you down. Your first instinct is to look down and you see a leg, then you move your eyes closer and see an arm. You turn around and see the culprit, Jinsoul.

There, beside you lies a sleeping Jinsoul, wearing a cute pajama, and a cute headband. She shuffles lightly and snuggles closers, stroking her face to your shoulder, letting out incomprehensible noises.

“Five more minutes, honey, you’re so warm,” she says with a sultry voice.

What the fuck?

THE END

Written, 20 July 2023 -23 July 2023

#kpop fluff #fluff #odd eye circle #jinsoul #loona #artms #jinsoul fluff #loona fluff

[shifterbee]

WARNING: LONG POST AHEAD

My Relationship With Reality Shifting

What I'm going to be talking about:

How I found out about shifting

My initial thoughts/ feelings about shifting

What led me to believe in shifting

Why I don't doubt that shifting is real

What doubts I do have (let's be honest, not everyone can be completely free of doubts)

My approach to shifting when I first started

My current approach to shifting

I didn't want this post to be too long so if you want/need me to explain anything further then let me know <3

Any trigger warnings will be in place wherever may be necessary <3

How it all started:

Like many people in this community, I first found out about shifting through TikTok in 2020. In my case, it was around mid-September when I was scrolling through my FYP and saw the video that changed my life forever.

OK, that was a bit dramatic, but you get the point. The video that I saw was this girl acting out something that she claimed happened in her DR. The scene went something like this (my memory is really blurry, so bear with me):

She had just shifted back to her DR, and It was during the battle at Hogwarts. there were a bunch of people coming up to her saying things like "Where did you go?" and "We missed you so much"(your typical 2020 misinformation). the battle was starting, and she looked at everyone and said, "I know what will help us. everyone close your eyes, trust me." IDK, I think she was trying to group shift everyone out of her DR???? either way it didn't work but when they opened their eyes the portals from Avengers Endgame(I think) started opening up and the Avengers stepped out of them. Her reaction to that was like "Well I guess that also works".

There might have been more to it, but that's all I can remember right now. Also PLEASE tell me if you also saw that video and/or remember who posted it. I wonder what they're doing now.

At first, I was a little confused, but then I looked at the tags and saw one that said: "reality shifting." at this time, my FYP was filled with a bunch of fanfic-related stuff, So I guess because of that, I just assumed that reality shifting was just a weird fanfic tope used in crossover fics. I was also sort of on DracoTok, so I wasn't really confused about why I would be seeing Harry Potter fanfic on my FYP.

I scrolled away from the video and didn't think much of it until a few days later when I looked up the tag and saw a bunch of videos with advice and methods on how to shift. at this point I was very confused and I was just thinking "Wait, are these people being fr". After scrolling through the tag for a bit I found a video explaining what it was.

I don't know who made that video. But one thing I do know is that I have never doubted the existence of shifting since.

Why I started believing:

I'm just going to use bullet points for this section. but if you want me to go into more detail about anything, let me know.

my prior knowledge/belief of out-of-body experiences (i.e. astral projection)

my belief that humans are always more powerful than what we usually think/believe.

Also, potential TW: brief mention of drugs

probably the biggest reason was a story I heard from a YouTuber about one of his friends who, after taking DMT, claimed to have lived in a forest with elves for 3 years and was able to give a detailed description of what happened in those 3 years. The story I'm talking about is about 10 minutes into this video I immediately thought of this story when I saw videos of people talking about their experiences in their DRs. And since this drug is something that can be naturally produced by the brain, it didn't seem like much of a stretch to suggest that you could trigger its production without taking any drugs.

I want to make it very clear that I am not promoting or encouraging the use of drugs/illegal substances in order to shift.

My approach to shifting then vs. now:

I have always treated shifting like a skill. At first, I thought that if I practiced the methods/techniques I learned from Shifttok enough, I would eventually have to shift.

Now, I treat shifting as something you allow yourself to do rather than force. It's kind of like sleeping. The more you try to force it, the less likely it's going to happen.

More recently, I have been focusing more on improving my confidence when it comes to my abilities. In my opinion, it is not enough to intend to do something you also have to have the confidence to be able to do it.

I think that is why most people aren't shifting. There are only so many times a person can fail at something and not lose their confidence.

End Notes:

I think that this is all I wanted to say. But, once again, if you want me to explain something, let me know what it is.

#shiftblr #shifting #reality shifting #desired reality #shifters #shifter #shifting antis dni #shifting realities #reality shifter #shifting community

[themirokai]

It is with very mixed emotions that I present to you

Grave

The final story in the Matthew the Emotional Support Raven series.

Matthew visits his own grave and finds himself in need of some emotional support.

Thanks to @quillsorceress for giving this a read and @aquilathefighter and @kulapti for being my go-to bird experts and answering a totally necessary and vital question about raven anatomy.

Inspiration from this picture. If you follow me you've seen a bunch of @raven-photos 's raven photos under my corvid posting tag, but you should follow them too because they post tons of lovely stuff.

You can read the whole story below the cut or over on AO3. The AO3 version includes a mushy authors note about this being the end of the series, which I won't duplicate here, but I may put some additional thoughts in a reblog later.

~~~

Matthew felt the air pressure in the cemetery change. He hung his head with a sigh. 

“Did you need something, Boss?”

“I need only to know that my Raven is well,” Lord Morpheus said from behind him. 

“Yeah, you know me,” Matthew said. “Ball of corvid sunshine.” 

“Matthew.”

“I haven’t even been gone that long,” Matthew groused. 

No response to that. Matthew sighed again and looked around at the gray headstones and dewy grass, sparkling in the morning light. 

“How did you find me? You’re not in my head.” He thought for a moment. “Lucienne ratted me out, didn’t she?” 

“Lucienne informed me that you had asked for your book. She was concerned for your mental state.” 

Matthew huffed. “Do dreams have ‘mental states’?” 

“Yes,” Lord Morpheus said simply. 

Matthew hung his head again and took a deep breath, then reflected that he wasn’t alive and probably didn’t need to breathe. Which was what had brought him to this cemetery in the first place. He gestured to the headstone in front of him with his wing. “Well, there it is. In all its glory. My grave.”

There was, in fact, no glory. It was a completely unremarkable gray headstone with a curved top. His name and the dates of his birth and death were carved on it, nothing else.

“Why have you come here, Matthew?” Lord Morpheus asked quietly. 

“You don’t know? You can’t just read my mind?” 

“Not while we are in the Waking.” 

“Inconvenient,” Matthew muttered. He ground his beak. Matthew knew that none of this was the boss’s fault. He had made perfectly clear when Matthew first met him that he hadn’t been the one to turn Matthew into a Raven. Matthew shook his head. “I died a year ago.” He turned to face Lord Morpheus. The boss was standing ramrod straight, hands shoved into the pockets of a black pea coat. 

“This is not the anniversary of your death, Matthew.”

Matthew flapped his wings. “I know that. I just… started thinking about it. And then I realized that for all the times I’ve come to the Waking, I never saw what my grave looked like.” 

“Now you see it.” 

“Yeah, and I’m dead in there!” He turned to stare at the ground in front of the headstone. “Like my body - my body that I had my whole life - is just down there. Dead and rotting.” He shivered. “It’s not like I ever took particularly good care of it, but it’s still weird! And that’s before you even get to the fact that I’m a fucking bird.” 

“I thought you enjoyed being a Raven.” 

“I do!” Matthew said quickly. “This isn’t about that. It’s just… look, one minute I’m an alive human and the next minute I’m a fucking bird and  Lucienne is telling me to go follow you and then I’m trying to get you to not throw me out on my ear and then we’re dealing with Constantine and then we’re going to Hell and then you’re fighting the asshole who had your ruby and then I’m spying on Rose and then I’m running errands and delivering messages and meeting all sorts of weird people and- and beings and then…” Matthew breathed out in a rush. “I don’t know. I guess I never really stopped to think about the fact that I’m dead. Like really properly dead. With my body rotting in the ground.” 

“Do you feel ‘really properly dead’?”

“No! I don’t feel properly anything! That’s the problem!” 

Lord Morpheus kind of folded himself up so that he was sitting cross-legged on the ground, facing Matthew. “You were not expecting to die? When you were human.” 

Matthew closed his eyes and shook his head. “I wasn’t that old. And I didn’t exactly have the greatest lifestyle… certainly not what would be considered ‘clean living’ by any stretch. I guess that’s why I had a heart attack… but no. I wasn’t sick or anything. I wasn’t expecting to die.” 

Lord Morpheus nodded solemnly. “Most of my past Ravens had been ill or injured or old when they died. Their deaths were much less surprising than yours. And they joined me during… much less chaotic times, when I… shaped the process of them becoming dreams myself.” 

Matthew snorted. “Yeah, I know. I’m the unwanted Raven. You don’t have to remind me.” 

“You mistake me, Matthew.” Lord Morpheus frowned. “Deliberately, I think.” 

“No, I just… you know what I mean.” Matthew looked away from him. 

“As I stated,” Lord Morpheus said a bit huffily, “in the Waking I cannot see your thoughts.” They were both quiet for a moment before Lord Morpheus continued. “My intent in bringing up other Ravens was to comfort you with the notion that the… discomfort you are experiencing is understandable, since your transformation to Raven occurred under less than ideal circumstances.” 

Matthew tipped his head to the side, looking up at him. “How did I become a Raven if you didn’t make me one?” 

A tiny smile on Lord Morpheus’s lips. “Another indication of the frenetic pace of your first year is that we have never talked of this.” He shifted into what Matthew considered to be his ‘storyteller voice’. It was a little deeper, more hypnotic. “I confess that I do not know for sure, though I have my suspicions.” 

Matthew would have liked to stay silent but felt an inexorable pressure to ask, “What suspicions?” Must have been the force of the narrative or something. 

He was rewarded with another tiny smile. 

“It is my suspicion that my sister, Death, selected you… for me.” 

Matthew would have frowned if he had lips. “How were your other Ravens selected?” 

“The souls of those who die in their sleep linger in the Dreaming until my sister collects them and passes them to whatever afterlife awaits them. When the time comes for me to select a new Raven, I select a soul that… feels right, and begin the transformation process.”

“What if the person doesn’t want to be a Raven?” 

It was Lord Morpheus’s turn to frown. “Do you not wish to be a Raven, Matthew?” 

Matthew clicked his tongue. “Now who’s mistaking who?” 

Lord Morpheus inclined his head. “If the person does not wish to be a Raven, then it will not last. They will move on to whatever is next for them and I will select a new Raven.” 

Matthew considered that, but quickly decided that he didn’t want to think too much about whatever was next. “So Death picked me.” 

“Yes, I believe so. It is possible that once I had returned to the Dreaming it… automatically selected a random soul and performed the process without my guidance…” 

Matthew knew there was more to that sentence. “But?” 

Lord Morpheus looked at the headstone. “But. You are too well-chosen to have been a chance selection… and.” 

“And?” 

“Even if the pain of Jessamy’s murder had not convinced me that I did not want another Raven, I think it unlikely that I would have chosen you.” 

Matthew glared at him. “I know that the next thing out of your mouth is going to make that a less shitty thing to hear.” 

Lord Morpheus rolled his eyes. “You are well aware how this story ends, Matthew. I would not have chosen you but sometimes my sister knows me better than I know myself. She collected you when I was preoccupied with the Hecate and saw what I would not have seen: that you… were exactly who I needed as my Raven. And then I suspect that she gave the Dreaming a very strong suggestion to perform your transformation.” 

Matthew had Death to thank for his current gig. Just add that to the pile of things he didn’t know how to feel about. But. There was the rest of what the boss had said. 

Matthew dragged a talon through the grass. “So… you don’t wish you had a different Raven? Someone… I dunno. Dignified or clever or something.” 

Lord Morpheus drew himself up and his eyes blackened from their normal Waking world blue to the night sky. “I am Dream of the Endless. I am older than this universe. I suspect I possess enough dignity for us both.” 

Matthew was not entirely sure that age and dignity were that closely related but kept quiet as Lord Morpheus continued. 

“As far as cleverness… you are perhaps not familiar with great works of poetry or philosophy, but I have never had a Raven who was more skilled at putting others at their ease, or soothing wounded feelings. Anything you lack in courtly manners is more than made up for in kindness and sincerity.” Lord Morpheus sighed and shook his head. “I would not have chosen you, Matthew, but I would have been a fool. You are exactly who I need as my Raven, especially after my imprisonment. My sister saw that, and I am immensely grateful to her.” He held out his hand. Matthew stepped on and was brought into his embrace. “I am sorry that your death was unexpected and jarring for you, Matthew. And I am sorry that the beginning of your tenure as my Raven has been so chaotic. But I cannot bring myself to be sorry that you died when you did, because that timing brought you to me.”

“Oh, Boss,” Matthew sighed.  

“So yes, your human body is moldering in that grave. And yes, you are a ‘fucking bird’. But I very much hope that you will remain a ‘fucking bird’ for a very long time to come.” 

Ravens, Matthew learned, were not capable of crying. He pressed his head against Lord Morpheus’s chest as Lord Morpheus began stroking his feathers. “Yeah. That sounds good.” 

#We all understand that Dream is vastly overestimating his dignity right? #I have so many feelings about ending this series y'all #but it's time #and this is the right story to end on #I really really hope you like it #matthew the emotional support raven #the sandman #the sandman netflix #matthew the raven #dream of the endless #mirokai writes #miro does sandman

[youreirrelevant]

I'd Love To Take You Down And Leave You There

pairing: kendall roy/reader

summary: You feel kind of stupid for asking him to coach you, cause, like. Who doesn’t know how to do this? Still, he sounds pretty while he does, voice deep, enunciating and hitting the consonants in this really satisfying way. And, unbeknownst to you, he’s getting a very sick feeling of glee talking you through it. Heart hammering against his chest, too excited to see what you’ll do.

“Then you just inhale. Quickly.”

words: 9506

tags: EXPLICIT, angst and a little fluff? weird power play stuff, coerced drug use, and therefore dubcon, choking, slapping, hair-pulling, manhandling in general, SUPER unhealthy relationship, emotional manipulation, friends to lovers ig, unprotected sex, drug and alcohol use, suicide and death mentions, degradation, corruption kink?? sadism and masochism and also sadomasochism, spitting in someone's mouth, references to sexual acts like shining a shoe with your tongue, face-fucking, and water breathplay, non-negotiated kink

a/n: idk i watched prague and saw how Kendall could be a manipulative sadist (along with his established masochistic tendencies) and decided to go with it.

35 Hudson Yards. Limestone and glass; eight sleek tiers. Wealth, abundance. An eighth of an ounce. Crazy. Some things slotted into place so easily for Kendall Roy, and others, not so much.

You have to tip your head back to look up at it. So far back your mouth has to fall open.

-------

You’d been to the old apartment, or at least, the old building. Dragged to Greg’s party, though if it was even his to begin with was debatable. He seemed worn out about halfway through, slumped above his guests. You felt deep empathy for him then-all the people and the noise, it was exhausting. And if it had been where you lived, well, you’d probably be a little more than tired. Angry, really. The friend who had brought you there had gone off somewhere, with someone, else, and you felt practically paralyzed by the intensity of it. Flush with one of the pillars between the windows, trying not to look as overwhelmed as you felt. The lively atmosphere had been fun at first, but now you’re alone among a bunch of bodies-people you don’t know, a place far out of your reach.

The edge of your phone hit against your palm in a slow, steady tempo, your other hand swinging it, needing something to fidget with. You could’ve looked at it, scrolled through Twitter or something to pass the time, but you felt the need to watch, see where everyone was and what they were doing. Hypervigilant. Which is how you saw him, headed your way from your left. His eyes looked dark in the low lighting, lingering on some of the faces he passed, some of their bodies. But he kept moving forward, seemingly your way, so, your eyes didn’t leave him.

A woman passed him as he emerged into your little bubble by the windows, and his head swiveled to check her out, too. Your eyes swept over his profile quickly, pouty lips and prominent nose, thick lashes and the gentle slope of the back of his head. Baby hairs neat at the nape of his neck. A little rush of heat ran over your skin, and you bit the very inside of your bottom lip. Your hand had stilled, phone heavy where it lay. Finally, he looked at you, first his head and then his eyes soon after, gave you what seemed to be the required once over as he sipped some drink from a can. Like something you’d see at a frat party, juxtaposed against the high ceilings of the apartment, and the dark sweater he wore that just looked expensive.

“Hey, you, uh, tweaking over here? Take something too strong?”

Words slurred on a deep voice, and he sounded more curious than concerned. Did you look that nervous? There was an urge to try and hide your phone out of embarrassment, still poised as it had been when you had checked him out yourself, but you instead clung on to it tighter. You must’ve taken too long to answer, because he took another sip, eyebrows raised inquisitively.

“Uh, no. I’m just… not big on parties,” as if to illustrate, or to make sure that’s actually where you were, you glanced to the crowd. Your stomach turned at the sight of it, at the knowledge that there was so much space and it was all filled up.

“Uh-huh,” he sounded condescending, dismissive. His eyes scraped down your body, slower this time, and you couldn’t tell if he liked what he saw or was judging you deeply. You tried not to squirm under the scrutiny, only allowing yourself to press the toe of your right shoe into the top of your left. There was just a small gap between his eyelids, the length of those lashes almost touching his cheeks, and you hated how you were annoyed with him but felt a weird, compelling force drawing you toward him. Gravity.

Somehow, over the music and voices, you heard him click his tongue against the roof of his mouth, as if he’d made up his mind. Not that you could tell what his decision was from it.

“So,” he looked back up to you, put his free hand in his pocket, and you saw him sway a bit on his feet, “did you come here with someone?”

You rotated your phone in your grasp, the screen now pressed into your left palm, fingers and thumb wrapped around the edges.

“Yeah, just my friend. She ran off with someone earlier.” To do who knows what.

He stepped closer to you, narrowed his eyes a bit like he was trying to remember, see if he knew you. How he wouldn’t know by then-

“What’s your name?” You felt like you were being interrogated, like you weren’t allowed to be there or something. Brows pinched and rose in the middle, imploringly, lips pursed just a bit. Still, you gave it to him, with what you hoped was a normal and not at all suspicious amount of hesitation.

Dude didn’t even have the decency to give his back.

“Do you have her number- your, uh, friend? Like, could you text her to tell her where you are?”

Okay, you were really confused. She already knew where you were-

“You know, if you wanted to leave? With me?” There was an edge of annoyance, like you should’ve known that’s what he was getting at, where all the questions were headed. And maybe you should’ve? You looked off into the middle distance, frustrated and looking for answers. Pressed your fingertips into the bridge of your nose.

“You’re kind of rude. I’m clearly anxious and you come over here and ask me a million questions, and you don’t even give me your name, and aren’t you drunk?”

His face split in a big, toothy grin, filled with way too much mirth and incredulity. Corners of his eyes crinkled up prettily, and despite your glaring you’re charmed by it.

“I’m Kendall,” he says it like its so fucking obvious. How would you not know? Your eyes flickered around again, as if you were searching your brain for actual clues. He stood there, watching, and you felt stupid.

Wait…

“Oh.” He nods his head exaggeratedly at your realization, eyes closed, eyebrows raised again in a superior way that pissed you off but made your stomach flip. It was surprising. Flattering, in a way, that he’d shown interest in you. It wasn’t supposed to be, as if he deigned you, a mere peasant, worthy of his time. (And he probably knew you were one, too, with that heavy appraisal he had given you earlier. Just from the material of your clothes, the way you held yourself.) You tried to put aside the other reasons that it was flattering-that you found him attractive. And charming. Somehow.

“So?”

“You’re drunk,” you reiterated.

Kendall smiled again, like he knew something he shouldn’t. Then, he sighed, through his nose.

“One more question. It’s the last one. Promise,” you gave him the benefit of the doubt, thinking he meant to cross over his heart, but instead he crossed his fingers. Drunk.

“Sure,” the disbelief in your tone was clear.

“Can I at least get your number?”

Surprised again, written all over your face in the way it slackened, eyes widened. You really thought he’d just move on, (and he would, afterwards, for the night.) Blinking it away-unaware of the way his sluggish mind tried to figure out the length of your lashes as you did it-you moved your phone into your back pocket, and held your hand out for his.

“Yeah, sure,” pressed your lips together to stop from smiling bashfully, your mood turning on a dime from the question.

Kendall handed it over-you wondered if he had more than one, if he carried them both? Or all? With him everywhere, and what he used for his business phone, since this was an iPhone-and you entered your number and name into his contacts. He watched as you did it, noted the way you didn’t give yourself a cute little nickname, or use emojis. It’s your full, government name. He also watched the way you went into the notes section, and stop-started several, embarrassing times, on putting in where you both met. The implication-that he’s so drunk he wouldn’t remember-made you reconsider, but the fact that he actually might not had you eventually doing it.

You gave it back with a nervous smile, and his index finger brushed yours as he took it. It was so, so stupid how you had to stop yourself from reacting, like this was Pride & Prejudice or something.

“Well, I’ll… see you around.”

“Uh, yeah,” hopefully.

When Kendall turned from you, you made the decision to find the friend who dragged you here in the first place.

And he, well. He could feel all that weight settled on his shoulders again, on his chest. Seemed like it could pull him through the floor, through all of them, and down into the molten earth where he belonged. Where he’d burst into a cloud of red steam, the pressure finally released.

Until then, a little thought kept him above, like a bobber on the water, half submerged-

You were really easy.

----

It’s dark out; a little late. A chill in the air, a little more than what one would expect for an April night. You’re trying your damnedest to see the top of this building, where he is. Like you would see him looking down, down the length of his nose, and almost all 92 stories of this thing, to your minuscule-insignificant- form at the bottom. The idea makes you tingle all over.

You run the pad of your thumb over the freshly filed-short edge of your nail, the one on your index finger. It wasn’t for him-your irregular, at-home manicure just happened to have… happened, the day before. He messaged today, a few hours ago. At dusk, the shadows long outside your apartment window. Asking you to come over, very nonchalant. Said he hasn’t seen you in a while, which is true. You didn’t get to see him often before, but after his press conference, you were lucky to get even a text. Not that you expected it, thought that he would- or wanted him- to prioritize you. He had kids and a divorce and this legal battle and his family.

No, definitely didn’t feel that pull in your chest, that need to see whatever he felt you deserved to. Cracking him open, like a door pulled apart by a crowbar. When you relaxed, the shards would almost fall right back into place.

Walking through the lobby, up to a desk, (that you found out was for the hotel in the building,) asking where the elevator for the penthouse was, (there were four,) you feel so out of place. Worried that you’re somehow going to put chips or scratches in the marble floor as you move across it. The elevator itself is spacious and luxurious, which you’re thankful for because it’s a long ride. Polished, mirror finish walls, so you can watch yourself anxiously pick at the sleeve of your jacket. Watch the numbers climb as you did, a sleek digital readout above the doors.

You’d heard he was unraveling. Confident and self-assured before, but now he’s backsliding. It made sense; there were awful, shameful, things being said, that hurt his credibility. Some of them by his own sister. (And you felt so fucking ridiculous, because this stuff would come out and you’d cringe, but you still felt bad for him. Remembered that vacant gaze that threatened to suck your very heart from your chest; a black hole.)

A crisp, modern ‘ding!’ and the doors slide open. You knew it would open right into his apartment, but it was still weird. Like you were intruding. You step into it, look down at the dark wood floors-those are definitely actual wood, not the cheap laminate (duh!)-and decide to take off your shoes. Straight off the elevators is a hallway, to the right. It opens up to a massive… living room? That feels insufficient, but you can’t think of the proper word for it.

Everything is cream, gray-blue, pops of dark wood. It’s not as sterile as other places, but it still doesn’t feel much like a home. The room is divided into four: a couple seating areas, a bar. A dining room, hidden by an obnoxiously large fireplace. You find him in on the L-shaped couch. Hunched over a round, glass-top coffee table from his seat on it. (It was clearly dragged closer, rug bunched up beneath it.) A scene from a movie; a rolled bill, a vehicle to bring the coke from the table into his nose. The hand on the opposite side is plugging that nostril, pushing the outside against his septum with his index finger. Kendall audibly sniffs, his brows furrowing a little bit as he does it.

You’re frozen in place. Mesmerized by it, by the way he sits up straight and looks up to the ceiling, savoring however it's making him feel. Intruding- you shouldn’t be here. You’ve come around after the drugs have been done, when he’s already chatty and touchy, pupils eating pretty hazel eyes. But it's on the table, and he cut the lines himself, and he’s wiping away whatever fell to his philtrum with his knuckle. It feels way too intimate, and you feel like you should leave, but another part of you wants to see more.

Kendall’s dragging the proximal section of his index finger under his nose, all of his fingers curling as his hand tilts back, and he looks at you without an ounce of surprise. If anything, he looks at you like you’re doing exactly what he wanted, standing just at the entrance of some room that was too damn big, holding your shoes in one hand, not sure where to put them. You look sweet, like you always do. Unfamiliar with it all, the skyscrapers and the money and the people.

And, of course, the drugs.

If you had to guess, you’d say there’s fourteen feet between you. He doesn’t stand to greet you, and you don’t move, either.

“Hey. How was the, uh, the ride here?” Perfunctory; he asked that every time you met him somewhere, every time he sent a car for you. Sometimes he seemed to care more than others. The words jumped off his tongue, rushed, for him. But it felt more like he was just trying to get it out of the way.

You bring your shoes over to rest in front of your thighs, laying them lengthwise, slipping as many fingers of your right hand into the collars as will fit beside your left. You try not to spend too long studying him, try not to find weird patterns in it all. He’s wearing all black, a thick sweater with the sleeves pulled halfway up his forearms, (lean and spotted with the occasional mole or freckle,) slacks that pull taut over his thighs, and hang perfectly creased from his knees. Dressed dark, like when you first met. Big hands hang loosely between his parted legs, and you make it a point to not linger there, eyes darting back up to his.

“Yeah, it was… okay. Y’know. Pretty normal.”

He’s looking up at you from where he’s still perched on the edge of the couch, the only real giveaway that he’d just done something being the way he taps his finger against the back of the opposite hand. Incessant, maybe a little faster than he meant to. That- as you thought of it, privately, stupid, not at all attractive- pinky ring he wears sometimes feels heavy and cool on his skin.

“So, did I, like, come here too early, or…?”

There’s that smile again, a mischievous little v. A secret.

“No, you, uh, got here right on time, actually.”

Kendall always said some shit that sent you reeling. Something weird. He either thought very hard about what he was going to say, or not at all. You scratch the skin just behind your right ear, leaning your head into it, eyes narrowed as you think.

“O-kay?”

He moves to cut the cocaine into smaller, shorter lines, and you watch, mouth falling open, arm relaxing to allow your hand to curl into a loose fist in front of your throat. The cogs were turning, and you didn’t like how the teeth were fitting together.

“I want you to try this.”

A little tug, not even a full rotation on the handle of the fishing reel.

“The coke?”

Stops dead in his tracks, the heavy, metal card coming to a halt midway through dividing the aforementioned drug. He looks at you like you’re fucking stupid, a nasty habit of his, and you scoff, looking at him like he’s fucking insane.

“Kendall-“ you never call him Ken, not even when you’re being soft with him. You’d never admit to it, but it was deferential. And he’d never admit to it, but it hurt.

“What? I know you want to,” he’s being playful about it, singing the words, like he’s asking you to do something benign, like fucking- Skinny dipping. Smoking weed. Drinking some liquor out of a parents’ cabinet. You try to ignore the almost tactile, magnetic feeling, bringing you toward him. Toward what he’s asking of you. Toward what you sadly want.

“No, you don’t know, actually.”

He rotates slightly to face you better. His eyes are hard. Knowing.

“Yes, I do. Come on. Fucking, get over here and snort this. I wanna see how big your pupils get.”

What?

Butterflies, heat seeping downward, you tuck your bottom lip beneath your teeth. Skimming just beneath the water's surface; trembling with the effort to stay submerged. To say no.

“They’re small lines. It’ll be fine. I promise.”

He promises. You guessed he would know, how much was too much, when to stop. He could be a dick, but he’d never let you get hurt. (Right?) Rationalizing it; just once would be fine. Lots of people did it casually. It might be fun. It could be a bonding experience. You might understand him more. It might impress him. You’re gripping your shoes so tight that the fabric squeaks. Looking everywhere but him, brows furrowed in thought, knowing that the only thing that would sway you is the way he looks.

Fuck. It's painful. It literally hurts. The curiosity is pulling at your chest. Despite yourself, you look to him, like he could give you the answer, (though it really wasn’t a question.) You see the way he’s still watching you, his breathing a little heavy from the way his heart is surely racing, chest rising and falling, pressing against the confines of his shirt just enough to be seen.

It all crumbles. Your resolve, your posture, literally slumping in defeat.

“Fine.”

You move to close the distance, and it feels so much wider than it looked. Kendall looks downright victorious, eyes glittering with pride and excitement. Sitting next to him, placing your shoes on the floor and flexing your hand from its tense hold, and trying not to touch his knee with yours. As if all your thoughts would transfer through diffusion, and he’d jump away. Really know.

Nervously, you wipe your hands on your thighs, attempting to still the shaking. The proximity lets you smell him; a spicy, woodsy cologne, the crispness of his soap, the sweetness of cigarette smoke. Familiar, and sorely missed.

“So, uh-“ a breathless, stunted laugh, “how do I-“

Long fingers reach out to pick up the rolled bill-you see the familiar orange and blue of the 100- holding it delicately as he hands it to you. Looking to him with an anxious little smile, and he gives you a patronizing one back. It’s almost soothing.

“You just hold one end up to your nose,” you lean forward over the table, thick clear glass, that reflects the image of the powder back at you. “Its easier if you plug the other nostril,” he supplies, and you feel kind of stupid for asking him to coach you, cause, like. Who doesn’t know how to do this? Still, he sounds pretty while he does, voice deep, enunciating and hitting the consonants in this really satisfying way. And, unbeknownst to you, he’s getting a very sick feeling of glee talking you through it. Heart hammering against his chest, too excited to see what you’ll do.

“Then you just inhale. Quickly.”

Nodding, trying to look confident, but your hearts going so fast you wonder if any amount would kill you. You bring the hundred up to your right nostril, plug the left, line up- then pull away, sitting up straight. Roll your shoulders back, take a deep breath to steady yourself.

“Okay. Yeah, okay.”

Like jumping straight into the pool to get the shock of the cold over with, you do it. Fast. And then recoil, face scrunching up at the sting, a floral scent leaking through the pain. Kendall claps you on the back, like you’re bros or something, says something to the effect of ‘atta girl,’ but you’re just trying to right yourself. Wondering why your heart is still racing, when you did the thing that scared you.

Duh. Fucking, duh. That’s how it's supposed to feel, dumbass.

In a way similar to what he did earlier, you look at the ceiling, eyes fluttering as they make their way. Not out of appreciation, though. Just trying to feel it. His hand rubs over your upper back in wide swipes, and the touch is searing. You definitely got what you wanted, ‘cause he is impressed. Beaming, eyes all over you, taking in the way you shake, the quickening of your breathing, the way you wet your lips and swallow hard.

Up in the air, dangling on his hook.

You practically toss the money onto the coffee table, needing to get your jacket off. Now. Fastened with big metal buttons that feel like ice against your fingertips. He watches you fumble with them, and without a thought reaches out to help, scoffing, like you fucking asked. Like he doesn’t know the way it cuts through the drugs to almost stop your heart. Your hands just sort of hang in the air as he does it, as you watch him, fingers nimble as they break each button’s hold. Nauseous, self-conscious at your ragged breathing when he makes quick work of the fastenings over your chest, holding your breath so you might not push into him.

“You don’t have to- you don’t have to fucking-“

But you don’t move to stop him, and he grabs the fabric under your bust, bunching it up to lift the hem away from your hips so his hands don’t have to be in the junction of your thighs to undo the last one.

Oh. Okay.

Mercifully, he doesn’t push it off your shoulders, too. You do it yourself, feeling infantilized, letting it pool on the cushion behind you. You realize you still have a sweater on beneath it, an itchy wool mix, and you feel a little flash of anger. Short nails scratch deep through the material on your arm, and you turn a bit to face him better.

“Well? How does it feel?”

It's like everything bubbles to the surface when you see his face up close, the lights catching his eyes in this perfect way that makes the golden brown and flecks of green shine in a thin line around his pupils. Unabashed, your own pupils like saucers, letting in more light, more him. Sweeping over the straight line of his nose, the five o’clock shadow, and where it's darker above his upper lip. Pink lips, (pinker than normal, surely flushed from the drugs,) that look absurdly soft and plush, that you’ve seen stick together just a bit when he goes to speak.

“Uh, it, uh, it feels-“

Those very lips pull upward smugly, and your eyes flit to his, caught. But he doesn’t seem phased, just makes sure you’re still watching, turns his head, and wets the tip of his finger before dipping it in one of the lines, making a little crater in the soft powder. You squeeze your wrist tightly, and try not to think of the way his tongue glistened, how soft it’d feel. Or how firm it could.

Fingers then curl around your chin, pulling down softly, and you hesitate, but offer little resistance as he tugs a little harder, tells you to open your mouth, his voice low and raspy.

His finger slips under your upper lip, the delicate skin catching on it, lifting to reveal your teeth, and presses against the hard ridge of your gums. Warm and slimy beneath the broad, squared pad of his fingertip. Kendall rubs the coke in, tingly numbness left in his wake. You’re looking at each other so intently, his eyes half-lidded as he watches what he’s doing, thick lashes creating a dark band. You lean into his touch, eager for more, for something else, fingers inside other places, wetter and more forgiving.

The air is humid between you as he pulls his finger from your mouth, and you can’t help but look down at it, see the shine of spit. Literally biting your tongue, to stop yourself from asking him to force as many digits into you as he can. He takes in your pensive face, wonders what you’re keeping from him. He has ideas, obviously. Suggestions, even.

"Do you want more?”

Didn’t you just have more? You chew on your lip, take stock of how you feel. There’s a bitter taste in your mouth; you can barely feel your teeth where they dig into soft skin. Everything else is still very much there, the heat and thrum of your heart all over. The anxiety. This itchy need.

And want. Greediness, for him, and more. Just to see. Seeking knowledge.

“Is that… safe?”

One of Kendall’s broad hands rests on your arm, a firm and reassuring press. You look up at him with big, glossy eyes, and he feels his own need that he needs to scratch. The other side of the coin from yours.

“If you do just a, fucking, little bit, then, yeah.”

He drops his hand so he can turn away, towards the coffee table, and you miss his touch and full attention so much you could cry. The credit card clacks against the polished surface, and you lock your fingers to stop from touching him. You wished you had no inhibitions. You wished you could cross the threshold that he had, touch him in ways friends shouldn’t. That’s what this was supposed to be, getting over whatever childish bullshit kept you from honesty. Get it out, get it over with. Maybe the drugs will smooth it over, mixed with water into a paste to fill the cracks.

Kendall cuts bigger lines, and smaller. Thinks of the weight of that, what it means. What he was doing to you. What you were letting him do. A touch, a look, a change in tone. He’d sat at the water's edge, hook beneath the surface. A novice; everyone else’s coolers were full. Plenty of fish to be eaten, but he was about to starve. Weeks since a catch. The sun was low on the horizon, glittering red and orange against the water between the shadows of the trees.

A fish on the end of his line, hungry for the bait. A fight so weak the pole barely bows. Then, he has you, the tiniest, saddest, most-insignificant little thing he’d ever seen.

Gasping and wriggling in his palm. He has all the power, to let you have the water. To eat you.

Learned behaviors.

He inhales a long line for himself, thinking too damn much. Burns throughout his nose and sinuses, but he doesn’t do much to show it, just scrunches his nose, licks along his upper incisors. He feels hot and reckless again, heart racing against his breastbone to propel him forward, into action. Pushes his sleeves back up around his elbows, and you watch, see the way his fingers grip the fabric, the way muscles tense under tanned skin. He unrolls the hundred deftly, folds it over lengthwise to try and stop it rolling back in on itself. Then, he scoops some of the cocaine up in the valley created by the crease. Turns to you again, and you bring your knee up on the couch to face him better. With his left hand he makes a loose fist, thumb resting on top of his index finger, creating a nice flat surface to sprinkle some of the drug onto.

“Here.”

You’re looking at him with those fucking eyes again. He’s almost overcome with jealousy; the boldness of it.

“Um, off your-“

“Uh-huh,” drawn out, a little impatient, wondering why you were acting weird when his finger had just been in your mouth.

No big deal. Totally normal. What was snorting some coke off each other’s hands between friends? You lean down a little, maintaining eye contact to see if he’s joking. Kendall raises his hand a bit to make it easier, thinks thoughts that are only natural when you’re high, and him. The upper ridge of your cupid's bow touches the back of his hand, first, and you jump back, readjusting the angle. He wonders if you’ll reach out and grab his arm, maneuver it down so you can be above a little more, but instead you just sit a little straighter, and he knows then that you aren’t high enough to be fucking honest with him. (Maybe after this you would be.) The hard tip of your nose presses into that delicate skin, right next to where the webbing between his thumb and index finger begins. Like last time, you do it fast; your lips brush his wrist, you don’t get it all.

It hurts worse this time. It's all worse. Your ears ring, your heart beats so fast you wondered if there was any equation in the world that could calculate just how fast. Your hand reaches out to grasp his upper arm, holding on tight in an attempt to bring you back to earth. Eyes squeezed shut, feeling like you can’t breathe for a second before the heavy, panting breaths come. When you’re finally convinced you won’t die, you open your eyes and look at him again. Take him in as a whole, from widow’s peak to slightly dimpled chin. Freckles, shine on his face. Nothing in the way; the wall is gone.

You kiss him so hard your noses crush. It hurts, and you pull away with a huff of laughter before going back in. Hand cradling his jaw, index finger resting over his ear. Rain after a long and humid day; it felt like a release. Relieving to do it, and to know that he wants it, too. Kissing you back just as feverishly, hand sliding along the side of your neck to slip his fingers into the hair at the base of your skull. Gripping tight, pulling your lips from his just long enough for you to gasp in excitement, repositioning you so that he has control. Little puffs of air from your nose against his cheek, while he slips his tongue into your mouth.

Every sensation is intensified, brand new. Sends a fresh bolt of anticipation through you. The taste of his mouth and breath, pulling back just to feel each other’s lips again. Wanting to savor it but wanting to go forward and see more. His nose is tucked into your cheek; he can smell your skin, feel the warmth of your flush. It's messy and sloppy but it feels a little sweet to him, because it's you. An air of tenderness, a care that he did not deserve.

Kendall pulls you by your hair to lay you back on the couch cushions, torso following yours, lips still pressed together, perfect pressure. Legs are pulled up to be level with bodies. One of his thighs slips between yours, and the barest amount of friction makes you sigh. You’re so wet, the muscle of his leg pushes sticky cool fabric against your cunt. You don’t miss how hard he is against your hip, and the further confirmation of reciprocation makes you feel weak, makes your heart flutter even more. Somehow.

It feels too cute. Too virginal- innocent. Like the heavy breathing and hurried pulses are from nerves, from inexperience. You feel empty. You want everything he can possibly give you. You want him to take his shirt off so you can see the chest that will sometimes strain against buttons on crisp white dress shirts; you want him to keep it on so it feels even more hurried. You want him to touch your clit, with his fingers or his tongue or his fucking nose. You want him to slap you, your face, your pussy. You want him to say something so fucking mean it makes you cry.

He slips a hand under your sweater, presses against the soft skin of your stomach just enough for it to dimple. It's hot; he can feel your pulse against his palm, rapid and hard. The little gap created by his wrist lets cool air in, and it feels so fucking good. You arch your back just enough to push against his hand, pulling your hand away so you can grab his. Kendall’s eyebrows raise in surprise as your fingers dig into his wrist, as you use the grip to rotate his hand and push his fingertips below the waist of your jeans.

And he doesn’t move. Let’s it rest, pulls his head back so he can look down at you with a restrained smile. That was audacious, honest, real.

“Kendall, fucking-“

He applies pressure to that sensitive portion of lower stomach, letting his closed-mouth grin spread across his face. Playful; Duchenne. Boyish.

“Come on. Please?”

Using both hands to unbutton, unzip, just to be faster. Because, despite the teasing, he really did want you wrapped around him. Wondered just how wet you’d be, how tight you’d be, how soft. Once his hand is beneath the soft fabric (not expensive or lacy or mesh; he’s kind of shocked at the idea that you didn’t wear anything special on the off chance something might happen,) he doesn’t mess around. Sinks his middle finger between your lips to press against your clit.

There isn’t much room, between his thigh and the jeans, so you scoot away a bit, part your legs to make some. His hand follows, uses the spread to press his index and ring fingers into your vulva on either side of his middle finger. Swirls them; they glide so easily you feel a little pang of embarrassment. It’s already so much, senses heightened. Feels like he’d been doing it for a while, halfway there. He presses harder, and you let out a startled little moan.

Then, he’s slipping lower. His inclination is to tease, to dip his fingertip in and see how you react. But he sees the way you’re getting so excited at just the prospect, lip bitten white, eyes looking down to see whatever you can of his hand in your pants, willing him to do it. So, he does. Two fingers, all at once, until his knuckles are flush with your skin. You make a shocked sound, like a scoff, wiggling your hips at the stretch. He seeks out, and finds too fast, that rough spot inside you. Curls his fingers and presses deep against it, so precise that your knees wobble, you groan.

He starts to fuck you with them, slow but rough. Exacting. Your head tips back; it’s perfect. You wanted this so bad, for so long. Thought about it all the time. Stared at his hands and studied the width of his fingers and tried to imagine just how much it’d ache.

“I still can’t believe you actually fucking did that.”

Dragging your eyes up to his, trying not to think of the fact that the oft-mentioned coil is already beginning to tighten.

Right. The coke.

Another breathless chuckle. Anxiety surges in your chest. He sees it- quickens his pace to make your eyes flutter.

“Um, well-“

“But you would do anything I told you to.”

It was like you were trying to hide behind a piece of straw. Of fucking course he could see you, see through you. He pressed a little and you gave. He pulled, and you followed, on a leash. Anything, he could say anything and you’d do it. Let him fuck your face. Polish his shoes with your tongue. See how long you could hold your breath underwater, (because he’s holding you there.) If he gave an ounce of affection in return, that’s all you would need. This, well this was almost too generous.

Slower now, more sensual, long drags against your g-spot that made you whimper. You kinda hope his sleeve will fall down his arm, and rub your pubic mound raw.

“Is it too much?” It’s not sweet by any means. Either way, he plans on giving more.

“N-no. It’s-“ He doesn’t even let you finish, just starts fingering you almost viciously, digits hooking over and over to pull and pull it out of you. Kendall couldn’t remember the last time he wanted to make someone cum this much. He thought that, maybe, if he gave you something, if he gave you a few things, it’d make up for all the taking.

“God.”

You’re so close- he can tell. Your hips jump up to try and meet his fingers, and he has to pin them down so he can be more precise. It practically makes you melt- the manhandling. Every ounce of heat, all the buzzing, itching want, pooled in one spot, ready to pop. Quick bursts of moans, every exhale, thighs shaking and hands grasping. At his shoulder, feeling the flex of his trapezius as he holds you down.

You get so tense you forget the need for air, big pauses between these tiny breaths.

“Breathe,” honey? Baby? Girl? Just a little something, to bridge the gap.

He sounds strained, like he’s fighting against you. It tightens more, impossibly. Then finally, finally, clamps down and holds, and as it lets go-

“Fuck!”

Slides into pulsing, almost gripping so tight he can’t move his fingers. Frantic breaths, patchy moans. Kendall feels you soften further around his digits, thinks about how perfect you’d feel around his cock. And Christ, do you want it. You hadn’t even fully come down from your orgasm before you were thinking of the next, of cumming around something more substantial. It’d be so easy, too- always so quick to after the first one, and even quicker after the next. A dam breaking. Raining harder.

His fingers slip from you, watery strings of wetness between them. And before you can tell him not to, tell him to wipe it on you so it could be dirty and messy and dry down flaky on your skin, he’s sucking it off them. Inhaling deeply. Groaning a little. Really enjoying it. It makes your mouth water; it makes you want to reciprocate. Some other time, hopefully.

You sit up a bit, reach forward and grab the waistband of his slacks, pulling him forward. They feel crisp and starched (do they starch them?) He almost wants to stop you. Is this too far? Is this unfair? You were both high, but there was a clear imbalance here. And he was afraid, that if they kept going, he might lean into it. He’s sat up on his knees above you, and you straighten further, slipping your fingers deeper into his pants to get a better grip on them, nails smooth and scorching against his skin. They slide to meet in the center, grab the flaps of the fly, and you look up at him through your lashes. Eyes dark. Demanding.

“Fuck me?”

Looking down his nose, a strange mix of emotions. You’re too good for him; he shouldn’t even be bothering with you. He knows what you want, and he always has. Pushing each other, but he does a little harder and you fall back. Scramble to be at his feet, and stay there. It feels good to do it. To see a flash of hurt across your face, and the knowledge that your blood runs hot from it is incidental.

He grabs your face, pinky ring digging into the ridge of your jaw, unforgiving. His index finger and thumb press deep into your cheeks; he can feel the upward sweep of your cheekbones. His palm squishes your lips back against your teeth. Your eyelids droop a bit, savoring the pressure. Slowly, you work the button through the hole, testing him.

Kendall slaps you. Really fucking hard. No build-up to it or anything. It’s loud, the metal on his finger feels like it burst blood vessels. He kept his fingers spread a bit, messily, for extra coverage. A thick thumb hits your nose so hard your septum aches. He follows through, too, doesn’t let his hand bounce back once it makes contact. It's a miracle you don't moan.

Just as you’re about turn your head to face him again, working your jaw, his fingers are digging into your cheeks again, so much rougher than last time. Pushing your head back, eliciting a pained noise from you.

“Lay back, if you want me so fucking bad.”

He shoves so hard your neck hurts from the force. You blink up at him, but do as he says, hands pulling away and moving to the place where the cushions meet, tucking your fingers in nervously.

“No,” grabbing a wrist roughly, jerking upward. Awash with shame, hurting for the pride you inspired in him earlier.

“Take your pants off.”

Nodding hurriedly, hands shaking and unstable like they were before. But this time he doesn’t help, backs off the couch so he can do the same. He can feel your eyes all over him; you wanted to do it, but he looks pretty doing it himself. Trying to take it all in, in case this was it. A drug-fueled fuck. You’re distracted, going slow, and he glances your way reproachfully, from where his head is tucked down to watch himself. So, you rush, finally getting the zipper down, hooking your thumbs beneath everything, jeans and underwear. Pushing it down your thighs, watching as he does the same, takes himself into his hand.

You could die. You could burst into flames right then and would be no hotter. Surface of the sun; lightning, even. Paradoxically, you’re frozen, fabric around your knees. Your mouth hung open slightly as he strokes himself a couple times. Remembering the shitty estimates of the size of his hands, and trying to figure out how big he is. Not huge; he didn’t look impossible. But it’d be tight.

The utter lack you felt, (inside, physically,) had you returning to the task at hand, even more eager. Pushing your clothes off your feet, tossing them maybe a little dramatically. Kendall is stepping out of his own to move toward you, and he does hear where the fabric hits the floor a little too far away. And it softens him a little, endears you to him, hurts his heart knowing that you want him that bad. (He, also, feels a little cocky about it.)

Part of him wants to take his time, get a good look at you. Use his fingers to spread you, see parts of you he knows you never thought he would. It was only a matter of time. Galaxies on a collision course; irrevocable changes. Parts of you sent careening into outer space. Was there anyone in the andromeda galaxy to know it would happen? He barely even has to nudge your legs apart, hand just sort of resting atop your thigh as you do it yourself.

He leans over you, and yeah, it’s on a couch, and there are stimulants coursing through both of your veins, but it’s missionary. It’s too intimate, you’re looking up at him with so much want and affection, as if you can’t see what’s wrong with him. That he’s an addict, a fuck-up. That he hurts everyone around him. That he killed someone. He was so sure, that anyone could look into his eyes and read his thoughts and know.

Things keep moving, despite it. He reaches down with a hand to line himself up. He can’t see, but his head just happens to press against your clit in a way that makes you jump. You feel like you’re too excited, and it was probably a mixture of the coke and months of nursing a pathetic crush on him. So hurt by his cruelty, but so enamored with his praise.

Finally, he’s pressing into you, and the stretch makes you whimper, makes your legs part further, hands moving to clutch at his sides. (And your hands are met with fabric, again, and you feel that same anger go through you, slipping away just as fast as it had come on.) His hand rests at the juncture of your hip and thigh, gripping tight, trying to steady himself because it’s always a lot when you’re high like this.

Hips meet, and your head falls back at the feeling, letting out a groan of relief. His lower stomach presses against your clit in a way that makes your skin buzz. You can feel him in your chest; it almost makes you anxious. It’s so much. You open your eyes up to look at him, and his lips are flattened together slightly, he’s almost glaring at you. It feels like your heart is inflating in your chest. He sees you capitulating and it pisses him off.

His hand presses against your sternum to push you further into the couch. Uses his other hand to tilt your hips up, gets up on his knees to rest your ass against the tops of his thighs. No preamble, no easing into it. A rough, unrelenting pace, that has you wincing and gasping in surprise.

The noises you make are almost shameful. Choked sounds of impact, moaning like you’ve been deprived of it for years. You’ll keep realizing what you’re doing, and biting your lip to stifle some of them. You look up to him and see the way his face is pinched in concentration, his eyes watching where your hips meet, the way his mouth will fall open and his brows will wobble like he’s restraining himself, and you feel the need to, too. Clapping your hand over your mouth, hurried breaths making noise over your fingers. And it kind of does it for you. Makes it feel wrong. (As if it wasn’t already.)

Kendall glances up to see you doing it, and he gets a fistful of hair at the scalp, pulls so hard you yelp.

“You were so fucking desperate, and now you’re, what? Embarrassed?”

Your hand is gripping the back of the couch. You want to touch him to appease him, but feel like you aren’t allowed.

“No, I-“ You really are trying to sound serious, but it just sounds breathless and needy.

“Not getting what you want? Am I not being mean enough for you?”

God. You really were transparent. Glass, with all your thoughts printed out in neat script and pressed between the panes. Him knowing hurt; him indulging it made you want him forever.

“N-no.”

He’s stunned, honestly. That you would want more. Less, so, that he did too. Wanted to see how far until you’d break. If you even would. What all you would give to him. His hand slides up your chest, wraps around your throat, and you sigh like it’s perfect. Your knees shake and you clench around him. He makes his own muffled sound, lets out a huff of air, and it makes you ache for him.

“Why do you want me so bad, huh? Is it the money? Need someone powerful to put you in your place?”

So heavy. A whirlwind of emotions; you want to kiss him, you want to tell him he’s so pretty and perceptive and smart, but he’s wrong. That he’s everything. You don’t want him to stop.

“Kendall-“

“You’d let me do anything,” like you needed reminded, “let me drag you down, let me ruin your life. Because you’re so fucking needy.”

Jesus. You wanted to look away; he was right, being proven so every second. Because you were right there, shaking and electric and scorched. It was wrong. He needed you, and you were being selfish. Taking.

“Please?”

Jam-packed with so much emotion it filled him, made him sick with it. Needing him to be nicer to himself, but meaner to you. Like that made any fucking sense. He needs you to cum, to see, to give it to you. The world served up on a platter, if he could get it off his fucking back.

Your lips are already parted, so it’s easy enough for him to slip his fingers inside, press your tongue down. It’s the hand that was in you earlier, and there’s still a lingering taste of yourself, of his spit, the salt of his skin. You do reach out to touch him, then, hand slipping underneath the hem of his sweater. Fingers resting in the groove of his spine. His skin is so soft, hot. Maybe you’re asking too much. Maybe you’re hurting him. He had rubbed your back earlier, in this casual way, like it was nothing. He probably didn’t have some stupid epiphany, then, like you were now. Didn’t feel the life thrumming in your body, and realize that you were just a person.

He spits in your mouth, so disdainfully, and it’s almost tragic how fast you come apart. Clenching over him, so tight he can’t help but groan, (which makes it more intense, makes it all so much worse,) fingers digging into his back, crying out with each wave. Feeling the electricity spark along your nerves.

And as it goes, it feels like something’s pulling behind your ribs. Tugging on your heart, or poking at a bubble, trying to puncture it. Behind your closed eyelids, your eyes sting. Your throat feels tight. He pulls his fingers from your mouth just as it pops, too much. Every sense too alive, brain too wired, emotions too high. Tears slip over your cheeks, your lip wobbles as you let out this pathetic noise, mouth now closed to try and muffle it.

Kendall sees it. There’s no mistaking the way your face falls. He rests his hand on your cheek, goes to stop, and you huff wetly.

“Don’t.”

It was petulant. Okay? He complies, regains a steady, (but slower,) pace.

You slump into the couch. Liquefying, pooling into the creases of the fabric, slipping between the cushions, dripping onto the floor. Still so sensitive, crying out like you’re right there again, but softer, milder. He’s not sure what to think. He finds you so pretty like this it’s unbearable. The beginnings of a bruise along your jaw, from his ring. Lashes stuck together and glossy. Skin flushed. Pink and wet. So pliant. Completely vulnerable.

And honest. Giving him everything.

“I love you,” painfully heartfelt.

Water over him. God. He didn’t deserve it. He should have to die of thirst. Of hunger. In the desert, vultures circling overhead. Should’ve never been able to sit down by the water and wait.

Your hands are on him, cradling his face, pulling him down to kiss you. It should be slow, it should be tender and gentle. But he won’t let it be. Like you were, earlier. Forceful, desperate. As if, if he pulled away, took a breath, you’d rescind. You’d take it all back. Selfish. If you were going to give it to him, he wanted it all.

Now he’s losing his composure. Brow crumpled, moaning behind his lips. Slipping his hand beneath that stupid shitty cheap sweater to work its way under your (stupid, shitty, cheap,) bra, to feel your pebbled nipple, to see how soft the skin of your breast was. You jolt and arch into the touch, and he bites your lip. He’s getting close; he kind of wants you to cum again. It’d probably be easy, it doesn’t seem like you ever went back down to the base of the hill. Moves his hand down to find your clit so swollen, and you jump at that, too, trying to clutch at the short hair on the back of his head. You cried from the last one and he’s still giving you more.

Kendall’s right. It doesn’t take much, he could probably (probably,) count on both hands how many times he circled his fingers before you were falling again. So sweet, fingers slipping down the back of his neck, molding to him, yielding. You look up to him with so much heat in your eyes it burns. It could go on forever.

It can’t, really. It really is a lot. He looks down where his hips press to yours again. Sees himself disappear; sees you take him. A hand finds your waist, trying to steady himself. You still want him so badly. It’s like each time you see him is the first. He’s shaking; you’re flattered. Grinning like an idiot, and hoping he doesn’t notice. Watching the way his chest heaves, the way his bottom lip hangs to reveal his teeth. Eyes closed, hips going slower like he really wants it to last. You can’t help but tighten around him at the sight, and he gasps, spits out a startled ‘fuck,’ before he’s pulling you down over him, fucking you so harshly you’re stunned.

“Jesus,” it comes out of you so shakily, you almost laugh.

Clutching the armrest behind you, riding it out. Eyes glued to him cause you just have to see. His scrape over you, taking in every inch of you, too, the way you’re still breathing heavily. Can hear over the pounding of his heart in his ears, the way you’re still making eager, hurried sounds. Your eyes meet and his immediately fall closed. Finished. The heel of his hand presses into your lower ribs. Black sleeves have fallen down his arms, and you miss the sight of all his scattered moles. Slow again, moaning softly, and you’re practically giddy that he’s doing it. His hips stutter, press against yours in ways that make you see stars. And then, he stops.

“God. Fuck.” Weak, low, broken. He feels light-headed, all the air from his lungs.

It’s bittersweet. He lays his head on your chest and almost forgets. What he’s done, what he did to you. Drugs, dragging people down. Metaphorically. Literally. He doesn’t say a word, lies there motionless. Listens to your heartbeat, slower than it was before. Studies the fibers in the couch. He can’t say it back. He wants to so badly and he can’t.

You can feel it. The mood shift. It’s a mix for you, too. You know that what Kendall did was wrong. But, you feel fulfilled. (Encompassed; eaten.) You kind of don’t regret it. Know you should, at least the cocaine, but you don’t. It was fun. You did bond with him. Understanding him, though? Another good yank, almost making a hole in the door. (In a house, engulfed in flames; you’re trying to get a door open to go deeper.)

“That was, uh. That was a lot,” it’s a little playful, but he doesn’t laugh.

“Uh-huh.”

Muffled. You can hear how his cheek is pressed against your clothes. It hurts and warms your heart all at once.

“I think the coke was too much.”

“Mhmm.”

It’s not dismissive. Just distant. He almost sounds sleepy, if you didn’t know any better. You run your fingers through his hair, and he can hear the way your heart races a little at it. He huffs through his nose, the corners of his lips turn up a bit, just enough for him to feel.

You press your lips to the top of his head, not kissing, just resting there. Breathe deeply, smell the powdery, masculine scent of his hair product.

“I’m not naïve, you know.”

He tenses, not sure what you’re getting at.

“You don’t have to tell me everything, but I do want to help you.”

Murmured into his hair- he feels your breath against his scalp. He wants to melt. Downward, swallowed into the earth, every part of him recycled.

“I don’t think you can.”

Beneath them was an art structure, 150 feet tall, closed from the public because too many people jumped off of it. Sometimes, Kendall would stand in the elevator, on the way up to his penthouse, and think that someone should close that off, too.

#kendall roy #kendall roy x reader #kendall roy/reader #succession hbo #succession #reader insert #took me like four months to post this on here for some reason dfhakjdhka

[sparkle-d]

waiting game | daniel ricciardo

pairing: daniel ricciardo x you

summary: in which you switch your phone with daniel's without knowing

tags: falling in love; chatting and messages; kind of enemies to friends to lovers

warnings: insecure reader; f!reader; dumb people

chapter: 8/?

(you: blue/ daniel: orange)

✧.* tag list: @bloodyvalentine93 @organasith @verstappens-hat @idkiwantchocolatee @landhoe @theplobnrgone @iamasimpingh0e @chiliwhore @buendiabebeta @icecoldtiress @holy-macncheese-balls @caosfanblr @cxliforniadream @calmleclerc @hannahholland1811 @dr3lover @charlewiss @moneymasnn @mk15x @oneoftwoghosts @inchidentwithmax @t-nd-rfoot @loverboysainz

You try to stay focused, to make your mind at ease, but you always come back to the same sentence.

“We should go to my apartment later”.

There’s no big of a deal with it, actually you want your shoes back because you use them very often. But you imagine being in a private space, only you and Daniel, no best friends or other drivers or staff in between. Just you two, and it makes you nervous.

Daniel takes the spoon out of your mouth, staring at you “Is everything okay? You’ve been with this spoon in your mouth for minutes, do you feel anxious again? Or need something?”

He looks concerned for a minute and at the same time that it makes your heart melt for him to considerably care about your being, it also makes a sting ache in your chest. Daniel saw you at your worst, during a crisis, and now you’re again with a bunch of people around you and acting somewhat weird. He’s worried something will happen again. 

Does everyone around you feel the same as Daniel? Have the same expression on their faces when you start acting differently?

You wish you could change things. You could change yourself.

“Everything’s fine.” It’s not a lie, but it’s not the truth either. You can’t tell him that what makes you nervous right now it’s him “I was just spacing out, no need to worry.”

“Well, if you feel something different, tell me like you did that night and I will think of something.” It makes you feel odd, you don’t like the way Daniel is acting, even if he’s just being really nice and… caring?

“Will you take me to a swimming pool again?” You almost show a full smile to him, but he does it for you. Daniel smiles big, giving your spoon back to eat your gelato.

“It worked last time.” 

You can feel your cheeks getting warmer as he continues to stare at you. He doesn’t make you uncomfortable anymore, it’s been a while since the last time he made you not want his presence, but there’s something happening inside of you. It’s something different, that makes your whole body react to it. 

“Last time I was drunk, anything would’ve worked, honestly.”

Daniel tilts his head while staring at you, with curious eyes. You wonder if he understood wrongly what you were trying to say. You didn’t mean that just because you were drunk you became more intimate with him. It sure helped you loosen up a bit, but that wasn’t what you meant, it would imply that you thought he was taking advantage of you. You are always bickering with him, saying something like this wouldn’t surprise him, honestly. 

“Today you are totally sober, let’s see if I can make you enjoy my company again.” You are enjoying his company, it soothes your heated body, your emotions that sometimes take control of your body “And maybe you can call me your friend by the end of the night.”

The words echoes your mind, he wants to be friends with you? Have Pierre or Charles said something to him? Or is this his legit interest in being close to you? You can’t tell the difference, because you’re the worst at reading people. But you hope this comes from Daniel himself, that he wants to know you more, because you feel the same.

You continue eat your gelato, it’s cold and sweet, like this night.

“By the way, I’m sorry for last time, I just…” You try to continue, but Daniel is already denying with his head.

“No need to be sorry, I crossed some lines that night and I shouldn’t have, so I should be the one to apologize.” He shrugs, opening his smile back at you “You can think I’m a complete asshole, but sometimes-”

“I don’t think you’re an asshole!” You say, a bit too loud and it makes Daniel stop midway his sentence. He looks at you and just giggles, making you embarrassed of your reaction “Well, maybe I thought you were a bit, how can I point it out, a jerk? You know, I read the articles, so…”

“And now that you have known more than just gossip you don’t consider me a jerk anymore?”

“Now that you remember my name, yes, I don’t think you are a jerk anymore.” This time you are the one shrugging. 

The conversation continues smoothly, Daniel is easy to talk to, especially because he knows a lot about every and each subject. You start to understand why he’s one of the most loved drivers nowadays, why he’s so famous and surrounded by friends.

He’s the complete opposite of you, it’s so easy to have him around when he’s not mocking you, or being annoying. He’s so friendly and open to new things, new people, new experiences. You are nothing like him and you can feel a little sting of jealousy because of it. 

You wish you could be a little more like Daniel. You wish you were more likable like Daniel is.

“You are not listening to me, are you?” He snaps his fingers in front of your face, waking you up from your thoughts. You blink twice and look at Daniel “I asked if you wanted to take a walk to my car or if you will wait here.” 

“No, no, I will go with you.” You bluntly say, trying to not sound as weird as you think you’re sounding right now. 

You walk with Daniel again, but this time is different from the other couple of times it happened. You need to keep control of everything that is happening inside of you. It’s the first time you notice Daniel’s scent too, he’s so near you can smell every unique note from his cologne. Daniel bumps your shoulder with his own, opening a big smile at you.

“You know, sometimes I wonder what goes on inside your mind.” He says looking forward again “You’re always watching everything with care, your eyes are always following everyone around, but you keep quiet most of the time. I imagine that you’re arguing inside your head with yourself, judging people’s messy hair, maybe.”

You let a giggle out “I just like to pay attention to the smallest details of people. To know if they prefer sparkling water, or if they play with their fingers when nervous, or when what makes them emotional, perhaps a happy or sad song, a movie, a word. I’d like to know them and their little things, so I can feel closer to them.”

“Well, I’ve noticed you always put your hair behind your ear when you’re around people you like.” 

“I think it’s because I feel more secure near them.” You shake your hair, your hair falling from behind your ear “It’s silly, but…”

You stop for a second, your thoughts aligning inside your head. Daniel noticed about your quietness, about your eyes studying others, about the war that sometimes happens in your head. He noticed it, but most of all, he noticed your little thing. The thing you do with your hair.

Your eyes turn in his direction “Have you… been watching me too?”

It’s a weird question and as soon as it escapes your mouth, you wish you never did it. What do you mean by watching you? It can be something negative, nothing related with the sparkling feeling you felt inside your chest the moment you realized Daniel sees you.

But even with your odd wording, Daniel understands you. He smiles, but different this time. It’s not the most confident you’ve seen him give. It’s bright, but with a hint of… shyness? You feel like gasping.

“You caught me there, right?” He begins, putting his hands inside the pockets in his jacket “You catch my attention every time you’re in the room, I’m always trying to hold myself back, but my eyes are always following you whenever you go. But please don’t get me wrong, I promise I mean no harm.”

You’ve never felt this way before. Maybe because your best friends have always been Pierre and Charles, and you’re not the brightest star in the trio, so you think that your light is faint. You think that no one notices you, in a room full of people, you’re just another one - maybe even a very boring another one. But… Daniel saw you, he noticed you. Out of millions.

The ride inside Daniel’s car is normal, just small chats about something silly Daniel mentions. Now, you don’t hide your giggles and smiles and enjoy the moment with him. Deep inside you, you want to grab your sneakers and run away, to be far from him. But you hold it back, you hold back any intrusive thought, any sight of anxiety wanting to take over. 

Still, there’s something inside of you, trying to scream out, making your heart race faster and you feel breathless more than once. You ask Daniel to go grab your sneakers for you and you will wait for him outside the lobby of his apartment. 

Your heart is almost exploding and you hold your chest a bit to make it calm down a bit. The wait makes things worse and you can only smile at your silliness. Daniel comes down and runs to where you’re waiting for him.

“Here, Cinderella.” He hands over the sneakers you forgot by the pool. They look cleaner than before you went to the party, almost shining. He cleaned them for you “Do you need a ride back home?”

“No, I’m okay!” You answer with a higher tone, almost shouting it. Daniel chuckles at it and you wave a goodbye “Gave a good night, Daniel. See you soon… I mean, not that I intend on seeing you again, but we work in the same place and…”

“Goodnight, princess.” Daniel waves back at you, laughing. 

You feel your stomach flip.

“Goodnight, my newest friend.” You say. Daniel’s eyes sparkle at the world and he nods at you.

When Daniel is already back in his elevator and you’re already turning left in a corner, you take your phone from your pocket. It’s difficult to type with your sneakers in your hands, but you manage to do so.

ma fraise said: hot stuff, i-

ma fraise said: where do i start this conversation

ma fraise said: i have no idea

ma fraise said: omg

ma fraise said: but 

ma fraise said: how do i know if i have feelings for someone?

hot stuff said: sorry for replying so late i thought i lost my phone turns out i just forgot him somewhere

hot stuff said: are you having feelings for someone?

hot stuff said: have i lost you to someone else?

hot stuff said: but we can figure it out

hot stuff said: i will help you

#daniel ricciardo #f1 #daniel ricciardo fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x you #formula 1 #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #f1 fic #this is soooo smallll #hardly proof read i’m sorry #turning point in this story imo

[lollytea]

hc that hunter and willow end up sharing a lot of clothing and because hunter has issues with the texture of certain fabrics, he sews that little W patch to remind himself that this or that belongs to willow. theres ceirtaintly an easier way to remember other than sewing an entire patch, but he enjoys designing patches that match the clothing. anyways look at what uve done to me im thinking up domestic huntlow hcs

I could imagine that during the time spent in Camila's house, mixing up clothes was a frequent occurance. Usually between Luz, Amity and Gus. They're all roughly the same size so they'd pull out a shirt, take one look at it and be like "yeah this is probably mine." Considering they're GFs, Luz and Amity wouldn't mind. But Gus would definitely complain if he saw either of them in one of his dino shirts tho lmao.

Willow and Hunter are also susceptible to this but less so. Hunter accidentally wore one of Willow's T-shirts once and when she was like "Borrowing my shirt, huh? ;)", he was absolutely mortified.

"O-oh! Is this yours? I didn't-- I-I'm so sorry. I mean, looking at it now... obviously it's yours. It's got mushrooms on it. Like, duh, am I right? I'll-I'll take it off immediately lemme just--"

"Now I know you're not about to take the shirt off right now in front of her, right?" Gus quickly adds before he embarrasses himself any further.

Hunter freezes, hands bunched in the hem, seconds before yanking the shirt over his head.

"ObViOusly not!" His voice cracks, face scalding. "That'd be weird. So weird! No I-...I'll wash it for you! I know you don't want my weird smell on it..."

Willow tilts head to the side, cocking an eyebrow "I don't?" She asks innocently.

All Hunter can manage is a confused but horribly flustered squeak. It's amazing the heat didn't melt the skin of his face off.

Gus has to give Willow a stern talking to later that day. ("You WILL kill him if you don't tone it down. Stop the violence, Park!!!")

Anyway, after that happens, Hunter does not throw on just anything. He carefully scrutinises every article of clothing he dons and makes absolute certain that it belongs to him. So yeah I could imagine him sewing in little name tags just to keep Willow's clothes out of his pile.

However, this is the point where Willow starts "accidentally" wearing his clothes in return. She bounces into the kitchen for breakfast in one of his rocko button downs and it makes his galdorstone fucking flatline. Sees his life flash before his eyes as he chokes on his cereal. He cannt TAKE this shit anymore man.

You know his sweater? The soft yellow one? Willow once asked to borrow it. She, Lumity and Vee were heading out for a girls day and she had this cute skirt that she wanted to wear and that sweater would match it perfectly and... 🥺

Anyway when Hunter gets it back, there's a strong scent of perfume on it.

"You'll probably wanna wash that." Willow winks, fully aware that he hasn't a notion of washing it. She leaves Hunter a pile of mush, clutching the sweater to his chest for dear life.

He wears it the next day. There's still traces of Willow's scent on it. He tries to be casual about it but fails miserably. She grins like an idiot all day long.

But yes YES absolutely. In a few years time they are constant clothes sharers. Deliberate this time. Very funny to think about Willow intentionally avoiding textures that Hunter doesn't like when clothes shopping, even when they're for her. Cuz like...they'll end up on him at some point probably. If she owns fabrics that bother Hunter, it's clothes that aren't really his style anyway. But shirts, pants, jackets, hoodies. These are all fair game.

Hunter STILL distinguishes every article of clothing with the personalised little patches but you want to know the biggest reason I think he does this?

He wants people to know. He likes flaunting who he's dating honestly.

Luz: *pointing at the leaf patch on the sleeve of Hunter's jacket* Lemme guess. This is your girlfriend's?

Hunter: *is not a teenager anymore and tries to resist the urge to giggle. Fails anyway* yeah 🥰

#huntlow

[styrmwb]

I beat Final Fantasy VII Rebirth

There's gonna be spoilers in this just in case you care, hopefully I tagged it correctly, and also yeah this is a long one (I don't have it tagged game ramblings for nothing)

Anyways, loved this game. My gripes with it are very few, but unfortunately one of said gripes is very major and hasn't changed from Remake; but in the effort to Pretend like my thoughts are organized, I'm gonna section this cause sectioning is fun :)

Actually, one thing I wanted to note here (writing this after like, 3 paragraphs), is something that influences a lot of my love for this game is the fact that it... Doesn't suffer from translation problems like the OG. It brings factors that i never truly appreciated into the forefront, and clears up a lot of confusion. I wanted to put this here because I realized it would be weird to say all of my nonsense without clarifying this.

Gameplay

Rebirth (and Remake) is what I think is What modern FF should be. I absolutely love this style of combat so much. I do wish there was a very small passive ATB charge cause sometimes I get stuck in a situation where I can't do anything, but other than that the rotation of hack and slash then classic menu, and switch between party members is so fun, in the best of times I can make a really cool action scene, everyone showing off their own moves; it's a blast. I'll go a little deeper into the characters when I go to That section, but overall I found everyone really fun in some way, even though end game I ended up using the same party as I did in Remake (and also the OG VII lmfao).

I know to some/possibly most, the amount of open world (and Chadley) and the side quests might feel like a bunch of fluff and garbage, but I actually kinda really enjoyed it? I loved how the world intel all changed slightly as you progressed. Moogles as an example, annoying as they were, did add an extra level of challenge every time you saw them. When you had to catch a chocobo, it was a different style of stealth minigame. Summon crystals all had increasingly complicated patterns. Hell, even the towers were slightly different every time with how you had to climb or even reach them! I think this being the strength solidifies itself when I think of my least favorite intels being the Fiend Intel, because I think they were the most samey the entire game through. The side quests I compare to XVI. XVI's side quests were... like XIV. A LOT of dialogue, run here, more dialogue, fight one enemy or gather 6 items, then go back. Rebirth's quests felt... a little more alive? A little more varied? Sure, side quests are usually going to be the same in these styles of game, but I think of chasing a dog through the region while the dialogue happens along the way, I think of the options to gather more resources than the bare minimum for different rewards and dialogues, picking different flowers, having to pay attention to notes, having to interact with the minigames: it all felt more interesting and like I actually wanted to do them. The varied nature of everything is what made me enjoy it.

Oh and Queen's Blood? Greatest FF card game don't even @ me I had so much fun with it it better stay

Characters

One of my favorite parts of Rebirth is how much it helped or made me love the cast. Even characters that I did not care about or possibly actively disliked, this game made me enjoy. Main characters were all expanded on, side characters were silly, and brought back into relevance when I would never expect (Like holy shit I swear every named NPC from Remake came back which is so cool), and they all make the journey an absolute joy to take, and the world as colorful as FFVII SHOULD be. But let me talk about a cast that went from "yeah I like them" to possibly one of my favorite parties in the entire franchise.

Cloud

I honestly already considered him my favorite character in VII (which is a very hard thing to admit without the fear of people thinking you like him for the wrong reasons), and Rebirth being essentially half the game lets me get to see why again. A man who presents himself as serious and uncaring, but OOPS he actually does care and is really silly but unfortunately has some major mental problems! (please help him he is NOT ok). Sure, they kinda speed up his realization of certain aspects, and maybe they go a Little too hard on the fact that Something Isn't Right, but I really enjoyed seeing his declining mental state, its effect on the world, and his relationships with the party. The Sephiroth juice is intense at this point in the story, and I am very excited to see him in the next game. His gameplay is classic yet fun, with big swordy slashes and huge hits that don't have to be slow (they're sometimes slow).

Barret

My favorite part of Barret in Rebirth compared to Remake is how he didn't wear his sunglasses for most of the game. He's open, he's feeling, he's emotional; he's the big tough softy I love. This is where him and Cloud's relationship really gets to shine, where you can tell there is respect, trust, and concern between both of them. The Gold Saucer and side quests are where I think this is at its strongest, and I love seeing it. His gameplay makes him a really fun support, and just like Remake I had him as a sort of paladin healy tanky type, staying behind with GUN as he takes care of the party, which is really fun and consistent.

Tifa

This game does wonders for Tifa enjoyers (it's me I'm Tifa enjoyers), giving her a lot of focus and emphasis on that caring, observant nature that is her strongest suit. Her concern for Cloud and friendship with Aerith feel very strong here and it makes me happy to see. Her gameplay had her in my party the entire time no other reason, her fast attacks, dodges, ATB filling, and stagger damage multiplier being extremely huge in every single fight.

Aerith

The big one. Honestly, I'm gonna keep my real big story thoughts for later, but I will say I loved seeing her enjoy life, the open world, and helping others in the side quests. She's a great character to see happy :) Also, her scene in the Gold Saucer is probably now one of my favorite scenes in the entire series. It was so fucking stunning that I cannot get enough of it. Unfortunately, her gameplay is easily my least favorite out of the group, as her slow attacks and dodging (yes I know she has an ability to boost her attacks but that takes a while to get to) makes her kind of a slog in my hands, and better off in the computer's.

Red XIII

One of two characters that I did not expect to grow to love as much as I did. I'll prob mention this again later, but... I didn't REALLY know the extent of his change when I played the original. Yeah, I knew he was young for his race, but he always felt like just that wise grumpy dog man (some of this could be on me not reading well enough but between poor translation and Advent Children and the fact he didn't make it into DFFOO I'm gonna give myself a break). Rebirth showed me how much of a joy Red is. Despite the trauma and pain he went through, he's silly, he's excited for life, he has fun and loves his family. But also, despite this and his youth, he doesn't COMPLETELY lose his knowledge and wise nature after his reveal; he just relaxes more. I care about Red so much more than I originally did now because this change was made clearer. His gameplay is also really fun, fast attacks, strong defenses, and even stronger abilities (stardust ray my beloved).

Yuffie

We already got a good amount of Yuffie in Intergrade, so having her again here felt like anyone else from last game. However, I do absolutely love how she was integrated into the main plot instead of just being Girl in Forest. She served as great comic relief (and literally says this!) for her appearance in the story (although I do think there were a couple occasions where it was a bit much but that's ok her arc is next game), and I really enjoyed that she started to become a cared for member of the group (really shown by Cloud in the Skywheel date and her and Barret's relationship). Gameplay was just as fun as Intergrade, the throwing/ninjutsu swapping being a joy, and I loved using her doppelganger attack in combination with elemental weaknesses and Sonic Boom. Yuffie was key for some of the harder fights, the MVP fr fr.

Cait Sith

The other of two characters I did not expect to enjoy, and Cait Sith here is the absolute king of it, as I DID NOT like him in the OG. But here? He's a larger character, he's more sympathetic, he's a little more understandable, and his gameplay doesn't suck shit lmfao. His betrayal I think was done a lot cleaner this time around, where he really Felt like part of the group, and his return was done pretty smoothly but honestly doing anything other than being like "hi hello I'm back!" while Cloud beats the shit out of Aerith is an improvement I really enjoyed his melee/ranged nature being similar to Cloud, and his heavy hitting attacks. Despite the fact that he still had RNG, it was RNG that felt good no matter what and I appreciated that.

Cid and Vincent

Our poor poor "you're not allowed yet" boys. No gameplay section here cause they ain't got any! But that's ok, because for what little role they had, I really enjoyed their presence. Early Cid was very interesting to me, and while i do feel like he loses a little not being introduced as a complete dickwad, I still love having Cid around and giving him a little more connection to the party. He didn't seem as aggressive and %#*^-y, but I kinda hope we get more of that in part 3 when Rocket Town happens. Vincent, similar to Yuffie, gets tied into the story in such a great way. Getting to fight him was super super cool, and I loved that small amount of comic relief he gives by being Overly edgy yet out of touch with the world. I'm very excited to see where both of them go.

Zack

It took me some time to... Accept what Remake did to the timeline. Once I did, I was all in on the train for more Zack. I love Zack! He's my other favorite VII character other than Cloud! This game gave me more Zack, and I appreciate it for that. Not to mention his whole interactions with Aerith and Cloud made me very happy and filled a void in my heart I needed (that fucking synergy attack between the two of them???? DUUUUUDE) Unfortunately however; he didn't get to... get the story treatment I would have liked. Gameplay wise; I don't care much for his charge mechanic, sadly.

Sephiroth

I don't have much to say here. Sephiroth is Sephiroth. He appears, says "pee your pants cloud", then fucks off, and he's really good at that, and that's what he's supposed to be. My grudges against him aren't against him and more against who's writing him. Playing him was hype though, and I enjoyed his counter mechanic which I feel got later reincarnated into Red.

As for people other than in the playable cast, Dio was incredibly fun, Elena felt like a treat and a more threatening than the original but still showing that silly nature (pink gun???? no tactical advantage whatsoever I love it), Hojo is still the scum of the earth as he should be (he never gets better!), I got to actually understand what Bugenhagen is, and so on and so on. Nobody was worse than their original appearance and I loved that.

ALSO CISSNEI GANG RISE UP WE LOVE OUR GIRL AND I'M SO GLAD SHE GOT TO RETURN

Story

So. This is the big part. If I had to choose where my biggest gripe with the game would be, it would be in the aspect of story. This is the Exact Same Gripe I had with Remake, that being the aspect of whispers, alternate timelines, and whatever Sephiroth is cooking. This being.... I don't really like it? I don't think it adds anything?? It's confusing, intentionally vague, and it really ruins the flow that these games have otherwise. Cause aside from this singular (big) aspect? Dude! This game fucks! It takes every story beat that was in the original, and expands on it in a way that i feel makes me love the story and world way more! I feel like a lot of aspects got tied together a lot more smoothly (although again, I also attribute this to not terrible translation), and every experience that I expected from the original was a joy to watch in this game. The swamp, Junon, the boat, Costa del Sol, the Gold Saucer, Cosmo Canyon, Nibelheim, the Temple of the Ancients. These were all done so well. All of the side content and side stories were really fun, added a lot of character to the world. And with the slight changes they did make, like with Cait Sith's arc being changed to be more sympathetic instead of blackmailing and Cloud being controlled by Sephiroth NOT beating Aerith I think were actually done really tastefully and improved the experience (actually thinking about it Dyne's just felt like they wanted to hurt Barret more why would they do that). I just... I wish if they were going to do this whole alternate timeline dealy, they were a little more clear on it? i wish I could feel like it actually mattered to this series, but what i get is "oh wow the unknown journey" that turns into "yeah here are these extra bits that are confusing and don't change anything and actually instead ruin the impact of one of the most well known scenes in video game history)

With that I will talk about the ending. I was willing to ignore the fact that we didn't get to walk through the City of the Ancients more. I was still shaking and nervous until the very end, thinking "oh man what's going to happen???? oh fuck!!!" and what i was instead rewarded with was a constant whiplash of emotions and confusion that left me numb to what should have torn my heart out. I shouldn't have to be left wondering if a character truly died or not for the sake of "OHHH MAN TIMELINESSSSS WORLDS???" that didn't DO anything when I could have gotten either a successful changing of timeline, or a 4K edition of something to tear my heart out, and hearing the absolute pain in Cloud's voice in his speech afterwards. I am Really Hoping that part 3 will clear this up, and retroactively improve an ending and story beats that I think single-handedly knock this game down from a 10/10. I shouldn't have faith in them, cause they've beefed two endings in a row, but I do, because they've shown that everything else they can create are honestly perfect.

Graphics

shortest section in the world this game is beautiful the landscapes are beautiful the characters are beautiful (or ugly when they needed to be and it still worked) my eyes were given a treat this entire 80 hours

Music

shortest section in the world this soundtrack is amazing hamauzu and suzuki cooked and made so many good songs

it's like they knew tifa's theme was one of my favorites and proceeded to give me 20 versions of it also gold saucer getting individual remixes???? a top 5 battle on the big bridge? NO PROMISES TO KEEP???????? GOD FUCKING DAMN.

Unorganized Ramblings/Finale

I really did have a lot of fun with this game. I didn't feel soured until the end for the most part, even during some frustrating game segments (fuck you Rufus and Odin and then Odin again and also that last Fort Condor). I really appreciate getting to see the wider world of FFVII in a modern sense, and I think overall I appreciate what I didn't previously a lot more. I also loved how with the addition of a card game and Gilgamesh, it got to match up with VIII and IX, the other 2 PS1 FFs to really feel like a unified FF vision. This game kept the silliness that the original had on top of its incredibly dark setting for something that I love to describe as the same vibe as Yakuza. I laughed seeing Red get a whole scene instead of a single bit in his person outfit, and then cried at a newfound caring for Cloud, Tifa, and Barret seeing Jessie's poster in the Gold Saucer. The vibes were immaculate and I'm really really excited to see what they do for the final part (which is going to be called Reunion I'm betting my left materia on it)

9/10. The peak of modern FF gameplay that enhances a classic, but fails its mission of being different.

#final fantasy #final fantasy vii #textpost #games i beat in 2024 #jared's game ramblings #final fantasy vii rebirth spoilers #final fantasy vii rebirth

[slutforwings]

books i read in 2023 that i recommend :) mainly because i am trying to find new books to read in the 'book rec' tag and none of these people give summaries so I shall bravely do it instead for others!

wrong place wrong time - gillian mcallister (mystery)

Blurb: a woman sees her son killing someone in front of her, then wakes up the next morning only to realise it's the day before the murder. she keeps traveling back in time, unraveling the reason for the murder and trying to stop it along the way Review: i misread the back and thought it was gonna be a time loop but this was even better actually. i fucking devoured this book it was so compelling. i tend to devour mystery books like these regardless of their well-writtenness but this was genuinely really good and tied up everything neatly at the end.

autobiography of a corpse - sigizmund krzhizhanovsky (short stories)

Blurb: bunch of fantastical short stories like about the people living in your pupil, a society that deals in anger and malcontent, a guy trying to bite his elbow Review: this book made me realise i love short stories, but then it turned out i mainly love THIS GUY'S short stories. they were just that good. slavic writers are built different

the secret history - donna tartt (psychological fiction)

Blurb: cult group of pretentious college kids study greek and turn it into a personality trait. also theyre gonna conspire to kill one of their own and then try to hide it Review: all of these characters are cunts and i love them so much. do not believe the dark academia girlies peddling this book, these people are stupid and pretentious and morally corrupt and theyre SO MUCH FUN!! the internal monologues are fantastic, i want to study Dick's brain. its a very Long book and absolutely takes its time and yet it does not feel like any parts are really unnecessary. really good.

this is how you lose the time war - amal el-mohtar & max gladstone (sci-fi)

Blurb: two time travelers from opposing agencies each have a mission (the mission involves historic meddling through time travel but is honestly not as important) and keep encountering each other and leaving letters to taunt, falling in love throughout the story Review: listen i saw that tweet 'do not look up anything about this book and just read it' and i did and i had zero regrets. i bought the paperback after reading the ebook bc it was just that good. beautiful prose, fantastic worldbuilding that is sometimes only hinted at but everything made me go !!! can you tell i love time travel.

notes on an execution - danya kukafka (pyschological fiction)

Blurb: serial killer on death row recounts his life, as well as pov of the police officer that investigated the cases and got him in jail + pov's of the family of the victims Review: incredible story about family, morality and love. raises a lot of questions about criminals and 'evil' and does not answer them because that's the whole point. insane quotes too. also very vivid storytelling in the way that i could picture all the locations perfectly despite them not being described in detail. i think it was due to the intense Vibe

bunny - mona awad (uh. horror?)

Blurb: um. goth/'not like other girls' girl gets indoctrinated into joins a cult group of really girly girls that all call each other bunny and have kind of weird rituals meetings. Review: listen. i hate when people do this to me but. just read it. if you're a fan of magical realism and cult-y things, you're in for a treat. this book made me bike home in a daze. i love stream of consciousness where you as the reader are just as lost as the character! i love you bunny!

instructions for a heatwave - maggie o'farrel (fiction)

Blurb: a pensioned father leaves the house for his newspaper and then doesnt return. all the children are gathered by the mother to try and figure out what the fuck happened. Review: not so much a 'hey where'd he go' as it is a rumination on family and unconditional love. ofc theres some family secrets that get revealed but i found it more interesting to watch the family dynamic and the changes the secrets brought to it. bittersweet :)

#book tag #book recs #book review #book rec

[olderthannetfic]

Follow-up to the other anon’s note about avoiding big fandoms if you don’t want drama: If you find that you really can’t avoid wanting to participate in a big fandom (I get it, the first thing I wanted to do after finishing OFMD was rush to AO3 to read about those gay pirates finding each other and kissing again), one of the perks of a big fandom, especially if it’s based on something current, is you’re a lot more likely to see people you like from previous fandoms follow you there. The tactic I took with OFMD when I very quickly saw it replicating some of the same toxic patterns I’d seen last time I was involved in a big current fandom was: a) deliberately stay out of the discourse and just read fic, b) find a small group of friends to discuss it with to get out all my fannish feelings. Because yeah, that cute raunchy gay pirate show sleeper hit really quickly turned into a horrifying discourse thunderdome on Twitter and Tumblr where people were threatening suicide if the show wasn’t renewed and claiming it was “racist” to like it and “that is the POC opinion” based their misread of a mostly-positive review by a white critic (and also viral Tumblr posts clearly written by people who didn’t watch it because they accused it of not doing things it actually did do). And then the people claiming it was “sexual harassment” to tweet fanart at an actor from the show who actively invited it, and of course, the scourge of every slash-centric fandom where there isn’t a shipping war: top/bottom discourse. It would’ve burned me out on that fandom super fast if I hadn’t had a) and b). Anyway, in my opinion, a big fandom is a lot like any big social group: sure, there are more assholes, more parasocial weirdos, more creeps, and what drama there is is heightened… but it also means there are more good people, and also just more OPTIONS in general. It takes some time, but it’s ultimately going to be easier to find your niche, and you just have to have the self-control to stick with that friend group and stay away from the weirdness elsewhere. Whereas with a small fandom, yeah, there are going to be fewer assholes, but the ones who are there will have more impact. It’s way easier to screen out one obnoxious killjoy or drama queen when the Tumblr tag gets hundreds or thousands of posts per day rather than 3. (Likewise with fanfic: there are lots of options! If you hate one particular trope or writer, that’s fine, there are a whole bunch more! Even if your least favorite headcanon has become the popular one, there’s bound to be lots of other fics that still don’t include that headcanon. Whereas if you’re in a fandom with like 30 total works on AO3, if someone whose writing you don’t care for or who portrays your ship/characters in ways you disagree with or whatever has written 27 of those fics, you’re SOL)

--

[akajustmerry]

I'm new to the walking dead and was wondering if you would elaborate on the backlash to richonne you mentioned in the tags of your post?

hiiiiii sure! honestly, it was just racism. I wasn't so deep in the fandom, but I saw the "discourse" through callout posts from the general twd blogs I followed at the time. it's weird to explain, I feel like elrond in LOTR like, "I was there...."

okay so, the walking dead for a very long time was just a show about mostly white people surviving the apocalypse, and was very conservative in a lot of ways because of that. so the audience for the walking dead included a bunch of white people who were very racist and sexist because the show, especially in its early days did not encourage a vision of an inclusive apocalypse. that came a little later though, thankfully.

anyway, a lot of those people hated michonne from the JUMP. if memory serves she was basically the first woman of colour in the show and she was an intelligent, savvy, beautiful dark skinned Black woman. so racist fans hated her just for existing. Michonne was also kinda a mystery for a good long while, which racists also took as a cue to assume she was evil.

Michonne and rick first met a few episodes after rick's white and shitty wife lori (who nobody liked ftr) died. I mention this because about a season later when rick and michonne start getting along (not even romantically just like quite literally start being friends), racist misogynoir weirdos started claiming all kinds of horseshit like michonne was plotting against rick, or rick not liking Black people cos he used to be a cop, ppl even claimed that LORI fucking LORI was actually the love of rick's life lmao. this shit went on for YEARS before rick and michonne even got together.

When they finally did in SEASON 6, 3 whole seasons after they'd met and Lori dying, etc. there were people with saying unironically that their romance didn't make sense, came out of nowhere, wasn't "real" - you know, all the shit racists say when they don't wanna be direct. It wasn't backlash so much as just the usual low hum of racism that exists in any fandom for a thing that's about a white man.

I've always just followed very general blogs or my friends so I steered clear of it mostly. but as a fan of colour, racism in fandom is impossible to avoid and you're so used to it being in media too. I rmr being shocked when rick and michonne did get together not because I didn't want them to but because I was so used to racist TV shows where interracial love stories just didn't really happen and if they did they were so shit. I think that's why I love them so much because they're so lovely despite literally all the odds!!!

#the walking dead #tv #this blog was and is always a Lori grimes hate blog

[lyranova]

I read all your rant about Finral and Finesse and everything, and even though I completely understand your points... I have to admit, I never felt that Vanessa and Finral were teased as a ship, but as best friends. I understand why people felt otherwise, but it wasn't my case (even today, I only feel the friendship chemistry, but I DO support those who ship them). Isn't it weird that we felt something else entirely for the bond between Vanessa and Finral?

On the other hand I was immediately totally on board for Finral and Finesse. Don't ask me why, I just find it so cute from the start. But I do agree, that it might should have been introduced a bit better and certainly sooner, maybe.

Sorry if I bother you with that. It just made me think, how different we felt about this topic, but how I can still totally understand your point and Acacias. And I totally support that. Ship Finral and Vanessa all you want, consider Finral and Finesse as friends all you want, be happy about it! I fear it's just not my cup of tea in a romantic way, but that is just my opinion. But as best friends, as Brotp, I'm all on board for it.

(Sorry that I submit, but the ask didn't let me write all of this^^')

———-

Hiya @just-a-little-fan-1793 (I wasn’t sure if the submitted post would tag you or not 😅)! I wonder why the ask box wouldn’t let you type this all out, that’s really odd 🤔, maybe Tumblr is glitching again.

No worries, not everyone views things the same way, if we did, it’d be pretty boring wouldn’t it 😆? At least that’s what my other mutuals and I say when we talk about disagreeing or we have different opinions on things! Like for example; there’s a certain Kdrama that I’ve watched and loved where a lot of people felt the FL and the ML had a bunch of chemistry and wanted the characters to get together, but I on the other hand felt that the ML and the Second FL had a lot more chemistry together (even after I rewatched it I still felt the same) and that the FL and ML were just…friends? Aquantinces? Understanding of each other? I don’t know the right word rn, but apparently the writer felt the same way because in season 2 they heavily implied the Second FL had feelings for the ML 😆!

So it really is fun where people can watch the same show and get totally different vibes from characters, ships, etc! Whether it’s kdrama’s or anime! And I think that’s something I love about fandom, you and someone else could have watched the same scene but got two completely different things from it, which makes it fun and interesting I think!

Anyway back on the topic at hand; I don’t mind Finral x Finesse 🥰, I’ll admit they’re not really one of the ships I think about a lot, but I think they can be very cute together! They really should have introduced Finesse better then they did 😔, or even hinted at her existing like my mutual @loosesodamarble said (Langris could have easily mentioned her when he saw Finral in Kiten, like Erika said, but they didn’t 😭!)

You aren’t bothering me with this! I actually enjoy talking about ships and how peoples ships are different then mine (if that makes sense, I have a killer headache so I’m not sure if I’m making much sense 😆!). I think it’s fun how differently we see the topic, and I 100% support you in shipping Finral x Finesse 🥰! If (or when tbh) they become canon in Black Clover I’ll fully support them and love them as well even though I ship Finral x Vanessa. And I support you in only seeing them as a BROTP, they certainly are best friends at the end of the day, which makes me love those two no matter what 💕!

Thanks for sending this in, I don’t know why tumblr glitched and wouldn’t let you send it in as an ask 😔. But I still enjoyed hearing your thoughts and opinion, even though they’re different from mine 🥰! I want this blog to be a safe place for everyone to voice theirt houghts and opinions whether we agree or not 😁. So thank you for sending this in 💕!

#asks #just a little fan 1793 #my lovely mutuals #black clover #black clover ships #thanks for asking 💕!