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a-b-riddle · 2 days

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Part 2

Can't stop thinking about reader finally cutting them loose.

For three days there was nothing but radio silence. In those three days you had told yourself that it was a grace period. Time for Simon to cool off and realize how much of a bastard he was for saying all those things he obviously didn't mean. Johnny coming back over with a bouquet of flowers and endless apologies and cuddles.

Simon didn't apologize for his harsh words.

Johnny didn't call you later, as promised.

For three days you jumped at every single notification, silently hoping it was one of them. Any of them.

But it wasn't.

And you, unfortunately, got the answer to the question you had been asking yourself for months.

Did they still want this?

The answer was clear.

You didn't let their unofficial dismissal get to you. You still had shit to do. A life to get on to. A book signing to go to.

Jesus.

A book signing. A book you wrote. A book that was being published and released the day of the expo. You weren't expecting a huge line because this was your debut novel, but with the help of some ARC readers who had took to social media, there had been a bit of a storm brewing.

You had listened to John when he had mentioned writing under an alias. Don't know how crazy people are out there. They'd do anything to get close to you, Dove. Just better to protect yourself where you can. You almost hated yourself for listening to him now. Now you would just have to keep writing under your pen name.

You were getting ready to close up shop early when your phone finally pinged.

Kyle.

Fuck.

Of course it was Kyle. The one who hadn't treated you like you were constantly bothering him. Not the one who made you feel guilty for agreeing to your arrangement. Nor was he the one who fucked you and left you. No. He was just the one who just wasn't there.

Maybe that was just as bad.

What are you up to today?

That was it. Almost two weeks of radio silence and that's all he had to say? It just added more evidence that you were making the right call in ending this now. It had already carried on for too long.

You had two things on your to-do list and you wouldn't let Kyle's sudden reappearance deter you.

E-mail the publisher back.

Change the locks.

You didn't have the strength to face them again. If they groveled, it would be too easy to take them back. One against four wasn't much of a fair fight. And if they didn't care to fight for you... you don't know if you could survive it. Coming face-to-face with the proof that it didn't bother them to give you up even though it was killing you.

No. Cutting it off completely was the best thing to do.

So you didn't respond.

You left Kyle's text unanswered as you e-mailed the publisher back that everything was set for your flight on tomorrow morning. You would spend Thursday adjusting to the time difference and Friday you would rest up before the expo this weekend. She assured you that you would need to rest up your writing hand. Whatever that means.

You left Kyle read as you closed up shop several hours earlier than usual. You needed to drop off the bank deposit before you started on task number two.

You didn't bothering responding to Johnny when he had texted you when you were leaving the hardware store, purchase in hand. Asking if you were free Friday. Promising dinner. 'In or out. Your choice.'

It was almost second nature when you got home to pull up your phone. Ready to text one of them to see which one of them could come over and help.

Fixing a leaky sink? Nothing Johnny hasn't seen before. Need help moving furniture? John won't mind when you change your several times on what should go where. Kyle would always come in with take out the moment you mentioned you were hungry and whenever you felt like going for a walk when it was a bit too late in the evening, Simon was the first to volunteer as your personal guard dog.

But asking them to come and change the very lock you planned on using to keep them out seemed... counter productive, if not downright petty.

You were almost done with the lock when your phone sounded off. Only this time it wasn't a text. Someone was calling you.

You almost faltered when John's name came on your screen.

Fuck.

That almost got you.

You almost answered it.

Almost.

You clicked on the 'Sorry, I can't talk right now. Options, before finishing up your work.

And just like that, you were done. No help needed. You had changed the lock. Even adding on a deadbolt. Replacing the flimsy chain Simon had taunted you about. If someone wanted to get in here, that wouldn't stop them.

Well, now you didn't need to hear it anymore.

Not that you would really hear it again...

Your flight was in twelve hours. Although that seemed an ample amount of time you hadn't even begun to pack. You had luckily narrowed your outfits down, but now was the task of folding it nicely into your suitcase rather than just stuffing it in there.

On my way. We need to talk.

It was too late for talking. Three days too late. Several months too late.

The last message sent was four weeks ago. A new Thai place had opened up close to your apartment that you were wanting to try. All of them had given you excuses.

Not my taste, Dove.

Cannae do it tonight. Next weekend? Next weekend didn't happen either.

I can do tomorrow. Kyle ended up bailing. You forget the excuse he used.

Simon hadn't even bothered to reply.

The final nail in the coffin of your relationship. Almost two years wasted with nothing, but a broken heart to show for it. And the worst part is, they had all chipped away at your heart, leaving you to deal with the final blow that would shatter it.

Im sorry. I can’t do this with you anymore. wish you all the best.

Your fingers made quick work in blocking their numbers. It was best. If they wanted to reach you, they couldn't. On the other side of the coin, if they didn't care to reply, you wouldn't spend countless hours crying over the fact that none of them had been affected the same way you had.

You would deal with getting them their belongings that they had left behind another time. You had big things, great things happening for you. You were cutting your loses. You were cutting them loose.

You just hoped you didn’t regret it.

#captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #call of duty #john soap mactavish #poly141 #angst #grovel #groveling

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hurthermore · 1 day

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hii!! ur writing has a choke hold on me!!🤯anyways, im so deprived of some comfort rn- could you maybe do something related to aftercare? For ex: Alastor comfort after a bit of degradation was taken too personally from reader :> (maybe some comfort while bandaging them up too idk)

Literally obsessed w ur shit ur like my fav hh writer, and ty for reading :3

Of course!<3 and TYSM!! That’s so sweet<3 warnings for sexual content, fluff? (Idk what fluff is apparently from my death one shot)

Your Alastor had always liked indulging in a bit of rough and degrading play; but this time he had went to far.

He had crossed one of your boundaries he hadn’t been aware of, calling you a degrading name you weren’t okay with; and as soon as that word left his mouth, you had become stiff.

Alastor had noticed immediately.

Stilling inside you, halting all movements, Alastor could only look in your eyes as he searched for consent within, searched for anything in your expression that still said you wanted him to continue; but he could not find it.

“Is everything quite alright, darling?” His tone harshly contrasted the nasty and rough demeanour he had with you only moments ago; now giving you a loving and soft voice as he checked in on you.

Looking to the side, you avoided his gaze as the word he used on you still pang through your chest. “Don’t call me that ever again.” You had spoken more harshly than intended, with a sharp snap in your tone, verbally indicating your distressed mood.

Immediately, Alastor had pulled himself out of you, only to wrap his arms around your torso, pressing his face in the snuff of your neck as he registered you were referring the to not so pleasant name he had called you as he fucked himself inside of you. “I’m sorry, darling.” He had meant it; truly. The dousing of guilt that consumed him as you emotionally pulled away from him had him panicking ever so slightly. “It won’t happen again.”

Sighing, you knew he had meant his apology, and despite how much the word he used had hurt you, you knew he had no ill intentions when using it; he merely indulged in a bit of degradation that you also found sexually arousing.

Placing a hand against the back of his hair, you tilted your face back to his. “It’s okay love; just please don’t say that again.” You had whispered ever so softly in his hair, only to feel him shiver from your breath cascading down his neck.

“Would you like to stop?” He had mumbled against your skin, asking for your consent to continue the sexual encounter.

“Yes…”

You weren’t in the mood anymore; and as soon as your deny for consent left your lips, Alastor clicked his fingers against one another. On command, the room you both inhabited slowly changed, warping from the confines of your shared room to a familiar one filled with items of pampering; a room Alastor only brought you to after he had made love to you or fucked you.

He had always been a gentleman to you, despite his preference to be less than gentleman-like whenever he pummelled himself into your walls, he always put your pleasure and your needs before his own.

It was something you were grateful for; and one of the many reasons you loved him.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, Alastor began hoisting you up, guiding your legs to link around his naked waist as he carried you to the large, hot bath imbedded in the floor; a bath which mimicked one of a hot tub in size.

Stepping inside, his hooves clicked against the metal alloyed bathing area as the two of you began to submerge within the hot water; it’s temperature relaxing all of your muscles as it began to douse your body.

Alastor had slowly settled you down in the bath, only to take a seat beside you as he held you close, his hands stroking parts of your body as he continued to comfort you.

You believed you would fall asleep if this were to proceed.

“I am truly sorry, my love.” He had spoken with such honesty and vulnerability as he held you, apologising to you yet again, despite doing so earlier.

“It’s okay, Al.” You only responded with a soft sigh as you leaned yourself against him.

“You know I don’t mean those things during our rougher sessions, don’t you, my darling?” He had asked ever so softly and gently, attempting to approach the subject in a calm manner, one that would be proefficient in cheering you up; his beloved.

You had only mumbled a yes, nodding your head as Alastors lips began pressing themselves against your neck. “I know, love. It’s just- that word.”

“It won’t be used again,” He quickly interrupted you. “My perfect little darling, I swear it.” He said between the pecks of romantic kisses he placed against your neck.

The smile that enriched your face wasn’t missed by your lover as you allowed him to pamper you, to echo sweet words of love and loyalties into you skin, to kiss sweet gestures of love along your body.

You were blessed to have such an evil man be your darling sweetheart.

#alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #reader insert #x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader smut #alastor smut

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sugojosgf · 23 hours

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flaky toji 🗣️🗣️🗣️

angst + smut + hurt no comfort

it's right after an argument, so he fucks you like he hates you. words of apology lost in air because both of you knew it would just go back to whatever it was before.

he'll bet against a losing horse again, you'll accidentally call megumi your son, both of you turn a blind eye to the future because any apology is better than bitter silence.

he has you on all fours, his hand wrapping your hair as he pulls you back with such force, you begin to see stars behind your eyes. "fuck! take it-" he groans, when he pounds into you, balls slapping against your skin.

"tooo-toji, can't!!" you whimper out, unable to take any more. your arms weak, from his continuous thrusts, give out and you fall on the bed, face mushed against your pillows.

the air is so dizzy with the smell of sweat and skin with both of your moans bouncing off the walls. you can feel him pulsing inside you, pain and pleasure dancing together.

you start to sob because of how good it feels, tears ruining the makeup you had done earlier. streaks of mascara ran down your soft cheeks and your lipstick smeared all over your lips. your tongue lolls out and your eyes cross and you can't breathe anymore.

"toj,,,,a little slower please- please my love." you whisper with the last shred of willpower left and something changes.

he hadn't been called that in years, and the last time he was called someone's love...

toji stops and pulls out, his cock covered in your juices. he holds your hips, right at your love handles and softly enters you again.

it's different the way he fucks, no makes love to you. it's soft caresses and gentle kisses on your shoulder, slow fulfilling thrusts that don't hurt you with the sudden stretch. it feels like he almost loves you this way. almost.

he makes you arch and revels in your beauty, the tasteful nature of your dip. his calloused hands travel down to your clit and he plays with it, writes his initial on it.

"you are so pretty f'me." he mutters when you come on his cock. even when you whine that it's too much, he doesn't stop.

"i'm almost there-" he groans, "you are so beautiful mama, only for me." as he fills you up. sticky cum dripping out of you even as he keeps you plugged.

and then he tells you how much he loves you,,,

but was it really for you when he's calling you by another woman's name? the same one that the son you consider your own, calls at night when he can't sleep? the one that's actually married to him on paper?

"toji?" you turn to look at him, ears ringing when you hear her name. "i'm not her."

"huh?-" his eyes widen. he sees your face flushed, and eyes glossed with tears threatening to spill. your pretty lips held between your teeth as you try not to sob. he sees the way you look at him, but he also sees that you are not what he wants to look at.

"fuck."

#toji hours 🎍#toji fushiguro #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji x reader #toji smut #toji x you #toji x y/n #jujutsu toji #jjk x reader smut #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk smut #jjk fanfic

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jxnxai · 2 years

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waiting

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #my art #lets see if this miraculously gets a lot of notes #im done 1/4 of s4 on my relisten #im scared !#hey rusty quill why couldnt it be [fabric rustles] all the time huh #anyway ace pin #EDIT: this sketch was heavily inspired by a drawing of @yumbles on tumblr/ xoxobouma on twitter #<— i’m pretty sure they’re the artist #i wanted to give credit to the person who made the original idea #apologies for not writing this out earlier

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bubacorn · 2 months

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hc: Vessel is bad at receiving compliments and being told that he is loved (hug inspired by this one, @ghxstly-death put it into words perfectly. thank you, Eden!🫂)

Thinking about Vessel who can't accept compliments, not because he doesn't believe them (that too), but because he'd heard them so many times in the past related to small, unimpressive things. Not 'I'm proud of you', just 'You did good', an automatic response to any and all achievements. He did good. He didn't know what 'good' meant, but apparently, he did that. He has no idea what was good about what he did, so he continues to push himself, to not be a disappointment. If he does good, then that should be enough, right?

He tries for great, for excellent, for something more, but he always gets 'good', unrelated to the effort and time he put into something. He knows he shouldn't wish for more specific compliments, or anything else, really. He should be grateful to be regarded. Everyone around him is so busy, they can't possibly have time to listen to him talk about how in reality, he has no idea what he's doing. How things sometimes just click but he can't tell if what he did is actually worth anything or it was just pure luck. How he doubts himself at every step but learned to hide it, because he has to be good. And good means coping and dealing with things by himself and quietly, because then he will be told that he did good and who wouldn't want to be good?

Vessel who hears 'I love you' for the first time (said with actual love behind it for the very first time) in a really long time from II. He wouldn't tell the other that, but it's clear from the surprise and the hopeful longing in Vessel's eyes. His friend told him he loves him and he doesn't know what to do with that, so he hesitantly steps to him and begins to lift his arms in question. II's heart squeezes at his shyness, after all, the other has spent months alone in the manor, so it's understandable that he would have grown unaccustomed to touch. But then II has to pull Vessel against him, because the man sort of hovers his arms around his frame as if he doesn't know how to approach a hug. Like he isn't sure what is expected of him and what is too much.

Vessel is surprised when II squeezes around his torso, when he brings one arm around his shoulder and the other to his neck, trying to bring Vessel down towards him, like he wants to protect and shelter him. That's strange, but Vessel finds that his arms want to stay wrapped loosely around II a bit longer and just as he starts to pull away, II again says "I love you, Vessel", and Vessel's brain freezes. II squeezes him tighter and Vessel feels so warm and strangely loose (he's afraid he will unravel if he stays too close for too long) and small even though he towers over his friend. His friend who is now holding him and who apparently loves him.

The only thing in his mind stumbles from his tongue in the form of a quiet "Why?". He didn't do anything exceptional. He was showing II an arrangement and said he wasn't sure if it was any good, letting his fingers dance over the keys, feeling like he was stumbling through music. He felt like it captured that familiar insecurity, and he liked it and hoped II would like it, too. Even if it didn't make it into a song. Then II said he did like it, that it feels like Vessel is unsure but it gives the melody a unique flavor, and that Vessel was great for translating that feeling into music.

"'Why?' ?" II's answering question is filled with such disbelief that Vessel wants to hide. He said something inappropriate, something secret that had previously only been dwelling in his mind, in a dark corner, and now he feels exposed. Why did he even open his mouth? Not good. Definitely bad.

Vessel is slumping against II a bit, like he doesn't know how to hold himself upright anymore, like he needs support. II must feel it, because he's still holding him, and it's been minutes and Vessel tries to squirm away, to save any dignity he might still possess, and II lets him slip out of the embrace, but his arms linger like he doesn't want to let go of his friend. His friend who just blurted out the worst response to a confession of gentle affection. Vessel looks so worried when he catches II's gaze and he immediately averts his eyes and takes a few small steps back, unconsciously gravitating towards his piano for protection, a sense of safety.

"You're my friend, Vessel," II tries approaching the man with soft words, "You're kind and considerate and a damn good musician," Vessel stops backing away when the back of his legs hit the edge of his piano bench, but he's still looking at the floor, "You pour your heart into writing and playing and it's amazing to see. You're committed, but patient and you help me every time I need. Even when I'm too embarrassed to ask," II tilts his head and steps a bit closer to try and catch Vessel's gaze, "I know you don't see it and I'm sorry that you can't because it's true. I would never lie to you about this, Ves. I love you, you're my best friend," Vessel presses his lips together, so II adds, "Not just because we live in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. You're the best friend I've ever had. And I'm glad Sleep led me to you."

Vessel gives him a look that shows he tries really hard to believe him, and adds in such a low voice it's almost a whisper, "I love you, too," as if he's embarrassed to admit it. But it's not embarrassment, II realizes, it's disbelief, it's some sort of deep shame about needing someone else, of relying on anyone else but himself at all times. And it makes sense, considering Vessel's nature, but II could never put it all together, since large chunks of Vessel's past were unfamiliar to him. He could have guessed based on how the man acted, but he didn't want to assume anything. It felt disrespectful. Vessel would share if he wanted.

"And I'm really glad you found me," just a beat of silence, before he adds, in an even quieter tone, if that's possible, "And that you stayed," Vessel risks a bashful glance towards II, and sees him blink rapidly, shocked by the implication of the other's words, before he shakes himself and steps closer to Vessel. He searches his face for apprehension, but doesn't find any, so he gently puts his hands on Vessel's upper arms and sits him down on his bench. Before Vessel can react, II has his arms wrapped around him, one around his shoulder, and the other's hand cupping the back of his head and cradling it to his front.

"You're important to me, Ves. You're special and precious and I love you," II's fingers caress the man's shoulder and card through his hair, "I want you to know that I'm here for you any time, okay?" Vessel is still stunned and he's sure he's going catch on fire if he gets any warmer. II twists a lock of hair around his finger, "Okay?" Words form and die in Vessel's throat so he just nods, rapidly, almost hurriedly, and II lets out a small chuckle. "You're amazing, you know that?" he nuzzles into Vessel's hair for a moment to murmur, "And adorable," II sways with the man in his arms a little and Vessel is sure he will combust. His face is flaming against II's shirt and he tries to suppress the half grimace-half grin on his face and feels unreal. "C'mon. Tea break?" II smiles down at him and offers a hand. Vessel can stand on his own, but doesn't reject the offer. He likes the warmth of II's hand and he can always use the stability and the reminder of the other's presence. II soon replaces his hand with a mug of tea, but it's considerably colder to Vessel. The contrast is especially palpable when II brushes his knuckles against Vessel's as he's handing him his tea. The mug is warm, but II's skin is burning against his. But it's not bad. It's a good burn. It makes Vessel feel alive. Seen. Loved?

Vessel learns that he doesn't have to prove himself to other people to receive love. Love is not something that has to be earned in their home. Love is not a reward, not something that Vessel has to work for, then be disappointed that in the end, it isn't actually given to him. He tried being good in the past, being silent and keeping his head down and being a good kid, but the warmth and the unconditional love didn't come. He still tried, though, he always tried his best, but apparently that wasn't enough. Or there wasn't actually love at the end of that tunnel. It was just a play of light. But that would have been cruel and Vessel would like to think that people in his past weren't intentionally unkind to him (he won't admit the truth to himself for a while).

II often tells Vessel that he's proud of him. For speaking up. For telling him when he's having a bad day. For asking for distance when he needs it and closeness when he feels like he will drift away. For admitting to messing up, when he falls back into bad habits of self-destruction and isolation. For doing a grocery run by himself even though he goes home almost shaking and has to spend the next hours under a blanket on the couch, because it was simply too much. For crying when he talks about memories that he tried his hardest to forget but he just can't. For asking for help and letting II help him, even though it's hard. It's really hard, and Vessel apologizes for it, for being fucked-up and broken and damaged goods. For wasting II's time and being a burden, a needy, greedy thing. Wretched. Minus human.

But II tells him he loves him and that he could never be a burden. That he will always be worth it, he always has been, and that he's sorry that people in Vessel's past couldn't see it. Couldn't see him for all that he is. For the friend who pays attention to little details so he can show his friend how much he values him. For the guy who bakes his friend a complicated cake for his birthday because he off-handedly told him he can't even remember what it tasted like, even though it used to be his favorite. For the amazing composer who can capture emotions one doesn't realize one has. For the hard-working, curious kid who thought that being obedient and not questioning authority was the way to earn praise and affection. For the little boy who thought something was wrong with him, that he did or didn't do something and that is why he couldn't feel loved. For the child who cried and cried, silent and under the cover of the night, hoping that no one would hear (and secretly hoping that somebody would and they would come and save him from the gaping emptiness that made its home in his chest, way too big and scary for a boy that little). For the boy and then the man who couldn't cry anymore but thought that that is more than alright, at least he can finally keep it all inside. For the partner who allowed himself to be vulnerable with someone he trusted. For the partner who made sure his other knew he was always welcome, even though his brain sometimes tried to tell him otherwise. For the partner who grew comfortable with expressing casual affection so much that terms like 'darling' became second nature to him (and for the way he blushed when II told him that). For the man who learned to accept that it's okay to admit to not being okay, to need someone, to want to not feel alone, to feel cherished, to have his feelings validated. For the man who can tell his partner anything and does, because he knows he can speak his mind and that there will be someone who listens.

II wanted to see Vessel. Vessel let him. Even before he showed the uglier and less than perfect parts of himself, II loved him all the same. It was never about being 'good' and silent and compliant. Vessel is good. Vessel is not good. He's amazing. He's perfect. He's wonderful. He's cherished. He's incredible. He's valued. He's seen. He's listened to. He's heard. He's finally, finally loved. Has been for longer than he dared to think. Will soon be by more people than he thought possible.

#Vessel was a gifted kid who tried to push through burnout and mental illness #waiting for someone to tell him they see and love him and are proud of him #and you can't change my mind #making myself sad first thing in the morning #what else is new #<- it's night since then but this still applies #yes i included a Metallica reference (almost two). fight me (please don't i have shrimp-like arms and get scared easily)#also #tumblr scared the crap out of me earlier #i posted this privately after it posted instead of saving it as a draft #and apparently it was visible #and i got so freaking scared cause this wasn't finished #so i apologize for deleting and reposting #but my heart stopped for a moment and i whispered like 10 'shitshitshit's at my computer #i should be reading for a class tomorrow #sleep token headcanons #buba writes

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lord-squiggletits · 2 months

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Speaking of Tyrest. A lot of people forget that he treated Pharma with absolute disdain, not only using him as a test subject for a clearly painful mass murder machine, but talking to Pharma like he saw him as nothing but some henchman to order around that was nothing more than a 'diseased cripple' if Tyrest hadn't come to rescue him.

Like it really is an interesting background dynamic with some curious implications, but when you look at fandom posts from around that issue/the years after, for some reason people just saw "Pharma worked with Tyrest" and concluded Pharma is a card carrying bigot ksjfnskxkd. Like yeah Pharma didn't do anything to stop Tyrest but it seems his main beef with the Autobots was with Ratchet in particular and maybe a general disdain for his ex-comrades. As well as continuing to hate Decepticons which like, not even the "good Autobots" are immune to (even in Pharma's introduction, First Aid says in his journal something like "yeah we all hate Decepticons, but Pharma REALLY hates them"). And despite what fandom likes to construe there's really no evidence in IDW1 that Autobots and Decepticons are different "races" or "types" of Cybertronians, so Pharma hating Decepticons really isn't a bigotry/robot racism thing. And instead probably has something to do with, idk, the 4 million year long galaxy-spanning blood feud war, or maybe being blackmailed and tortured into insanity by the Biggest and Most Decepticon-y of Decepticons.

Tyrest treated Pharma like trash, the other Decepticons working for Tyrest (how come no one ever brings that up btw) also hated him, so if anything it seems that Pharma was more of a rogue element only staying with Tyrest bc he was his best option and probably had no way to even escape.

I'm glad that at least in recent years the fandom has acquired a keen reading eye and good taste to finally recognize Pharma as the (accidentally) complex character he is instead of making him some posh, racist Starscream clone SHSJDGSGDH

#squiggposting #pharma apologism #yeah i'm apologisting again i guess my mental health is somewhat okay again dkdkkxckkddkd #(my followers seeing me post about pharma) nature is healing #there's also that line where pharma says 'maybe i can help' and skids is like #'fuck off and hope we don't beat you to death after this is over'#they didnt know that pharma was a test subject of the killswitch but wow #that's prolly one of the most out of pocket moments of the story that ive never seen anyone mention #honestly that moment is why i think JRO didnt intend pharma to be That Deep #i feel like that sort of 'not even other autobots like him' treatment is something #that comes up a lot in JRO's villain writing. or like asshole behavior towards some characters #is just plot events proceeding as usual. nothing to see just villains getting their due #tho tbh pharma's character in general suffers from the problem that he's so closely related to a main/major characyer #that it wouldve made way more sense for him to be written in earlier #so all his connections w/ ratchet and the plot had to be established retroactively #also speaking of 'asshole behavior excused bc it's towards a villain'#all those times when people are like (fucking amazing piece of medical research by pharma)#'then he started murdering his patients. what a piece of shit'#like idk it could have been intentional but imo all my readings of pharma were not really intended by JRO #and i'm fully just headcanoning and constructing theories on my own #like pharma was simply not important enough or a major enough character to get fleshed ojt #so basically we get enough pieces of him to establish continuity and a general timeline of his life and thats all

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novelconcepts · 6 months

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more and more it's feeling like we just...don't have room for people trying anymore. it's all or nothing; get it right the first time, or be crucified by a jury you can never fully see or convince. and this isn't new, isn't born of current events. it's become more and more prevalent over the last ten years thanks to social media putting every little thought on blast, but i'd put money on the idea that it's actually been brewing much longer than that. and, for me, it goes beyond being tiring or upsetting. it feels bleak. it feels downright fucking broken that we're all so busy trying not to condone anything remotely problematic that we don't leave room for good faith learning. watching people trying to suss out their own identity--something literally ONLY they can fully understand or explain--be vilified for trying to fit words around their own experience sucks. watching people misunderstand something and try to apologize for it later, only to be told they should have known all along, sucks. seeing people who once held truly toxic beliefs actually grow and learn and apologize and still be told to fuck themselves as if they're a lost cause--it sucks. just. does that not fill you with despair for the state of things? does that not break something in you, to think that if you one day don't understand something, or misuse a word, or grapple with complicated feelings, it will forever stain you in the eyes of perfect strangers?

dude the world is fucked, and we all see it, but like. it doesn't feel like it helps to be so goddamn reactive. it doesn't feel like it helps anyone to demand perfection out the gate. it's exhausting. there are enough people out there who don't want to learn, who aren't trying, who actively revel in cruelty. looking for malice in every little fuck-up from people who seem to be genuinely striving to live their lives with kindness strikes me as lending strength to an army that already glories in suffering. and makes the world look more fucked than ever. and i really don't know that that energy is what we need when there's already so much to set right.

maybe it's just me. maybe this last decade just shattered something in me. but i really, really hate the idea--reject the idea, frankly--that people can't learn and change and grow. that people can't be better than a bad day or a failure of understanding. i reject the idea that people are something to be thrown out because they fucked up. it just seems...yeah. bleak. really fuckin' bleak.

#personal #i dunno dude #this is that fighting energy from earlier. found some actual words for it i guess #but i'm just so tired #shit's fucked. some shit's complicated. and some isn't--some feels incredibly straightforward to me.#and to the next person maybe there's more nuance. it's all so fucking...there's so much to process all the time #and i catch myself in knee-jerk mode #i catch myself writing people off. making lists in my head. sometimes it's just purely a matter of safety #but god the things i'd give for some of those people to come back into my world #to learn. to grow. to apologize. to decide they value kindness and life over brainwashed beliefs #i would give so much for those friends back. those family members. those people i knee-jerk wrote off back in 2015 #i shrunk my world down when i cut them out. i shrunk it down when i told them to fuck off instead of having a conversation #i actively made my safety net smaller in the effort to keep myself protected #and i just keep watching other people do similar things #and thinking like. if i could go back. if i wasn't so hot-headed and Certain that evil thoughts make a person evil #or that miseducation or ignorance or straight-up brainwashing broke a person for good #maybe it would all be different now than it was for my 25-year-old self #i just. i don't fucking know.#people are trying. people need to KEEP trying.#and telling them they're shit for NEEDING to try is only ever going to carve out the part of them that wants to be better #the world is fucked. why help fuck it even more. what is the point of that.#and i'm not saying don't call people on their shit. but maybe calling them shouldn't look like telling them to kill themselves #maybe it should involve a little grace #slamming doors just feels like it makes the house smaller. and shuts off exit routes you might need later #and i kinda wish i'd known that in my 20s

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calsvoid · 7 months

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have a sebastian line of a scene i might never write because i never write in general

“I don’t think you’d like younger me very much.”

#glee #sebastian smythe #seblaine #writing #in my brain sebastian was even worse when he was at 15 #just all lashing out and ignoring guilt and being mean without thinking about it #and like i know that’s he was shown in canon #but i think it was real fucking messy before #and hey he’s better now he knows to apologize #because you can mature even if you’re a shitty person while continuing to be below the desire level of goodness #because growth is not perfect and fast #also yes this is seblaine because this is a seblaine scene #it’s kinda just like blaine wishing he met sebastian earlier so they had more time together #and then this line #so yeah

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running2reanimation · 11 months

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Wonder

What if…

King tried not to get lost in imagination, in the what could haves and what should haves. It usually only hurt, but today he was alone. With Purple gone and nothing to distract him…

Imagine if the machine had worked and Gold had just walked out of the game after his allotted time. King imagined that he would have chattered about the game the entire train ride home. King wouldn’t quite understand his son’s enthusiasm but he would nod along as his son explained mechanics that he knew all too well now.

King doubted that would be the last he heard of Minecraft. His son never did anything in half-measures. Would he have turned to criminal activities just to get a chance to play again? …Probably.

Maybe there was a secret group of underground teens who had a portal much like he did now, that seemed believable.

Gold probably would drag Aqua with him, since they did everything together. Hard to say if Aqua would like Minecraft though, maybe the building aspect. King could see her building a farm.

Would Gold and Purple meet? Now there was a thought. King doubted they would get along, Purple probably would find Gold grating. Especially Purple as he was when they’d met.

Or Purple would have tricked Gold into doing something dangerous for Purple’s personal gain…

Gold would die in Minecraft all the time, but that would be okay because he’d just respawn in a bed.

Would Gold bring him into Minecraft? King doubted it. To never have set foot in the game… was a strange thought that filled him with emotions he still didn’t want to look at closely.

Gold probably would have spent that summer obsessed with the game, then gone off to college in the city. Gold had never been sure what he wanted to pursue and honestly King figured his son would become a stay-at-home dad.

King might even be a grandfather by now, though maybe not; Aqua would still be in veterinary school. He could picture the greenish baby stick, though and his son’s tears the first time he got to hold them… so like King’s own, though hopefully Gold’s tears would be pure joy and not half sorrow like his…

But… what was the point of imagining all this?

None of it was real. It hurt to do it. Made his chest ache in longing for a reality that could never be.

He was in his house alone. Sitting in the dark. He should probably go to bed, but the thoughts and feelings wouldn’t make that easy.

King pulled out his phone and checked the time before send a text to Purple anyway, “Are you up?”

Purple’s reply took just long enough that King thought maybe Purple had gone to bed, “Ye just finished the movie. Was about to head back.”

“I thought you were going to stay over there?”

“If you think we’re bad at sleeping, they are way worse. Except for orange, he fell asleep during the movie. I want sleep so I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon.”

Maybe this wasn’t all he’d dreamed of. But, that didn’t mean it wasn’t still good. That he didn’t have things to look forward to here. That there wasn’t still hope. That he wasn’t still grateful what he did have now.

Purple was going to get one hell of a hug when he got home.