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retroellie · 3 months

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Polluted

Summary: After a long day of work, Spencer comes home and fucks his stresses away.

A/N: This was written in literally 45 minutes but I had this idea and I couldn't make it into a full fic, my mind could only think of the smut part lmao. Enjoy!!! :)

Warnings: NSFW, slapping, degradation, squirting, unprotected sex, mean!spencer

Word count: 1.9K

Prison changed Spencer Reid, plain and simple. This is not the man you came to love. He was cruel, possessive, completely and utterly damaged. You hoped that prison wouldn't taint Spencer too much, you hoped that he would continue to be sweet little Dr. Spencer Reid. But you knew what prison could do to a person, for you locked people up daily. You knew that the system would take Spencer's old soul and soft heart into its muddy hands, squeezing them until they became one. Although sometimes in the right lighting, in the right moment, you can see a hint of Spencer in his light brown eyes.

You can't say that you hated the change in Spencer, obviously there was much work to be done before Spencer could truly be himself again. However, you could live with this change. He was hungry, feeling as though your body was the only thing that could fill that hunger. It was extremely attractive to you, his sudden hunger for you. Spencer was always using you, using your body or your mouth or your hands... just you. There was always an excuse for him to be inside of you in his mind. A man thought of looking at you? He bent you over the kitchen table. You wore a shirt that showed a bit of your chest? He dragged you into the bathroom and forced you onto your knees. You smiled at him? He would shove his face between your thighs until you couldn't even see straight.

Even on the way back home after he had gotten out of prison, he bent you over the backseat on the side of the road and fucked you roughly. It felt like you were stepping on eggshells every time around him because you never know what can set him off... it was oddly scandalous, almost arousing as the thought of how he'd fuck you next was always on your mind. A big plus was that spencer dug himself into your brain, pulling out your deepest and darkest kinks, and using them to give you earth-shattering, mind-blowing, life-changing orgasms. Now you don't think you two could ever go back to just plain sex. He had ruined you, ruined your body so much that only the thought of being hurt could get you off now.

"Fucking bitch..." Spencer spat out, his hand spreading your legs further open as his cock drilled into your soaked cunt. "That bitch looked at me like I was fucking stupid..."

His words came out breathy and jagged as he fucked into you at an animalistic pace. Spencer came home today upset, his tie being ripped off and thrown down as soon as he got into the door. You knew something was up by this action, but also the look on his face. He seemed to have a frown sewn onto his face, something that he wore most days. You asked what was wrong but you were met with him ripping off your clothes, hinting that he didn't want to talk but to fuck his frustrations into you. Now here you were, panties ripped off, legs wide open, Spencer deep inside you with his hand placed on your neck.

You couldn't tell how many times you came just in this position alone, you couldn't keep count. His hand gripped your through, affecting the way your brain functioned. You felt with every thrust of Spencer's hips you would lose brain cells... creating the dumb cock whore that Spencer ached to achieve. Spencer's hand applied more pressure to your throat as he thought of what happened at work, how while section chief Erin Strauss critiqued his work, people were being murdered.

"As if my 187 IQ wasn't enough for her." He started, his hand on your thigh being slammed down past your face and into the wooden table he was drilling you into. " I mean, I've been at this place for over 10 years... I know what I'm fucking doing"

You came again, not able to keep yourself from unraveling now. His hand on your throat was constricting your moans, completely silencing them as the only thing that could come out of your mouth was soft gurgles. You loved this feeling, knowing that at any moment if you didn't like it you could alert Spencer and he'd stop immediately. I guess you could say that Spencer's care for you never disappeared after prison, he would go on to say that it strengthened his love for you. He had this picture of you that you had sent him in one of your many letters, he kept it with him everywhere he went for it was the only thing that kept him sane.

One time a fellow inmate saw it, snatched it from him, and digested every single inch of you. He went on to explain the disgusting things he would do to you if he got the chance, that is exactly why Spencer came home to fuck you nice and good every night. Because if he wasn't the one to do it, he knew that other people would take you for granted, they would spend only minutes with you... ignoring what you needed and taking what they wanted. You would feel incomplete, unsatisfied, and completely in denial that love existed. You would assume love was only made for books and movies, that no one could show you the love you deserved. This is the love you deserve. You deserve a love that could have you coming undone over and over again, a harsh and mean kind of love but that always ended with soft kisses and a nice hot bath. A love that was sour at first but ended sweet, making sure that the words "i love you" were carved onto your skin.

"You wouldn't do that would you?" He whispered into your ear, his grip on your throat as he waited for your response. " You don't think I'm stupid ...hmm?"

His cock was too deep inside you, it was deep enough to have you going cross-eyed and unable to speak. Your moans became audible now, no longer being stuck in your throat due to his pressure being released. His pace was still inhumanly fast, not stopping even for a second. The table had started to shit forward, being scrapped across the floor and probably worrying the downstairs neighbors. You were on the verge of cumming again, your mind not even able to comprehend his question until you felt a harsh sting on your cheek. Spencer had slapped you across the face, growing impatient while waiting for your answer.

"Answer me...." He hissed out, leaning down and taking his lips to yours. He bit down on your lip, creating a pain that shot through your body. "Or I'm going to make you cum over and over and over again until you can't think of anything else besides my cock deep inside your tight little pussy..."

You could taste blood now, your lip bleeding and seeping into your mouth. His words created this deep, rough knot in your stomach. It wasn't like the rest of the orgasms you had tonight, no it was more intense. It hurt, painful with every thrust of his cock. It created a deep pain and pleasure dynamic in your body but felt like something was trying to claw itself out of your body.

"Fuck..." You screamed out, grabbing onto him and digging your fingernails into his back. "No I wouldn't! Fuck... I wouldn't! I won't!"

You finally replied, hoping with those words he would deepen his thrust if that was even possible. Spencer just grinned down at you, placing his head in between your shoulder blade and your neck. He set soft kisses to the skin, his warm lips against your burning skin. Spencer was close, your words pushing him further to the edge. The feeling inside your stomach didn't stop or dull, it only got worse. You were screaming now, Spencer's hand lingering on your neck but sitting gently on your skin. Spencer picked up his speed, the table scraping against the floor even harder.

You couldn't handle it, everything around you becoming so far away yet being so close. The feeling got to a point of feeling terrifyingly painful but also so potent of pleasure and so bewitching that you didn't want it to end now. A couple more of Spencer's deep and harsh thrusts sent you over the edge, the painful knot in your stomach snapping and shooting liquid out of your body. It was the first time you had ever squirted, the feeling so glorious that you wished it would happen every time. Your vision went out, only seeing light and hearing Spencer's soft moans as he finished inside of you. The world felt like it ended, nothing to be seen or to be experienced... just emptiness but complete fullness all at the same time.

"Good girl..." You heard Spencer's words echo through your now-empty mind. You couldn't tell if your eyes were closed or not. "You did so good for me honey... I'm so proud of you."

Those single words were all you needed to hear as you floated back to earth and into your body, you blinked a couple times... forgetting where and who you were for a split second. You came back to see Spencer brushing your hair back from your sweaty face, his face inches from yours as his face filled with concern that maybe he had broken you finally.

"There she is..." He chuckled softly, kissing your lips softly. " There's my girl..."

You gave him a weak smile, raise your hand to rest on his cheek. You rubbed it softly, feeling the growing stubble on his face. He was just as sweaty as you, his body hot to the touch. You two probably looked insane, one of you barely able to walk looking beat the hell up and the other one scratched up and drenched with liquids. Spencer gently slid himself out of you, watching you wince softly as it felt like he was connected to you at this point.

"Sorry..." He whispered, taking your hand in his as he rubbed your thigh gently "I was too rough huh?"

Rough was not even close to what Spencer was. He was brutal, sadistic, barbaric but you couldn't deny that you would choose it over compassion any day. You began to think that maybe prison was the best thing that could've happened to Spencer Reid, not only was he a genius but he now had a powerful glow to him. Shy kisses and longing gazes were a thing of the past for you two, Spencer knew what he wanted and he was going to get it.

"You were just rough enough..." I chuckled, feeling nothing but content and at peace in this moment.

Spencer laughed with you, pecking your lips one last time before pulling away from you. He looked around, his eyes landing on the couch. He smiled, walking over and leaving you but only for a second. He came back with a blanket, wrapping it around you then picking you up bridal style. You thanked him silently because you knew there was no way you were getting off the table without some kind of help.

"To the bath you go..." He joked, holding you close to him as he walked you to your shared bathroom.

You looked into his eyes and at the right lighting, the right moment, you looked into his light brown eyes... realizing that this is Spencer Reid. This is Spencer Reid damaged, polluted, and bruised... but it was still the man you fell in love with all those years ago.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #matthew gray gubler

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bunnliix · 27 days

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Love Shot

Inspired by this dialogue prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting "You’re so adorable. I want to pick you up and never let you down."

word count: 1 260 warnings: drinking, alcohol, (not) unrequited crushes, reader getting drunk, reader wanting to get blackout drunk

I was never the type of person to go out clubbing and drinking. Any of my friends could tell you that. I normally stayed far away from clubs, they were far too loud for my taste, and yet here I was on a Friday night, by myself trying to get blackout drunk. There's a bit of a backstory on how I got here, and it all started earlier while I was on campus.

For a bit of backstory, most of my friends I met while in college, except for Felix. Felix and I have been friends since high school. We were both the nerdy type of kids, except that he had the advantage that puberty was nice to him. While I've had a crush on him since I met him, however I valued my friendship with him too much to ever say something. I'd rather an unrequited love, than to lose him over something simple like a crush. It ended up happening by pure coincidence that we attended the same college, but it worked out really well for me. I'm more of an introvert, while Felix is the extrovert who makes all of our friends, and that's more or less what happened.

Most of that isn't really important though, to be honest, except that I still have the biggest crush on Felix, six years later. He and the rest of our friend group, affectionately called "Stray Kids" for some reason or another, are the campus hotties. Which means I get to see girls upon girls try and shoot their shot with all of them, and for most of the boys, I don't give a shit who they date. I however get way too envious sometimes of the girls I see hanging around my best friend. Chan, the eldest of the friends, was sitting with me while we watched the boys have fun.

"Are you ever going to say something to him? About your crush on him?" He questioned me. I turned to him like he was crazy. We've had this conversation a million times, and it was never going to happen.

"I've told you Chan, he'd never like me that way, and I'm never gonna jeopardize my friendship with him over a stupid crush."

"You'll never find out if he likes you though, if you never say anything." He retorts.

"I don't wanna find out if he doesn't like me. Besides, there's a good chance I could mess things up between him and I, and I'm not taking that chance." I stood up, and moved to leave the table, grabbing my things as I said goodbye to Chan. I really didn't want to deal with the guys nagging me to finally ask him out, it just made it worse. I headed home, before having the stupid idea that I should go out and drink instead of staying home, but impulsive decisions are a thing I do a lot.

I know it's kind of a shitty reason to be out trying to get blackout drunk at a bar, but honestly I couldn't think of anything better to help me deal with the pain of not being able to tell Felix I like him. I was about four drinks in, and already on my way to being wasted when I felt a hand land on my shoulder. I look back, my vision already blurring to see Felix behind me. "Hiii Lixieeee!" I giggled, waving at him. He grabbed my hand, pulling me away from the bar, while I took my drink with me.

"Lixie, where are you taking me? I was having a good time at the bar~" I pouted at him, my words slightly slurring. He stopped suddenly and turned to face me, leaning down to cup my face in his hands.

"Why are you out drinking? This isn't like you." He asked me, looking concerned.

"Why are you so concerned, Lixie? I'm just having some fun and letting loose a bit. Aren't I allowed to have fun?" I shoot back at him, some frustration coming out in the process. I chug down the rest of whatever was in my glass, feeling the burn as it made its way down my throat. Felix reached to take the glass and put it somewhere out of my eyesight.

"Chan told me where you were. He was out with a couple of the other boys and they saw you here by yourself. You never go out to bars, why are you even here? If you wanted to drink, I would have brought over stuff, and we could've had fun at your apartment. Why are you doing this? Tell me, please?" He questioned me, begging me to answer him.

I assume it was my lack of self control, but I blurted out, almost angrily at him, "I'm in love with you, okay! I've been in love with your cute face for the last six years, and I can't bear seeing you with other people. I want your eyes on me and only me. And I was never going to tell you because I didn't want to ruin our friendship." I couldn't bear to look at him after that. Felix went silent, and I started getting tears in my eyes, which started falling when the man started chuckling.

"You’re so adorable. I want to pick you up and never let you down." That made me look up at him in surprise. "Did you never think I wanted you too? I've wanted you so badly, wanted to call you mine. I was too scared that you wouldn't feel the same way. Oh baby, I think we've both been idiots for a little too long." He pulled me into a hug, resting his head on top of mine, before saying, "How about we head home now, yeah? We can talk about this more in the morning, when you're sober." I don't have it in me to do anything more than nod.

He takes me back to his car, opening the passenger door and helping me in, before going around to the driver's seat. He started the car and drove us the short ride to his apartment he shared with a couple of our friends. I was still a bit too intoxicated to walk by myself, so Felix assisted me up into his apartment, and then into his bedroom, having me sit down on his bed while he found clothes for me to wear. He set them out on the bed, pushing me to change into them while he went and found a spare toothbrush for me to use. By the time he returned, I had changed into the shirt he left me, but decided not to put on the shorts. He handed me the toothbrush, and since I had been here before, I knew my way to the bathroom. I quickly washed up, feeling a bit less wasted by the time I returned to his room. Felix was already waiting on his bed for me to get back, and ushered me into his bed and under the covers, while he laid down on top of them.

I looked up at him, and softly asked, "Can you hold me while I fall asleep?" He nodded, blushing and moved under the covers with me, as I rested my head on his arm as his other one came around my waist.

He softly kissed my cheek as he whispered, "Good night." It didn't take me long to fall asleep in his arms, feeling the happiest I had been in a while.

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #felix x reader #lee felix x reader #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #felix imagines #lee felix #skz fluff #skz angst #skz felix fluff #felix angst

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hanniluvi · 9 months

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ෆ — A LOVE LETTER - JAY FIC

SYNOPSIS — sometimes, only a love letter is what it takes for someone to get into a relationship.

PAIRING — crush!jay x crush-gn!reader

WARNINGS — a kiss i think that’s it? || WC : 1.9K+ (1966)

SOPH — tysm for requesting anon ! i hope i did it justice , and i did gn reader since you didn’t specify !

"I'm telling you, Jay totally has a thing for you!" Chaewon excitedly whispered in class, poking you with her pencil insistently. You attempted to brush off her words, even attempting to snatch her pencil away. "No way! Have you seen him with that other girl?"

"Just because he smiled at her doesn't mean he has feelings for her!" Chaewon's frustration grew as she wondered how oblivious you could be. "He has smiled and talked to you countless times. Why wouldn't he like you?"

"I don't know..." you scribbled in your notebook, unable to focus on taking notes any longer. You stole a glance at Jay, your crush, diligently jotting down his own notes like the great student he was. "I just don't think I'm his type."

"Come on, YN," Chaewon sighed, giving you an exasperated look. "You have no idea what his type is, and if you're too scared to make a move, you can't jump to conclusions," she emphasized, pointing her finger at you for emphasis.

"Do you think so?" Your gaze remained fixated on him, captivated by his every move. Even in the simplicity of his school uniform, he managed to make it look effortlessly stylish.

Suddenly, someone called out Jay's name, causing him to turn in your direction. Inadvertently, your eyes met, and he rewarded you with a warm smile. You returned the gesture, but quickly averted your gaze.

"Chaewon, what's happening to me?" you whispered, holding your breath as your heart raced.

The sound of the bell resonated through the classroom, instantly filling the air with a cacophony of noise. Chaewon rose from her seat, wearing a mischievous smile as she nudged you gently.

"That's love, you idiot," she teased, her voice barely audible amidst the commotion. “Let’s not be late to our next class, okay?”

With a sense of urgency, you hastily gathered your books and shoved them into your bag, eager to catch up with Chaewon. Walking side by side, the two of you engaged in your usual banter, oblivious to the bustling hallways around you. It was a stroke of luck that you shared a majority of your classes with your best friend, Chaewon. But what made it even more special was the fact that you found yourself in many classes with Jay, your secret crush.

Despite your best efforts to keep your feelings hidden, it seemed that Chaewon had caught onto your little secret. She had been an observant friend from the beginning and could sense the chemistry between you and Jay. You had always shared an effortless connection with Jay, as if you had known each other for years. It was this natural connection that made Chaewon ship the two of you right from the start.

"You know, YN, it's so obvious that you and Jay have something special," Chaewon teased, nudging you playfully as you walked together.

You rolled your eyes, trying to brush off her comment. "Oh, come on, Chaewon. We're just good friends. Nothing more."

She raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smile on her face. "Good friends, huh? I've seen the way he looks at you, and the way you light up when he's around. There's definitely more going on there."

You let out a nervous laugh, feeling your cheeks heat up. "You're reading too much into it, Chaewon. We're just really close."

She chuckled, giving you a knowing look. "Well, if you say so. But mark my words, something's bound to happen between you two. Love has a way of finding its way, you know."

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. "We'll see. For now, let's just focus on walking to our class together."

And so, you arrived at your next class, reluctantly parting ways with Chaewon as you followed the seating chart. It was an unfortunate moment, as you wished you could continue your conversations with her. However, fate seemed to smile upon you as you made your way to the back of the classroom, spotting an empty seat next to Jay.

Taking a seat beside Jay, you caught his eye and a bright smile spread across his face.

"Hey there, seatmate," Jay playfully greeted, his tone filled with warmth and familiarity.

Taking a moment to compose yourself, you met Jay's gaze and returned his smile, feeling your heart flutter at his playful greeting.

"Hey, seatmate," you replied, your voice laced with a mix of excitement and slight shyness. The term "seatmate" seemed to hold a certain charm, as it implied a level of closeness that thrilled you.

You were grateful that this class was a free period, as it meant you could focus on your own tasks without much interruption. As the class started, you settled into your usual routine, pulling out your books and assignments to work on.

While you were immersed in your own world, Jay's voice caught your attention. It seemed like he was engaged in a friendly argument with his friend seated beside him. Curiosity piqued, you glanced in their direction, but soon realized you couldn't decipher the details of their conversation.

Deciding to maintain your focus on your work, you popped in an earbud, tuning in to your favorite playlist. The familiar tunes enveloped you, creating a pleasant soundtrack to accompany your tasks. With the music playing softly in your ears, you allowed yourself to delve into the world of your assignments, momentarily oblivious to the conversations happening around you.

Jay's friend persisted, nudging him with a mischievous grin. "Come on, man, just give them the letter. It's not that difficult."

Jay's eyes widened with a hint of panic, quickly shushing his friend. "No way, I can't do that," he whispered urgently. "And lower your voice! We don't want the whole class to know."

His friend chuckled, but lowered his voice as instructed. "Why not? You've been crushing on them for months now. It's time to make a move."

Jay fidgeted in his seat, his cheeks turning a faint shade of pink. "I don't know, man. What if they don’t feel the same way? It'll just make things awkward."

His friend leaned closer, whispering in a conspiratorial tone. "Trust me, Jay. I've seen the way they look at you when you're not looking. There's definitely something there. You just need to take the chance."

Jay's gaze shifted nervously towards you, who seemed engrossed in your work, unaware of the conversation unfolding nearby. His heart pounded in his chest as he contemplated the possibility of confessing his feelings. The fear of rejection battled against the hope of reciprocation within him.

After a moment of hesitation, Jay let out a sigh, realizing that his friend might be onto something. "Fine," he whispered reluctantly. "I'll think about it, okay? But no guarantees."

He stole another glance at you, his eyes softening with affection. As the class continued, he found himself lost in thoughts of what might be, contemplating the possibility of taking a leap of faith and sharing his true feelings with you.

As you were engrossed in your writing, you noticed Jay discreetly sliding something towards you. Curiosity piqued, you removed your earbud and met his gaze, sensing his nervousness. "Just read it," he stammered, his voice betraying his inner turmoil.

Putting the earbud back in, you carefully looked at the envelope, intrigued by its possible contents. A cute sticker adorned the front, causing a smile to grace your lips as you peeled it off.

With anticipation, you unfolded the letter and began reading its words, immersing yourself in the words. Jay discreetly stole a few glances at you, his heart pounding in his chest, anxious about your reaction.

"I always find myself questioning the warm, bubbly feeling inside me. Who and what made me feel this way? Well it was simple; the answer is you. It would be foolish not to seize this opportunity to confess my feelings. So, here I am, presenting you with this letter to express what I've been wanting to say. Perhaps it's a cowardly move to resort to written words instead of speaking them directly, but it brings me a sense of peace to share my feelings with you in this way.

Anyway, YN, I like you. More than you may realize. I find myself constantly drawn to you, observing you as you work and have fun with your friends. You have an undeniable ability to light up the entire room, whether you believe it or not.

Being with you evokes emotions I've never experienced before. It's inexplicable, but undeniably positive. You have made me discover what it truly means to have a crush on someone.

You will always be remembered as the best seatmate I could ever ask for. Now, to avoid overwhelming you any further, please know that you are under no obligation to accept this confession. Even if you don't, my feelings for you will persist. I have no problem with waiting for you until I can’t no more.

So, please don't keep me waiting any longer and let me know your answer. I have intentionally left a blank space for you to fill.

With sincerest affection,

Jay"

You wore a broad smile on your face, reaching for the pen on your desk. With a sense of excitement, you began writing your response, carefully choosing your words. Once finished, you folded the letter back up and confidently pushed it towards Jay, who was anxiously fidgeting nearby. With anticipation in his eyes, he eagerly took hold of the letter and unfolded it, ready to read your reply.

"The answer will always be yes for you,” he read the words, his face lighting up with a radiant smile. Playfully, he jotted down a little something on the paper, his smile growing cheekier by the second. Instead of folding the letter, he simply slid it across your desk, leaving it open for you to see.

"Let's seal this agreement with a kiss, shall we?" you couldn't help but chuckle, feeling a mix of embarrassment and amusement. "That was quite cheesy, Jay," you teased, finally turning to face him and removing your earbuds.

"Your blushing face tells a different story," he remarked, pointing out the obvious flush on your cheeks, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "But, you know, you don't have to—"

Before he could finish his sentence, you silenced him with a quick, unexpected kiss. The bold move left him momentarily speechless, his own face turning red as the realization sunk in. While his intention was merely to provoke a reaction from you, he couldn't deny the rush of excitement that coursed through him now.

“Quite bold, aren’t we?” he chuckled, feeling a surge of heat rush to his cheeks. He playfully fanned himself, trying to hide his flustered state.

"You started it," you replied, a mischievous laughter escaping your lips as you enjoyed the sudden role reversal.

"Wanna finish this assignment together?" he asked, turning his attention back to the task at hand. You nodded in agreement, prompting him to move closer and place his textbook between your desks.

In a bold move, you reached out and took his hand, holding it discreetly under the desks. He squeezed your hand in response, his heart racing with excitement.

"How am I supposed to focus on the work now?" Jay chuckled, pretending to be distracted by your touch.

"Don't worry," you reassured him, a playful grin on your face. "I can work on it while you provide the answers. You can just copy it later."

"Sounds like a plan," Jay agreed, glancing at your notes and offering his input.

Meanwhile, Chaewon watched the two of you with a knowing smile, silently celebrating the fact that you had finally become an item. It was a moment she had been eagerly anticipating for ages, and now her efforts had finally paid off.

💭 — jay one chance 🙏🙏

ENHA PERM TAGLIST — @flwoie @ixomiyu @yenavrse @shinsou-rii @bearseulgs @ilovewonyo @yenqa @dimplewonie @bubblytaetae @wtfhyuck @ineedaherosavemeenow @starcubes @starikizs @wonioml @chirokookie @xiaoderrrr @neozon3nha @en-chantedtomeetyou @millksea @enhaz1 @eundiarys @woon2u @ja4hyvn @judeduartewannabe @j-wyoung @thia-aep @vampcharxter @softpia @officiallyjaehyuns @itsactuallylina @hsheart @sweetjaemss @ahnneyong @hanienie @jwnghyuns @kpoplover718 @jiawji @rikizm @haknom @yeokii @wvnkoi @whoschr @teddywonss @shinunoga-iie-wa @flwrshee @skzenhalove @chaewon-slays @misoxhappy @s00buwu @ox1-lovesick

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bg3sinbin · 1 month

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Alright so I told myself I wouldn't post anything about it... but I still can't stop thinking about the A!Astarion kisses, Tav/Durge's face during it, and the stupid blow up around it. So here we go

Warnings: This is long and rambly and contains all kinds of spoilers. I am an A!Astarion lover. I will not be responding to discourse on this post. I do not care if you disagree. Make your own vent post.

OKAY so the brunt of the arguments I keep trying to ignore seeing surrounding this are how the expressions are "immersion breaking" for A!A fans, and everyone else clowning on them (sometimes rightfully so tho, ngl) because "the game gives the player expressions all the time! why are u mad now? do u just want ur Tav/Durge to be a blank slate?? lmao idiot" which ??? okay it feels like ur purposefully missing the point.

Yeah, actually sometimes this game gives my Durge some really ooc reactions. And it does, in fact, bother me. That being said, that is to be expected when u take an oc u had for like ten years and try to stick them in a pre-programmed video game. Things are gonna get ooc sometimes.

It also though, is usually smaller moments. Or things that happen Once and then u move on. Conversations where I go "hmmm. he wouldn't say any of these. oh well." or moments where he reacts negatively to terrible things that this evil bastard would normally laugh at. OH. WELL.

Now here's where my frustration actually come in. This game does a really good job, probably a better job than anything else I've played, at letting u play an interesting evil char. Something more than just "I am Rude, Aggressive, and A Dick To Everyone" and thus being punished for it gameplay wise.

I can play The Dark Urge, literal child of the god of murder, a canon necrophiliac, cannibalistic, gore freak that was going to flatten the entire world. There is a whole ass plot line and ending (multiple achievements included!) surrounding doing just that. There's all kinds of nasty interactions/plot options programmed in.

Yet, to the best of my memory, my Durge doesn't look horrified when we choose to slaughter the grove. He doesn't look horrified when we choose to kill the Dame Aylin, or Isobel. He isn't Obviously Distraught when we choose to help Astarion complete the ritual, or when we kill Shadowheart's parents, or become an Unholy Assassin of Bhaal.

To my knowledge, the player character isn't made to look afraid when kissing Dark Justiciar!Shadowheart, nor when they are literally poisoned by kissing Minthara. Sure, u CAN be offended about it in the convo with her after, but its still ur choice as the player.

I mean shit, they even patched in (in that very same patch) a positive, supportive reaction from ur evil partners at the end when u take over the nether brain! (at least for A!Astarion, and Minthara) so now when u do the evil thing that u and ur evil partner have been talking about all game, they don't suddenly change their opinion the second u actually do it.

And I really appreciate that about bg3. I can make evil choices and get interesting outcomes rather than the game just locking me out of all content actually made for that quest. Like ffs u can only get Minthara's romance scene if u slaughter dozens of innocents.

THIS GAME REWARDS U FOR DOING THE BAD THING. And like the evil options do usually have drawbacks and/or are less fleshed out than the good ones, but there are whole ass plots arcs u will never see if u only play good chars. This game makes playing an evil character interesting.

So why is it that I can do all that, and make/have my Durge react (mostly) accordingly, yet the moment the partner I chose acts controlling, now is when my characters feelings are being decided for me?

I can spend the whole game hearing Astarion talk about how spawn are controlled, how all vampires want is power, and I can say to his face "yes! this character wants that! turn me!" and yet somehow... what? the creators think I didn't know?

It just genuinely doesn't make sense to me. Like I can choose, through dialogue, that my Durge is power hungry, and very into the idea of being Astarion's pretty little lap dog. He knew what he was signing up for! And yet he looks terrified when his vampire bf (who has been feeding on him all game) bites his lip?? really?

Idk I just have some really weird feelings on some of the ways they try to Really Emphasize that u made the wrong choice for Astarion specifically, and this just exemplifies that.

Either do the rest of ur characters this service, make all of them (make every choice in the game) a moral lesson for the player to learn, where u hold their hand and say "u didn't listen to what they actually needed :c u could have done the good thing but u didn't :c"

Or let me play my evil bastard. And let me revel in it.

#ascended astarion #is the ONLY tag i will be putting this in #commiserate with me fellow evil bastards #this post is not for the rest of the fandom lmfao #is this a bad idea to post at all? probably fghjgfdghj #but unfortunately i have Opinions

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hanasnx · 2 months

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Hop hop 🐇 what's the mood today indybug? Because I'm thinking about cheating on Brian with ya. He's got a couple years on me, you know, at least 7, doesn't fucking take me seriously and he's always looking at other girls at the meets. Sometimes, when it's just me and him in a big group of his friends, he'll put his hands all over me but won't even acknowledge me when I speak, it makes me so angry I could scream. It's been happening more and more and you're my friend, I can always go to you to complain when my boyfriend's pissing me off, so I do. I even know what you'd say, you've said it before, "I don't like you with guys like that."

"yeah," I'd say, drawn out like a sigh, like I'm agreeing but it's clear I won't do a damn thing about it. So now here you are; there's a pretty girl on your couch crying about her boyfriend again, in the tiniest skirt you've ever seen, her bra peaking out from the neckline of her shirt, fat tits spilling out. It must be annoying, must be frustrating, this bitch is a tease, stupid too, the way she lets men treat her...

But at least I'm easy though, huh bug? It isn't hard to get me on my stomach, ass out while you fuck me good and hard and ask if this the attention I was looking for when I came over. "Brain just leaks outta those ears with a cock in you huh? Is it good? Yeah that dick got you fucked up, huh dons?"

"indyyyy," my voice is whiney and muffled into the cushion of the couch. "Feels so fucking good, want you deeper— ah!!." You give me a good thrust just to hear the way my sentence stops short with a moan.

"I know baby, don't fall on me, ass up c'mon. Fuck that pussy down on this dick, that's fucking right baby. Brian's not hittin' it right huh? I can tell, look how hungry this pussy is for me." Your thumb finds my pussy, rubbing against it to feel the stretch and movement of your big cock going in and out, and the way I twitch when I cum all over it.

You're sweet enough to let me cuddle up to you when we're done. Straddling your lap, arms wrapped around your neck and pressing kisses against your warm, damp skin. Your hands graze the curves of my body, squeezing the fat of my thighs, my ass my waist, and my tits press against your chest. But when I pull away and ask if I can kiss your lips, the scoff you give betrays your body language, a little mean, a little dismissive, you tell me "nah I don't kiss cheaters." It makes me blush with embarrassed but I laugh along anyway.

"you won't tell him right?" I've got gentle fingers rubbing your jaw, brushing your hair out of your face, laying it on thick and sweet now that I've got my fill of rough dick.

You laugh again and take your face outta my hands and give my ass a hard squeeze. You've got a half smile on your lips, "Yeah, yeah whatever." Knowing you mean it when you say you'll keep it a secret, i grin and kiss you on the cheek.

🐇Hop hop might have gone overboard

-donnieeeeeee

YOU FREAK. you fucking freak donnie.

"I don't like you with guys like that." ive literally told you that irl. "there's a pretty girl on your couch crying about her boyfriend again, in the tiniest skirt you've ever seen, her bra peaking out from the neckline of her shirt, fat tits spilling out" "this bitch is a tease, stupid too, the way she lets men treat her..." can you shut the fuck up. oh mygod. the fat tits bit.. you know just what i like donnie. calling yourself stupid <3 thats my fucking sweet spot. i just hate the way you let men treat you, i can treat you so much worse

im finding myself quoting whole paragraphs like this one: "But at least I'm easy though, huh bug? It isn't hard to get me on my stomach, ass out while you fuck me good and hard and ask if this the attention I was looking for when I came over. "Brain just leaks outta those ears with a cock in you huh? Is it good? Yeah that dick got you fucked up, huh dons?"" because its that good and i cant pick out individual lines. the use of dons especially bcos thats one of my fave nicknames i call you

""I know baby, don't fall on me, ass up c'mon. Fuck that pussy down on this dick, that's fucking right baby. Brian's not hittin' it right huh? I can tell, look how hungry this pussy is for me."" this dialogue piece sounds just fucking like me man we talk way too damn much. this couldve come right out of my own brain

the bit about the kiss, about how i dont kiss cheaters, taking my face outta your hands and grab your ass, "yea yea whatever" oh donnie you killed this

#indy shoots the shit #thanks for the msg!!#moot: donnie #tw infidelity #ch: hanasnx #indy: drabble #hanasnx drabble #indy x reader #indy x reader smut #indy x fem reader #indy x you #indy imagine #hanasnx x reader #hanasnx x reader smut #hanasnx x fem reader #hanasnx x you #hanasnx imagine

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burningvelvet · 2 months

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on percy shelley & human connection & coping through art

to set the mood of this post i must say i'm writing it really quickly on my phone over a bowl of pasta with bread & broccoli & some orange flavored sparkling water & im still dressed in my outdoor wintery clothes (all black, knee boots, wool, silver chains & rings, although i mostly prefer gold jewelry).

so anyway today i've been kind of sad over ppl not replying to my texts & my usual reaction is to say "ok, guess i'll kms, wah wah, cry cry" but this sort of passively cynical joking schtick has gotten old & i would rather occupy myself some other way instead of moping about failed connections or the difficulty of initiating contact with anyone or the struggles of modern socialization as a whole.

instead, i will read the works of percy shelley tonight, and think about how he struggled with all of this over 200 yrs ago. of how hard he struggled to make leigh hunt and lord byron collaborate with him on their journal the liberal, and how he struggled all his life to build a positive community even in spite of years of bullying, ostracization, and family strife - he often felt like giving up, and like human connection was impossible, but he never gave in to apathy and instead he continuously curated his ideal life by seeking out other like-minded people, even when he occasionally embarrassed himself in public or when others were decidely averse to him or lukewarm in their reception. john keats didn't entirely take to him when they met and some of keats' friends straight-up disliked percy for being weird, but percy (though scarcely knowing him) loved keats as a brother-poet nonetheless, was generous to him, wrote one of his masterpieces in his favor, and died with a copy of his poems in his pocket.

percy always reached out to others and was a loyal friend even when others disrespected him or ignored him or just simply didnt love him as much as he did them. his letters to lord byron show how reverent he was to his friend, and how his affection was never returned in quite the same gusto, but, while still trying to keep his self-respect, percy quelled his frustrations and continued his correspondence with byron regardless. percy acted as the mediator between byron and claire even when his stress was so high it weighed heavily on his health. he actively tried to choose to be positive even when the people around him were negative or miserable. like most writers back then, he sent his writing to his idols, and sought mentorship from people he admired, like william godwin and leigh hunt, and he continued to respect them even when they took advantage of him financially (moreso in godwin's case).

anyway what i mean to say is that whenever im feeling lonely or rejected or alienated or socially stupid or am just second-guessing my role in society or whatever whatever whatever, i cling to creativity/art/literature/etc. even harder than i regularly do, because thats what it exists for.

i knew a therapist (not one i saw as a patient, but someone i knew through mutual interests in media/the arts) who said that a certain musical performance we both loved probably saved way more lives than any single therapist ever has. - the performance in question was david bowie's tokyo 1990 live recording of rock n roll suicide, an anti-suicide song (its available on youtube, go watch it lol, he performs it with so much conviction).

any way even though at the end of his life shelley sometimes felt like he was failing to achieve his dream of building a utopian art commune - he actually did succeed in introducing several people to each other in ways that changed peoples lives. his friends jane williams and thomas jefferson hogg got married only through his mutual friendship. whole literary societies have been started in his honor - to this day there are conferences & whatnot that meet annually - his life & writing continues to inspire people and bring them comfort - & he would be extremely proud of that - any artist would. the main goal of any famous dead writer is basically to become the imaginary friend of their future readers & he accomplished that - even though all the time he was wracked with doubt/depression/suicidality/illness/chronic pain, etc. - as a political/philosophical radical, he realized that having hope is one of the most influential & radical things one can do - & i'm glad that, even though this is a person who died over 200 yrs ago, there is at least one person who really resonates with me - even though we're from different centuries, different continents, different sexes, etc. - it's helpful to have positive influences to look up to, especially when they've also struggled in similar ways as you. and although shelley was pretty privileged (rich englishman) he really did struggle a lot mentally & physically - his life was a chaotic mess - and he wasn't perfect at all - but i think he's still inspirational for my previously mentioned reasons - his ceaseless hope. the last poem he was working on was titled the triumph of life, even though he wrote it during a deep depression. the last poem he published in his lifetime was hellas, which he hoped would raise money for the cause of greek war of independence. from the poem:

"Life may change, but it may fly not;

Hope may vanish, but can die not;

Truth be veiled, but still it burneth;

Love repulsed, — but it returneth!"

#percy bysshe shelley #percy shelley #me #?#ramblings #my writing #art #literature #socializing #thoughts #hopepunk #that was shelley #tw suicide mention #opinions #essays #poetry #social anxiety

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sisterofficerlucychen · 6 days

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sometimes i get so emotional over the rookie that i sob a little bit because of how much this little show of ours means to me like i know it can be a little silly but it's been my comfort for the past two years. which is also so interesting because it's a procedural dramedy and it shouldn't be that deep but it is? the stories and characters created in this universe are that deep.

i've always fallen down the rabbit hold of so many different shows but i don't think any have even come to the level of what this show means to me. i think it's the first time where i really see myself in more than one character and in more than one way: it's the representation of seeing someone who looks like me, has similar traits (good and bad) as i do, and shares a similar background that i can relate to and empathize with.

they're characters whose stories i'm so invested in and ones i'm rooting for. they make me laugh, cry, frustrate me, but at the end of the day i'm so happy and thankful for them and to be able to experience their journey. i look up to them — in times where i feel stuck or confused, i think about what they would do. i admire them and their strengths that despite being fictional they still push me to do and try better because that's the influence they have.

when i think of their journey, it's so cool to see where they started to where they're at, also where they're headed. it's amazing to be able to see such character development and growth but also how raw and real they are because they're human and they're going to make mistakes. the beauty is seeing them get up and try again as they continue to grow and heal.

i also think of what they've brought me outside of the world inside the show. they've brought me here to this incredible fandom where i've been so lucky to meet such amazing people and share the love and excitement for the show and its characters. i love spiraling with everyone on tuesday's (and then the rest of the week until we get a new episode) lol. being able to freakout about different storylines, speculate about what may happen based off different hints and sneak peeks, and celebrate everyone's amazing talents and what they share with the rest of us

♡ i'm so grateful for this show, the cast/crew, everyone i've met so far because of it, and hopefully those i've yet to connect with over it ♡

#the rookie #*brb it's not even 10am yet and i'm crying over the rookie*

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foundry-fabrications · 1 year

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Happy Halloween everyone! It's that time of the year again and that means it's spooky project time! Those who have been with me for a while know that every year for Halloween I put out some big thematic project for my favorite holiday. For this year, I wanted to keep the rework train going and rework a previous year's project. And that project is my Corpseweaver class!

Before we get started I just want to take a second to shout-out @dm-clockwork-dragon and his Necroficer class, which helped inspire many aspects of my own take on the "Frankenstein-ing" monsters together concept.

I also want to mention that I still have a huge GDrive folder of 100+ creepy creatures and malign monsters pulled from across the internet to inspire your own amalgams!

In a way I got lucky this year. I started reworking my corpseweaver MONTHS ago so I already had a lot of it done. I was hoping to have the basics done in time for a campaign I was going to be in but time got away from me and I ended up playing something else so I've just been slowly working on it over time. Before October even began the entire base class and one of the subclasses were mechanically done, which left only two more subclasses to finish and I needed to rewrite all the fluff text which was honestly pretty cringeworthy in my opinion.

So what are all the changes? IT'S A LOT! I reworked how the class collects resources and the amalgam creation system completely from the ground up. The old systems were overly complicated and REALLY bookkeepy so I simplified them. Now you get Flesh, Bone, and Exotic from creatures and you use those in specified amounts to make amalgams and make alterations. The system for doing so has been greatly streamlined. Now you have a dedicated stat block that all amalgams are based on and that gets modified throughout the creation process.

Another major change is that the base class is no longer a spellcaster, so all those features have been moved to a subclass of their own, the Skaab Scribe. I didn't like how based in normal magic the old class was as I always wanted it to be more focused on mad science, alchemical formulas, and occult ritual.

And one of the last huge changes is that the Soma Smith has been removed from the class completely and will likely never return, though the name does live on as the Fleshwarper has been renamed. As much as I liked the idea of the old soma smith, I felt that it didn't fit the class upon further examination. Its whole deal was about creating new life basically from scratch and that's not what I want this class to be about. That's actually a theme that I kept seeing in the flavor text throughout the class as I've been working on it, creating new life, and it's a goal of mine to remove it wherever possible. The class does not create life, it reanimates the dead, and in my mind those are very different things.

So yeah, on that note those are the biggest changes but obviously everything got touched in some way. As with many of my reworks, this one is an overhaul on a grand scale, and one I'm honestly quite proud of.

As for the updated aesthetics, however, I have mixed feelings. Overall I think they fit the class much better than the default theme I was using before but there's a lot of visual jank that I'm not a fan of. I also would have liked to use better artwork but I had so little time to finish this as it is. I was also forced into using GM Binder for this project instead of Homebrewery because the theme I chose doesn't work with HB very well so that was less than ideal. For smaller projects it's not a big deal but for something this huge all the weird little issues I have with GMB start to compound and get frustrating. It's not a system I like but it has its uses sometimes.

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masterskywalkers · 4 months

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So I'm reading that new Larian interview for BG3, which has really popped up at a great time for me research-wise, and I see this for Ascended Astarion:

"So with Astarion, his evil ending is actually him…much of what he does is out of fear. And as a player, you can say to him, "You're right to be afraid." And that sends him to a really horrible place, and that I think is really powerful."

Now I've been doing a lot of research into vampires and vampire spawn in literature & D&D mechanics lately - partly for fic ideas, partly because this fandom frustrates me to no end sometimes with some of the things I read and I kind of want to do a breakdown on my own view and interpretation on the character - and this quote is very much something I agree with.

From Act 1 Astarion acts mainly upon fear and survival. He is not a good person, and he will do anything to survive. He literally uses any weapons or tools he has to build a net of safety within the group or with Tav, regardless of whether his methods are healthy for him or not. He knows no other way, because for the past two hundred years at least, he has known nothing but cruelty.

Even as you move further and further into the game, Astarion doesn't stop being afraid. As a Bhaalspawn who romances him but fails to kill Isobel, Sceleritas will comment that 'he is so afraid, so very afraid of everything, but you. The one thing he should fear the most'. In Act 3 after the other spawn attack the party, if a romanced Tav argues with him about the Ascension ritual, there's a response where Astarion will say 'I'm doing this for both of us, you know? To keep us both safe'.

Astarion is fueled by fear, and he believes that power is a way to ensure he won't ever have to fear anything again. That he won't have to be weak anymore (he sees himself as weak, ignoring the utter strength he has to even be able to survive the amount of torture and abuse he's lived through for so many years). During the decision of whether to allow him to Ascend or not, it takes an intervention from the person he trusts the most to even attempt to talk him down - and even that option is a journey of dice rolls and making the correct choices.

Astarion follows in the footsteps of the playstyle and the behaviors of the player character. He values his freedom and independence, but he doesn't know how to live without fear because, as far as he remembers, fear has been his entire existence. Even if you don't let him ascend, when you ask him how he feels about freedom he says it's both terrifying and exhilarating - it's a new kind of fear for him, the fear of a vast future open for him, one that isn't ruled beneath the hand of someone who controlled him.

In either ending - bad or good - Astarion gains and loses something. In a good ending, he gains freedom and the chance to start anew - to a limit, as he looses the ability to walk in the sun. In a bad ending, he gains security, safety and power - but loses himself in the process:

"Whether or not a vampire retains any memories from its former life, its emotional attachments wither as once-pure feelings become twisted by undeath. Love turns into hungry obsession, while friendship becomes bitter jealousy. In place of emotion, vampires pursue physical symbols of what they crave, so that a vampire seeking love might fixate on a young beauty. A child might become an object of fascination for a vampire obsessed with youth and potential. Others surround themselves with art, books, or sinister items such as torture devices or trophies from creatures they have killed." - Players Handbook, 5e

^ This is something that really interests me, because how much of that extends to the Vampire Ascendent is up to the player. I have my own thoughts for what this means for a romanced Astarion - and maybe I'll write something about that at some point, or post my thoughts in more detail later if anyone is interested - but the fact that the Vampire Ascendent is different from a normal vampire due to it being born from a deal made with a devil, I think, gives enough creative leeway for writers and players to play around with how they interpret to fit with their own playstyle.

Astarion, throughout the game, is at the very beginning of a long journey of being a survivor of abuse and trauma. I don't think he's really able to process or work on recovery until Cazador is dead - he is the looming threat for Astarion, after all, the shadow that is always there. Because even if they defeat the Netherbrain but don't defeat Cazador, Astarion is still at huge risk of becoming his toy again - but how he chooses to work through that and learn to handle his fear, depends on the person he becomes throughout the journey. And the player character is a huge influence to this - for better or for worse.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #this is by no means a 'ascended or spawn version is better than' discussion #i respect both options and know people have their preferences #but astarion's actions are ruled by fear? hell yes 100% i agree #he is a ball of fear and pain and resentment. and why wouldn't he be?

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littlestarlost · 1 year

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Yellowjackets is a show about trauma. I don't know what else to tell you.

Alright, blood hive, here we go again.

We're about halfway through season 2 at this point, and I remain more convinced than ever that a large portion of the viewing public is not fundamentally listening to what the wilderness the showrunners are trying to say. If you're looking for a singular capital-R Reason for everything we see in the show, you're looking at the wrong stuff. So here are some more thoughts.

(Spoilers for all of Yellowjackets up to S2E5, "Two Truths and a Lie")

One: Yellowjackets is a show about trauma and its relationship to magical thinking.

I get another grey hair every time I see someone trying to puzzle out just what is in the woods.

There's nothing in the woods, y'all. Nothing. Until I'm proven wrong by the show itself, this is the hill I will stubbornly die on. But show has been EXTREMELY consistent this whole time in its ambiguity, and in my opinion anyone using the red string and thumbtacks approach to Yellowjackets is being played for a fool. It doesn’t matter if there’s actually an entity in the woods (there isn’t), or if Lottie actually has powers (she doesn’t); what matters is that the survivors are clinging to any answers they can grasp in a situation full of unknowns, and so are we. Part of what’s so devastating about their plight is that there’s no real reason for any of it. This is the basis for literally every religion humans have ever had; we’ve been grasping at ritual and magical thinking for millennia. We are observing the growth of that dependence and ritual right now, in the second season. We are also seeing the consequences of that situation in the future. We are seeing how the power of thought can provide both comfort and further trauma.

I suspect that we will never learn the meaning behind the mysterious symbol. I've seen theories that it's a witch's mark, or even that it's a miner's signal and that all the weird stuff happening to the Yellowjackets is the result of mercury poisoning because they're inadvertently on top of an old mine. That's a nice theory, but I don't think it's correct, and I also don't think it should be revealed anyway. It doesn't ultimately matter what the symbol meant to the dead guy or his cabin; what matters is what the symbol represents for the Yellowjackets themselves.

Two: Yellowjackets is a show about trauma and the way it twists the unknown.

I am fascinated but frustrated by the apparent age split with fans. It seems to me that there's a pretty good-sized gap between the older fans of the show, who would have been kids/teenagers in the 90s (including me), and the gen Z viewers, the latter of which seem unable to really really understand just how wild the wilderness is. The generational split here is with those who remember how VCRs work because we had them and those who have never needed to know. It's a split between we who went through our primary school years without access to Wikipedia and those who have had the wealth of human knowledge in their pockets since they were children.

I’ve watched people do all sorts of questioning and speculating, and it almost always traces back to whether or not you understand how the world worked before smartphones, AKA most of human history. Let me answer some of those questions right now off the top of my head:

How could the Yellowjackets not be found for 19 months?

People used to just fucking vanish, fam. We did not have GPS, we did not have trackers, we barely had battery-powered walkmen. People vanished all the time, and were never ever seen again. Sometimes they did it on purpose, and a lot of the time they disappeared by accident or malice, and a lot of times they died. 1996 doesn't seem that long ago in terms of technology, but it is. People still go missing to this day, even with all our tech tracking us everywhere. Canada is fucking huge and a lot of it is mostly wilderness. Here's a photo I found from Statistics Canada with the population density of Ontario; the black areas represent places where there's basically goddamn nothing but wilderness.

2. How was there no road to the Cabin Guy's Cabin? How did he get there? How did he get supplies there?

He had a plane, and also, once again: people used to disappear all the time. In his case, he seems to have done it on purpose.

3. How could Shauna possibly deliver a child in those conditions? How could the baby be getting the nutrients it needs?

People did this successfully for tens of thousands of years, you guys. You're literally reading this post because our ancestors successfully birthed children in the middle of fucking nowhere with zero medical aid or support.

4. How could Lottie know about the bear or the starlings or or or...?

Easy: she doesn't. Not entirely, anyway. She's an empathetic person who's really good at dealing with the emotions of other people and has a sense of spirituality that appears brave and confident, and people in dire situations with a lot of chaos will depend on that with their lives.

And speaking of Lottie...

Three: Yellowjackets is a show about trauma and how it forces you to transform.

At the end of last season I believed that we were going to get a Lottie Villain Era, just like everyone else. I do not believe that now.

Everything we have seen of Lottie shows a girl who was subjected to medical abuse and/or neglect from a very very young age. Regardless of her actual powers or lack thereof, she was placed on medication by her parents and didn't come off of it until she was in a super traumatizing situation in the wilderness. During this most recent season, we have seen both Teenage and Adult Lottie struggle with her role as a spiritual leader and advisor; she's good at it, but it drains her. It isn't something she's doing out of a desire for power or control: it's something she's doing as a trauma response. That trauma response is helping others, so she keeps doing it, but it's still a trauma response. Trauma transforms you into somebody new, over and over again. The scars you bear become your armor, and then your mask, and then it's hard to know where you end and the trauma begins.

Taissa, too, is transformed by trauma. Her other self is a trauma response, similar to alters in a DID system. It comes to the front when Taissa can't deal, and it's both helpful and harmful. I'm willing to bet a lot of her college years were spent sleepwalking, as the Other One dealt with exams and soccer games and law school. Any one of us with dissociative trauma responses can speak to the way that dissociation can be a savior and an abuser in the same breath.

Four: Yellowjackets is a show about trauma and how it compounds on itself.

This most recent episode showed Natalie coming to a realization about the last time she saw Travis, and she says the words we've heard in the season trailers: there was something in the woods, something they brought back with them. Or maybe it was in them the whole time.

In my previous essay I talked about how each Yellowjacket arrived in the woods with her own traumas strapped to her back. In my mind, that's what Natalie is talking about. There is no entity in the woods to blame for all of this, no ghost or witch who can be credited with the trauma the girls experienced and inflicted. There is only the trauma itself, in all its many shapes and sizes, in all the ways it fills in the gaps and makes shadows dance by firelight and drives us to the very brink of madness, holding us back by a fraying tether.

Yellowjackets is a show about trauma. The show's theme song rings out every episode: No return, no return, no reason. There is no return to the way things were. There is no return that can erase what you've been through. There is no reason for all of this, except for the one that's been very explicitly outlined via themes and story and dialogue and flashbacks and framing.

Yellowjackets is a show about trauma. It's the only answer we have, and I suspect--and hope--that it's the only answer we're ever going to get.

#yellowjackets

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theneighborhoodwatch · 1 year

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ramble about wally & home's codependent swag. do it. you know you want to /lh

sorry for sitting so long on this one, anon. it's good to let thoughts Ferment sometimes. anyway - [pulls up a chair to sit down on it backwards, facing you]

so, the way i see it: it all comes back to home, yeah? home is not just the house - home is also the name of the town, it is very likely the town itself, and that town may be (as far as we know) the entire world. the very Concept of the home been discussed by clown as a central theme of welcome home a few times on his blog. when i say that home is everything, i do mean everything, and i don't think there's anyone for whom that rings more true than wally.

i know i link back to my older posts a lot, but i swear this one is relevant bc i wanna elaborate on a point that i make in the first half of it: the way i see it (as of the time of this writing) home, in all senses of the word, is wally's top priority. which is not to say that his devotion towards home supersedes everything else, but that everything else sort of feeds back into it by design. the neighbors? they are there to inhabit home. we, the audience? we are there to perceive home and round out its population. the WHRP*? they said it themselves - they're there to make that fucking house a home. home is everything, and in turn, everything is for the sake of preserving home. wally cares for his neighbors, and he cares for Us, but would either of those still be the case if there was no home to preserve? i'm not sure.

there is a catch to this, though. of course there is. wally's identity already seems tied pretty heavily to other people; he learns from his neighbors, and he does so on the audience's behalf. given everything i've written in the above paragraph, this can arguably be an extension of his devotion to home, however genuine those relationships may be in their own right. in other words, home (more specifically the restoration/preservation of home) is not only wally's chief motivation, but as far as he's concerned, the reason he exists at all. i think a lot about these tags that @pretty-in-possible (hope you don't mind the tag) left on a post of mine describing their image of wally:

and i had something very similar in mind. if wally's goal truly is the restoration/preservation of home - in this context, his raison d'être, the basis for his entire sense of self - then i can imagine why he would be willing to follow his original role as closely as he could even 50 years after the end of the original show. i can imagine that outgrowing that role in any capacity would feel like a sin. i can imagine that watching his friends outgrow theirs, or at least express a desire to do so, would seem extremely reckless to him, if not an outright betrayal.

("wait," you might say. "doesn't tampering with the site technically count as him adapting/evolving past his original role as audience surrogate?" "yes 8]" i would say. i would not elaborate, and then we would move on.)

i've mostly been talking about wally's side of things, and the reason for that is mostly that wally is just easier to speculate about. home is such a mystery that some people aren't even sure if they're the same being that was on the original show; i've seen people posit that whatever home is now, it is Not what they were originally, either that they're undead or that they've since become a husk for Something Else to inhabit, or some third thing i'm forgetting. either way, i think it's interesting that as attached as wally is to home, even he doesn't seem to be able to assess whatever their needs are with 100% accuracy - if the duet audio is to be believed, there's at least Some guesswork involved. who's to say that wally isn't just hearing what he wants to hear, at least some of the time?

i wonder - how does home feel about being an Embodiment, not of just the town, but of the very word "home?" are they frustrated with the fact that even wally, their own inhabitant, can never fully understand them, and has become resentful? do they appreciate the effort regardless, but feel a growing impatience gnawing at them day by day? are they apathetic at best towards wally, but need him to fulfill some goal or another, since they're an inanimate building? either way, i can't help but feel that home also relies on wally in some way; perhaps not as heavily as he relies on them, perhaps not in the same way or for the same reasons. but there is something Mutual there, i think.

tl;dr: these two are hurtling towards disaster and i, for one, cannot wait to see every last bit of it. here are two songs that remind me of them every time i hear them, the realization of which is often accompanied by guttural wailing.

* wally doesn't seem to have any strong feelings towards the WHRP team outside of maybe sharing the same motivation as them (i.e. restoration) but this may be because he's either hiding from them and also doesn't seem like the kind of guy to Express negative emotions, or he because he is the WHRP team - we'll see how things shake out.

#anonymous #ask #welcome home #wh speculation #wally darling #home #finally. it's been a while since i've been publicly unwell on this blog

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thearvariblues · 9 months

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Oh, hey, look, it's another Biu-scandal post.

I've been considering and getting ready to write it for a few days now, but so far my words are kinda refusing to word. I decided I would still try, though, because I feel like I need to formulate the thoughts that have been running through my head for the past week.

Just as the last time, if my opinions make you uncomfortable, please feel free to block me and send me hateful anons, it's always a delight! 💙

First things first - yes, I still support Build. Yes, even a week later. No, I have not changed my mind. No, I'm not planning to. No matter his misdemeanors.

So you are IGNORING–

No. I'm not. I am aware of the fact that the things he allegedly said are what we consider shitty, but that doesn't change my opinion of him. At all.

Well I hope you have a REALLY GOOD REASON–

Yes, I have several, thank you for asking!

Reason one - I simply don't require my faves to be morally superior and clean as a freshly fallen snow. He is human. Humans make mistakes. Humans get frustrated and say stupid shit about their friends to another friends, humans talk shit about their job, humans make stupid jokes, humans are simply human. I don't mind finding out that a man I admire has made mistakes because.... I just don't. Sue me. (Please don't. As opposed to Ms. Ombre Pink, I do not have money to pay.)

Reason two - I refuse to judge the level of his shittiness, his homophobia and everything else he's being accused of based on a few out-of-context texts translated by antis who don't even try to make it a secret that they will not stop their bullshit until he either leaves public life, or (preferably) dies by his own hand. Listen, kids, I'm a translator myself, and trust me, I can completely change the meaning of a sentence while technically staying true to it in its bare essence. I can take a vaguely bitchy statement and make you into a monster without breaking a sweat. So excuse me if I don't trust people who are actively trying to destroy him to deliver the most truthful and accurate translations.

Reason three - I won't do anyone's dirty work for them. I have a brain. And I even use it from time to time. (Yayyyyy!) And it just seems... kinda weird that the very moment when Build gets back on his feet, mysterious twitter accounts start popping up and throwing accusations at him until they find something that sticks. They started with private photos, because apparently getting evidence of his relationship with Ombre Pink can turn the fans against him! (Spoiler alert - it did not.) Then they followed up with accusations of him throwing away the remnants of money bouquets - from a year ago, which raises its own questions about for how long has this mysterious person been planning on taking him down. (I'm saying mysterious person, as if we don't know her name starts with P and ends with I, with only one letter in between.) Anyway, this didn't work either, because apparently the fans are okay with him not keeping the wrapping of the gifts they give him. Who would have guessed! Well, the first attempts didn't work, so now we have a new scandal, using the big guns in the form of Bible and Apo's names! That's sure gonna work! And it does. But not on me. Like I said. Sometimes I tend to use my brain. What a shame.

Reason four (but maybe more of a reason 3B) - no matter who is exposing his "crimes", it's very clear to me that this person isn't doing it for our benefit. They don't want to expose Biu as a despicable monster because they don't want the fans to live in a lie or whatever. They are doing it with a very clear and open goal to destroy Build Jakapan. And I will not support that.

Reason five - presumably, all those alleged texts (don't forget that Ombre Pink has forged text conversations before) are from before the breakup, and also presumably from before the famous Phuket trip (and in case you don't know, in the leaked phone call from January, she accuses him of changing after that trip). Now, have you ever met a person who made you change your behavior without even realizing it? I have. Seriously, I know that spending too much time with certain friends makes me a worse person than I usually am. Hell, my mother is a terribly hateful person, and I always have to be careful around her because let me tell you, that hate spreads like a goddamn forest fire. What does this have to do with Build? Oh, nothing. Just a fact that Poi is clearly an extremely hateful, homophobic bitch who hates... you've guessed it, Bible and Apo. Let it sit for a moment.

Reason six - you know what, I think that's been enough reasons, I'm tired of that shit.

My point is this. In the essence, this whole thing is and should have stayed a private matter. It was an ugly, messy breakup after a shitty, clearly abusive relationship.

Listen, it's not coincidence that so many people who have had to deal with a narcissist abuser in their lives took a single look at Poi's behavior (no matter if it was back in January or later on) and went "wait... I know this shit". When you've been through it, you know. Trust me. You know. And it makes you sick in your stomach.

This is, and always has been, a private battle between a man and a woman.

On one side, we have Build, who might have made mistakes, but none of his mistakes are worth being cancelled for. Ever since this whole thing started back in January, he's been staying calm and collected, and he didn't talk shit about his crazy ex even when it could have helped him. Has he leaked their private call and some texts? Yes, but clearly only to clear his name. If you want to hate him for what he's "done", fine. Don't engage with his content. But let us morally fallen monsters enjoy it and support him in peace.

Because remember that on the other side, we have a woman who is openly homophobic (and if you don't see her "he cheated on me, oh god, do I have to get tested for AIDS?!" comment as homophobic, then I really have no words), has been proven to lie and forge evidence on multiple occasions (and had to confess to it) and has used twitter to spill secrets about her ex under the guise of "writing a story" (including, possibly, outing him as bisexual, since her "definitely not inspired by Build" character was bi) and scream at and blackmail him. We also know that as Daemi, she and Yok were being shit to multiple KinnPorsche actors, and they forced Barcode, a minor, to give them massages, claiming that's just a standard in the industry (and then proceeded to make fun of it to a point when Jeff fucking Satur felt the need to step up and say in a livestream that no, it's not a standard, you don't have to do those things, Barcode, you know).

Look. I'm not saying that because she's worse, it makes him an angel. It does not. Like I said, if you hate Build, feel free to, but don't hate on people who still choose to support him. Ignore him, and ignore us. Trust me, we don't want to argue with you all the fucking time.

I'm just begging you to think before you start spreading hate on Biu on the social media. Think who you're serving. Thing whose dirty work you're doing.

And then ask yourself if you are really the morally pure angels if you wish death upon one man and all his supporters because of a few stupid texts.

That's all. Thank you for your attention.

And if you still support Build, remember that I love you all, and you're not alone. 💙

#build jakapan

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kanguin · 1 month

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On my way to work today, I spent some time reflecting on my experience with autism growing up after listening to a video talking about neurodivergence in general. And it really hit me just how frustrated I am with the limitations that are placed upon me with autism. While my stunted social capabilities is frustrating in its own right, the thing that makes me feel the most helpless and aimless is my flat affect and muted emotional spectrum. I used to think that I'm just not really very emotionally impacted by things that happen to me, but in reality I feel the feelings, but just, cannot express them in a way that I or others understand. And because some feelings like fear, anger, sadness, and joy, are self-feeding emotions that react to your own expression of them, the fact that I often don't express an emotion or am even aware it is affecting me until I assess the symptoms afterwards, means that my emotional reactions rarely "bloom" for lack of a better word. This also means that a lot of my emotional reactions to things that happen to me go completely unnoticed by myself and others around me, meaning my emotional needs often go by the wayside and get buried as more things happen. I should point out this does apply to all emotions; I've been questioned on my level of interest in the past when the idea of going to Disney World was discussed as a kid, despite the fact that heck yeah I was excited! But it came out as "Yeah I'd love to!" in a flat pleasant voice that reads to allistics as meager enthusiasm.

My emotions do get loud and pronounced sometimes, but I've found usually only when overwhelmed, or when the circumstances are JUST right for me to express Big Joy (genuine excitement). Hell I still to this day have trouble relating to people defined by big emotions. Anger is one I definitely struggle to relate to, because it's a lot easier to keep a cap on your anger when you don't always notice frustration at first, so things rarely have a chance to boil because the fire isn't fed. Even for things I really SHOULD get angry about, I get mildly indignant or frustrated, and I sometimes feel like voicing my frustrations then make me sound impotent and pathetic. Probably because I was bullied in a way where people tried getting a rise out of me to see my reaction, but yeah. People who explode with righteous fury scare the living daylights out of me, even though I know they're right. It's just so alien, to me. I honestly feel weak-willed sometimes, and get frustrated with the fact that I don't pursue my interests or dreams with any more than moderate passion. I'm pretty sure if I put my mind to it I could gather my finances, find the right, well paying job, and move out within a year, but because my mental disress at being confined to my mother's home simmers barely above lukewarm until it errupts so big that I can't think clearly, before going back to tepid… I just make no progress.

The fact that it took me so long to realize that I'm not cis, and then when I realized that, it took me so many years to accept that I wasn't just "neutral" but wanted to start HRT and wanted to be outwardly perceived as a girl, is all entirely due to how muted my experience of my emotions is. I've debated for a while on whether or not I experience dysphoria about my appearance, and I've come to the conclusion "yeah, I do and I have for a long time going back to early high school". It's kind of obvious in retrospect that not wanting to dress out around boys and starting to prefer to wear a swim shirt with the convenient excuse of being pale/fat, were forms of not wanting to be perceived by others for how my body was. It's so painfully obvious now that the disress that my voice dropping brought me was not just because it was sudden, but because it was dysphoric, not me. But it took so long to even realize that because my emotions are so muted that extreme discomfort is hard to tell apart from mild discomfort unless analyzed in retrospect.

The school psychologist for the early college entrance program I attended my junior year of high school once told me that the thing that sets me apart from my peers is that while most of them had strong dissatisfactions with their life as it was, I was just extraordinarily content with whatever life gave me. And for years, I believed that, becasue yeah, I generally just accept whatever happens to me without much fuss, I don't fight for anything, even if I want it. But hindsight has proven her so, so very wrong about that. And I don't really blame her, she was making the best of what I presented with her and the accounts I gave. I didn't have an official diagnosis of Autism or anything so there was nothing really signalling that my mild, placid demeanor was the combined effort of severely stunted emotional expression and complexity and the early signs of depression. So now I just have to look back, and wonder how differently I would have developed as a kid were my convictions just a little stronger, were my emotions just a little louder. It's not much use looking back and wondering, but it's hard not to when you feel that a defect in your brain has basically held you back from achieving what you want for most of your life.

I'm extremely thankful to the friends I have in my life today. I've learned so much about recognizing my own emotions and my emotional needs from people around me that care so deeply for me. I don't talk to my friends as much as I should, but the past week I've been putting in a concerted effort to talk more, about anything. Just more time with these people who mean so much to me but I give so little of myself to. And I haven't gotten to prioritizing all of the people I consider the most important to me just yet; I have about two or three friends I still want to make sure I set aside time and energy for, but I'll get there in time. My mental health hasn't been great for a long while, for a combined number of reasons, but I want so badly to have quality time with my favorite people, and I think it's finally spurring me into doing something about it. I can only hope that from here on I get better at recognizing the things I want, need, and feel on a daily basis, and not just write everything off as being mildly interested.

#kanguin original #autism #neurodivergent #autism spectrum disorder #trans

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trauma-and-truffles · 15 days

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who is your assistant exactly? Is she dead like you and the others? How did you two meet?

I apologize for such a late response, anon, but I have been waiting for the right time so Mlle. Hopster will not interject in the response. I can't believe shes still crying over that plant.

But please note that this will leave more questions than answers. As I do not have many answers to your questions.

From what I know, every soul gets their own little space. Their own 'world' you could say. Sometimes they bleed into the real world; the space my assistant lives in. This means she can easily pop into my 'world' and I can do the same with hers. Kind of like some kind of ghost.

That being said, yes, shes very much alive. Unlike me.

When I died, it appears a piece of my being attached to something. I barely remember what I'm attached to anymore, especially after nearly two centuries. All I know is that she purchased something at an estate sale, and I am attached to one of those items.

This leads to where we met. To preface this, I can feel environment changes. Again, I've tried to find an explanation, but even I can't find it. I digress- she saw me when I had come out to see what was happening, as it was the first time my environment changed in almost 40 years. It was odd. I've never had this happen to me before, and neither did she. It led to a rather rough introduction, and we didn't speak for 3 months. I just kept to my little space. She started pestering me to talk after that period, and I eventually gave in.

I can safely say that we're friends. I rarely go into the what she calls the 'living world,' but she comes often into mine just to catch a break from her life.

From the looks of it, this doesn't happen very often. I'm not even sure if this is a similar situation as @chicksncash and @your-staff-wizard with their ADC, Mme DuQuay.

Either way- I enjoy Mlle. Hopster's presence. Its refreshing to have someone like her around, to be honest. She may frustrate me from time to time, but she's helpful, and gives me some companionship in this lonely afterlife. even if it is for only a short time.

-Larrey

P.S: It was her idea for me to call her my assistant. She seems to like the title. Although, she seems fond of me to begin with.

#((im adding some lore!))#((his assistant does need a reason to be around lol))#((you just had given me a good opportunity anon))#((thanks for that))#responses from the baron #anon

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my-mt-heart · 3 months

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I've been rewatching all of the deleted Caryl scenes and I was wondering if you could explain why important Caryl scenes were cut in post-production? Why would you cut scenes where we can see character development? Why cut scenes that deepen Caryl's bond? I don't get it.

Generally speaking, scenes can get cut for a multitude of reasons. Sometimes the showrunner/EP(s) don't know if something is going to tie in well with the story until they see it cut together. Often, they also have to cut for time. But I don't think a lot of people realize that it isn't just one person, the showrunner for example, making every final decision. There may be multiple EPs with creative control who don't see eye to eye, and then there's the studio at the very top of the hierarchy which will have its mandates.

TWDU in particular seems to suffer from having "too many cooks" and its allowed some of them to downplay Caryl's relationship without having any real creative or business reasons to do so. It's incredibly frustrating because it undermines the story that was already unfolding, the one so many fans became invested in. We want the relationship to be honored, explored as deeply as possible and established as romantic, which means we need to see the connective tissue. We need the explicit beats to show Caryl's growth, not vague dialogue suggesting a story happened offscreen or ambiguous shots we have to dig and dig to find our own meaning to.

You mention rewatching deleted Caryl scenes, presumably from earlier seasons of the flagship, but it's also unnerving, if not more so, to think about what was edited out of S11 that could've made all the difference to the fans who waited years for explicit canon.

And what does that mean for "The Book of Carol?" As an EP, Melissa will get to weigh in on the cuts, but the way that it works (with a non-writing EP having to give notes to the showrunner and producing director who can address the notes or not before the next cut goes to the studio), makes it far too easy for the same people who wronged Carol and Caryl in S11 to do so again. She's also the only woman in a position of power while all of the directors for the season, the other EPs with creative control, and the AMC execs share a (mostly white) male perspective, so there's the added concern of being seen as "difficult to work with" whenever the need to push hard for something important to her and the fans arises. I bring this up not to suggest that Caryl fans should lower their expectations (they definitely should not do that), but as a reminder to keep being vocal about making Caryl explicitly canon and whatever else they want to see. I sincerely hope AMC will take the right measures to bolster Carol's and Caryl's story in post. If anything gets manipulated again, the best they can hope for is mixed reactions, just like the "I love you" scene in S11's finale.

#caryl #carol peletier #twd caryl #the book of carol #melissa mcbride #darylneedscarol

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