#nothing explicitly triggering in here but big feelings

[fandomsoda]

Heart, Soul (light vent poem)

A loud voice does not always conceal a loud heart. An angry voice does not mean an angry soul. A twisting, spiraling mind does not mean an unstable person.

Passion is bred from care and conviction. Something that provokes so loud must feel so deep. A hurt heart screams as much as it weeps.

The screech of a damaged soul can deafen. Many cover their ears. They feel they have no place to care for a hurt heart’s fears.

Sensitive is sweet. Loud is seen as sour. And many don’t appreciate when someone is candy every hour.

They say meek is to be weak. They say there’s no place for kind. To ask for accommodation is simply a waste of time.

They say the heart wants control. Yet it only craves consideration. Its fear and need for clarification is misconstrued as hatred.

The soul thinks it has friends. But many don’t value it, not as much as it values them.

Passion mistaken for anger. Caring mistaken for force. And the heart has no clue how to speak better, of course.

It values its own passion. Wishes not to be dishonest. To sugarcoat and pretend to be relaxed would only make it feel like a liar.

The soul changes to help its friends. But it knows that in the end, there are some things about it you just can’t fix.

Claim its scream is annoying and weak, yet it is a battle cry. To make it as pleasant as possible, it will definitely try.

But it will remain strong until the day it dies. To wear the heart on one’s sleeve while calling out on the battlefield, it’s an act so risky but brave and a rare one in this time.

Soul could be hit a thousand times. It will not shatter. Because it understands that what it says matters.

The soul softens for its friends. It’s willing to change in positive ways for almost whatever. It’ll do almost anything to make sure those ties don’t unnecessarily sever.

Voice is too loud. Because the heart is too big. It grew another two sizes just this morning.

Too much love within it. To live in such a broken world. Still maturing, still feels like a little girl.

Tries to bring people in. Always gets pushed away. Because it cares too much, they say.

It never claimed it doesn’t make mistakes. The things the soul screams are rarely entirely pleasant things. Just because everything it says comes from love, doesn’t mean it’s not a complete and total fuck-up

But in the end at least that means it will be willing to change. To change to help others. To not hurt a thing.

But it will never stop caring as much as it does. That never will be, and that never was.

It thinks not itself better but rather questions others. No matter if friends, foes, sisters or brothers. It asks “why don’t you care, why not is it important?”

They never got many answers that they understood. Only “because it takes to much energy and I can’t spend that” was really good. It tries to understand, to accommodate anyway.

Because it knows certain feelings are hard to explain. Even those it calls beasts it still sees as people. Merely ones that have done actions one could sometimes call evil.

The heart loves and it loves, but not many love it. With that horrible fact, it must often sit.

Because it loves and it loves, and love for something else is the only reason it could ever hate. Judgement not always good, but heart in right place.

Glowing blue with integrity, it’s got beliefs. And if those beliefs are right, it will never stop it. Heart made of gold, no need for a locket.

But not everyone sees their lustrous sheen. And many don’t understand that for them it also gleams. Because instead of seeing what it actually believes, they’re way more mad at the fact that it screamed.

Big heart breeds big feelings. Big feelings, big reaction. And it’s trying to more carefully choose those big actions.

It never means to force, to shove down its opinions. To disrespect, to hurt, to disregard. It only means to ask of its friends, not demand of strangers.

To let everyone know just how much it cares. Its voice is loud and it doesn’t know how to keep it down. A silencer would be a hard thing to wear, begin to make them struggle for air.

Desperately trying not to shout, trying not to freak its loved ones out. To be as good as it can for whoever cares back, even if that is someone it lacks.

Both trying to please and to stick to its guns, means that a lot of the time life isn’t fun.

But it’s trying.

Hey, it’s me. I’m the heart. I’m sorry I’m a mess. I don’t wanna be.

#light vent #nothing explicitly triggering in here but big feelings

[melonn-soda]

❝GIDDY UP & GO!!... ❞

word count: 3.3k

warnings: subbot! male reader, domtop! boothill, genitals are not explicitly mentioned, grinding, no actual penetration, unnecessary descriptions how much there is of spit (sorry if ur not into that), predator/prey if u squint, nd gunplay if u squint really really hard (is implied), lots of pentnames, praise, save a horse ride a cowboy but I change a factor, cowboy hat rule because RRGHGHGRHRGHHGHGHG

prompt: boothill has made it his life mission to cash in the money he gets when he lands you behind bars. however, when it becomes apparent as to why you let him pursue you, he begins to chase you for an entirely different reason

notes: lost 50/50 to yanqing (he's still my kid nd I love him regardless YANQING HATERS LEAVE!!!!) when wishing for aventurine. now I'm pulling for boothill if I don't get my little gambler (if Sunday is playable and better than boothill then im sorry to my fav cowboy yeehaw) not beta read

fem aligned dni

“Oh, my.”

Boothill hates your guts. That’s a given.

He hates the way you carry yourself, the sly remarks you’ll make if you spot even one hint of insecurity, the slight draw on certain syllables to give a mocking tone- you, in general. Although he’s more on the bothering side than the bothered, you’re just so much more annoying than he thought even possible. Guess that’s why you’re known as a high-end bandit.

He’s been on your tail for weeks, chasing any leads (a lot of them, like you wanted the chase) he could get his hands on. He’s even seen you slinking around taverns, poker tables, run-down hotels- for fucks’ sake, even on horseback racing down a dirt path while attempting to rob a moving train. To feel the satisfaction of seeing the credits Boothill would obtain after putting you behind bars is all he wants to experience because this is just getting ridiculous.

So, why the hell now, is he bound up to the ceiling with chains thicker than his own ankle after finding your base?

The amused smile finds its way upon your lips and Boothill wants to do nothing more than to kick it right off. You were in a vulnerable position before he decided to sneak in, with your chair tipped as your feet were kicked up on a busted wooden table, a bandana resting over your eyes to block out the sunlight that dared to drift into the room. Boothill made the dumbest mistake by alerting you of his presence through triggering a well hidden trip-wire. Perking you up, you began to rise from your seat, swiftly removing the bandana from your eyes and fingers instinctively on the handle of your revolver that sat on the gun holster strapped to your thigh. The trap triggered so fast, Boothill’s sensors barely had time to react to it before the ‘snap!’s and ‘crack!’s echoed throughout the room and he was pressed against the ceiling within seconds.

Sharp glares were stabbing through your form as your hand rested on your hip as you whistled, looking up at the ranger in slight surprise and smugness. Aeons, he hated you.

“Wow, such a reckless move to jus’ prance yer way in here, no? Hey, aren't cha a Galaxy Ranger or somethin’?” You tease, swiveling your chair so that you could sit backwards on it, crossing your arms atop of the back rest so you could rest your chin on your forearms, “Surely, ya coulda suspected that I woulda set up a trap. But why waste all yer precious time on someone as measly as me? I ain’t nothin’ but a lil’ ol’ bandit.”

“You better seal yer pretty lil’ lips, doll.” Boothill hisses at you, his voicebank glitching to censor the words he so desperately wanted to say, “My bullets don’t take too kindly to sweet talkers n’ foxes.”

A laugh echoes throughout the falling apart structure then settles into a hum as you stand up and kick the chair against the wall, “Ya sure like to talk big. Kinda fits ya, though.” The chair slams right under Boothill and you slowly make your way towards it, the clinking of spurs on your boots highlighting every step you take.

Looking up at the suspended robot, your left foot raises and rests on the seat, leaning in to provoke the cyborg even further, “It’s kinda cute how ya keep pursuin’ me despite all these failed attempts. How ‘bout I give ya more of a reason to keep chasin’ me than only doin’ it for jus’ the credits?”

Boothill’s eyebrows creased in suspicion as your hand raises up to his face, contemplating just biting your fingers straight off until he hears the click of the safety and a metal barrel against the human skin of his jaw. His teeth clench in anger as you nearly laugh at his compliance, reaching above his head and snatching his hat right off.

Oh, he was going to kill you for sure-

The hat plops onto your head and you wink at him while sticking your tongue out.

What.

There wasn’t-

There was no way.

“Catch me if ya can, cowboy.” You say dismissively, briskly turning around and walking out of the rundown hideout. However, before you could get out of his line of sight, your head turned to face him and you said, “I’ll be waitin’. As always.”

Dumbfounded and a half an hour later collapsed on the floor from the wooden boards snapping- which loosened the chains, he replays that minute over and over again. He didn’t want to believe that had actually happened but his memory told him otherwise.

There was no way that you...

Whatever. He’ll think about it later. He needs to get his damn hat back.

The first time Boothill finds you, it’s in a more forest-y area. You’re on your trusty steed, talking to some other criminals with little interest. The cowboy watches the interaction, paying special attention to your reactions to see if you’ve noticed his presence. From what he could tell, you didn’t seem to see that he was watching while using the shrubbery to cover him and the horse he was on. The people you were talking to he recognized from some wanted posters, only worth some credits. Not as much as your bounty, though.

...

...You’re still wearing his hat.

“Look, partner,” Your voice dips into an exhausted, low, sigh, “I need that shipment as soon as possible, ya hear? I ain’t got too much time left before she’s reached her time. Ion care how ya get it, I need it in at least a week! Otherwise she’ll get real snappy and I’m gonna hafta put some lead in some poor person's head.”

One of the bandits flashes a worried look to another, “Boss, ya don’t understand! The Xianshou Luofu’s been havin’ sum sorta delay! We ain’t gonna get those packages ‘til some long period of time!”

Boothill’s interest peaks as you begin to snap, “Did ya not hear me? I said, ‘Ion care how ya get them!’ Find a way! Talk to that Trailblazer everyone’s been praisin’ about or somethin’! Jus’ get me my stuff before ‘m gonna start blowin’ some brains out-”

A rustle causes you to pause your sentence as you draw your weapon immediately, the barrel facing his direction and bullets fly. Boothill’s horse had begun to munch on the bush, which gave away his position, but thankfully he moved quick enough to get out of the way.

You decided to book it when you caught sight of the familiar white and black hair, spurs hitting the sides of your horse as you begin to get out of the area to leave nothing but a trail of dust. Boothill doesn’t hesitate to race after you, whipping the reins of his horse to get her going.

Branches and twigs tug at Boothill’s hair as he chases you through the forest, lowering his torso so that he could lessen the wind resistance as his horse’s hooves slam against the ground. You’re quite the distance away, mostly because your horse is pretty speedy. It’s how you get away from crime scenes so fast. However, Nellie, the horse Boothill is riding currently, is also quite fast.

Although, not fast enough because in the end, he still loses you.

The curses he spits all get censored immediately as he slows into a stop, head turning in every direction to see if you left any trail behind. Only to see none. Didn’t expect as much from a skilled criminal.

The second time he spots you is in the tavern, playing a game of poker with people that had their pockets stuffed full of cash. ‘Rich folk,’ Boothill grimaces as he could see them tilt their chin up like the world owes them something. If you rob them, he won’t feel even a sliver of remorse.

He knows that you can see him as he leans against the wall to watch the match, some of the rich getting intensively frustrated as they begin to fold after betting so high. Judging by the scheming smile on your face, he could tell you have a winning hand. Then again, when are you never smiling like you have something up your sleeve?

Finally, in the showdown, you and the person you’re going up against reveal your cards and you win with a four of a kind. Lucky.

The people at the table groan and push their chips in your direction, getting up to leave as their attitudes have just been soured over that singular match. Boothill takes the opportunity to walk over to you and remove the gun from his holster and press it right up against your lower back, hand coming up to snatch his hat that rests atop your head.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

A window shatters behind him and he could hear flames begin to roar but he doesn’t dare tear his eyes away from you. Only when he feels cold metal press against the nape of his neck does his actions falter and his eyes turn to face whoever decided to draw their weapon.

He blinks in shock to see a figure completely made of water, his gaze returning to you and seeing you sitting on the edge of the table with your gun pressed against his forehead. Shit. He’s lost again.

The tavern completely surrenders to the flames as people scream at the sight of fire, swallowing up the alcohol and wood. Boothill can hear his fans whirring to prevent himself from overheating but the attempt is futile as the room begins to get unbearably hot. He’s not sure if it’s just the fire that’s causing him to overheat or it’s because you look insanely good with all this red and orange light.

...

What is he even thinking right now?

“Y’know, it’s gettin’ real fun toyin’ with ya, cowboy.” You speak, completely unbothered by all the heat in the building. He can’t even see a single drop of sweat on your face. Even so, you continue, “But I think ya can do a little better than this.”

The ranger’s lips purse in offense, glaring at you as best as he could. The gun you had pointed lazily at his forehead falls to the floor and Boothill isn’t sure how long he can last in this heat. Before his system could finally shut down because of overheating, he could feel your lips press against the area where your gun was pressed up against. Then, he falls over as his system forcibly turns him off.

The third time Boothill sees you, he’s lying on a metal workbench with cold water floating above him and fans blowing in his direction. He’s confused, obviously, and on his toes as he realizes he’s not in an area he’s not familiar with. He attempts to sit up to find a way to escape only to realize that he can’t move his arm. Now, he’s terrified.

“Relax, cowboy.” Your voice coos from behind a computer, typing away at something as you're taking a tip from a glass. Presumably water. “I’m cooling ya off. You’re welcome... You should be able to move now.”

Boothill shoots up from his spot and rips off the cables that are attached to his left arm, head darting around to look for his gun. He hears a click and once again finds himself with a gun pressed up against his jaw.

“Lookin’ for this?”

The crosshair that replaces his once human pupils flit over to your direction, noticing that you were holding his revolver in your dominant hand. Boothill swears that you must like pointing a barrel in his direction for how many times this has been done. He also sees that you’re wearing his very cropped jacket over your usual attire. ... And you’re still wearing his hat.

“That’s mine, pretty boy.” The ranger gives you a half-assed growl as his censor kicks in once more, already getting annoyed at your sly behaviour, “Ya really got a knack for takin’ stuff that’s not yours, huh? No wonder yer a criminal.”

You giggle at his words, tossing his gun on the metal workbench, “It’s not loaded, neither is your little gun hand.” You tell him, like he was going to start unloading mags into your skin. Turning around, you walk back to your computer and open up a drawer on the desk it sits on, “Well?” You ask after a momentary silence, leaning on one of your legs as you crack open a bottle of whiskey and begin to pour it into your empty glass.

“‘Well’, what?” Boothill narrows his eyes at you, picking up his revolver and shoving it back into his thigh holster. He’ll just have to go to the nearest mechant and buy more bullets.

“Ain’t ya gonna, I don’t know, take yer hat back?” You ask him, taking a sip of the alcohol that gives a slight burn down your throat, “We’re in an enclosed space, barely any room t’move around, exit’s right behind ya ‘n all. Perfect chance t’arrest me, if I dare so say m’self.”

He blinks. There’s got to be some sort of trap if the setup is this perfect. He’s not going to make the same mistake he did before, not again. So, his sensors scan the room quickly, which leaves you unamused, and he sees that there are in fact no traps in this room. Boothill almost doesn’t want to believe it.

“Are ya playin’ some sort of game with me?” Boothill’s eyes begin to squint in suspicion, carefully trying to think of a situation you might pull that puts him on the losing end of the stick, “Yer jus’ gonna let yourself get arrested? Jus’ like that?”

“What? Ya don’t wanna do it? Too scared?” You taunt him again, causing the cowboy’s circuits to boil in animosity.

“Ya know what?” Boothill smiles a tense one, taking long, menacing steps in your direction, “I’ve ‘bout had it with your attitude, pretty boy. Seems like ya didn’t have anybody ta teach ya proper manners.” All of a sudden, you felt yourself being slammed up against the wall behind you with a grunt, Boothill’s right hand keeping your wrists together and his left hand tilting your chin up to look at him, his eyes glowing a dangerous red, “I mean, after that stunt ya pulled in yer lil’ base, it seems like ya wanna be caught by me.”

“Hah.. guilty as charged.” You laugh, attempting to keep your smooth facade up, only for it to crack once you could feel his metal knee nudge between your thighs. A whine rips through your throat as he keeps his knee still, not bothering to give you the pleasure you oh so wanted from the day you saw him.

“How ‘bout it, doll?” Boothill sneers at your pathetic expression, lips getting dangerously close to yours, “I can give ya a better punishment than jail could.”

One thing’s for sure: Boothill’s mechanical body does not have any built in... pleasure devices, he’s nearly as smooth as a doll. However, there is a slightly large bump on his pelvis in the shape of an oval that if you were to grind just right up against, you’ll-

“O-oh!”

Boothill’s lips curve up into a smirk as he sees you push down hard against his metallic form, trying to settle your trembles by wrapping your arms tightly around his neck to stabilize yourself. It’s cute, he thinks, seeing you all desperate for sexual relief. The way you hopelessly cling to him like he’s the last thing keeping you alive. He can’t believe he actually thought about putting you behind bars if getting you wrapped around his finger was this satisfying. 

“How’s it feel, pretty boy?” Boothill whispers in your ear, causing a shiver to rack your spine as his grip adjusts to settle on your lower waist, pushing you even further against him, “Feel like yer gonna explode yet?”

Whimpering in response, your shaky fingertips grip onto his shoulders as your forehead now presses against his. Soft pants fill the room and Boothill can practically see the hearts in your eyes as your hips continue to move against his. You both still have your clothes on but this all still feels so intimate, probably better than actual penetration.

The ranger’s hand reaches up to tug his hat that still rests on your head, fixing it back from its tilted state, “Ya look like ya wanna kiss, doll.” He teases, bringing your chin closer to the point where your noses brushed up against one another.

“Pl-please..” You say breathily, gently tugging at his hair.

“Attaboy.” Boothill snickers in response, “Looks like yer finally learning.” His freakishly long tongue slithers past his lips as soon as they press against yours, slipping into your mouth as saliva begins to spill down your chin. Aeons, you’re just so cute.

Soft moans are swallowed up by Boothill’s greedy mouth, his thumb coming up to pull against your bottom lip before he pulls away and the only thing that connects your mouths is the thin trail of spit. His robotic thumb pushes into your mouth, pressing against your tongue as drool continues to spill down your pretty lips. He could get used to this.

He notices how much faster your hips move, calculating that you were close as whines and whimpers flood the room. The smile on Boothill’s face only widens even further, bumping his hips up to catch you off guard. He knows he succeeds when he hears a shaky squeak come from your mouth.

“What’s wrong, pretty boy? Ya gonna bust?” The ranger sneers, the thumb in your mouth shifting so he widens your lips by pushing at the sides, “Y’know, I could easily deny ya of that relief. Ya kinda deserve it for teasin’ me this whole time.”

You shake your head violently, already too close to be pulled away now. Boothill snickers in response, “No? What makes ya think you can tell me what to do?” A pleading look flashes across your features and Boothill has half the decency to make you beg for release. He decides to have mercy on you, though, “Mmmn, I mean, I guess ya have been pretty obedient. Go on and blow yer load f’me, pretty.”

With a shudder and a slight bite on Boothill’s metal thumb, your pants get soaked in your fluids, staining the fabric. Your hips jerk a couple of times to ride out your orgasm then you started slumping onto his chest in exhaustion. Boothill’s other hand rubs at your hip to soothe you, letting you rest in place to calm the trembles that still cause your body to twitch in overstimulation.

“Good boy.” He says softly, pulling his thumb out of your mouth, watching as it dripped since it was slick with your spit. Letting you catch your breath for a moment, he waits before he decides to ask, “So, what package were ya waitin’ for?”

“Baby stuff.” You sigh, face burying into Boothill’s neck, “My sister’s expecting ‘nd her wife’s been tellin’ me to get that stuff as soon as possible. The Luofu has been delaying their packages for a bit, somethin’ about shippin’ difficulties. Can’t believe ya’d remember something like that, though.”

The cowboy huffs in response, “Bein’ a cyborg’s got some perks. The only bad part is that ion got a dick to fuck ya with. Woulda been nice to see ya unable to walk for a few days.”

You sit up and give him a weird look, hands resting on his shoulders, “Ya do know strap-ons exist, right?” The way you said that made him feel much stupider, like you were pointing out the obvious to him.

“...Oh.” Boothill’s face flushes embarrassingly hot as his fans kick in once more.

Aeons, he hated you.

#x male reader #male reader #x bottom male reader #bottom male reader #hsr x male reader #hsr x reader #hsr boothill #boothill hsr #boothill honkai star rail #boothill x reader #boothill x male reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x male reader

[syrena-del-mar]

The Nine Circles of Hell: Dead Friend Forever, Episode 7

First, a trigger warning: I'll be discussing themes of revenge porn, grooming, statutory rape, sexual coercion.

I'm going to discuss this episode with as much upmost care as I can, due to the sheer amount of sensitive material that came out of this week's episode I will also not being using any explicit scene screen captures from this episode. If there's anything you'd like to me to take out or want a more in depth conversation, feel free to use either of my message boxes.

Last week I said DFF had more to offer than just being a campy 90s slasher remake. While I first thought we were already in the depths of hell, thematically, with Non getting beaten by the mafia, I didn't expect this week's episode to somehow double that pain. But here we are. I was lulled into false security with the 5 minute montage of getting to know what Phee and Non's relationship was like. I should have remembered that I'm definitely watching the wrong genre when I expected more of those moments.

Non and Phee

This episode really continues and expands the idea that humans are not these clear-cut, unambiguous, good-or-bad beings that idea has now been depicted through Non and his relationship with Phee. Non has so much love to give and so much want for being loved, it's what leads to Phee in the first place, but it's also what leads to his downfall. Because Non loves so much and so hard, it's also why he wasn't ecstatic that Phee had to lie to his father and say that he was involved, just to get him out of trouble with the police. What started like a sweet date turns a bit bitter, because Non is seeing the consequences of his actions not only affect himself but also the others that he loves. It's also why he couldn't tell Phee about the sheer amount he owed Tee's uncle, because he was now well aware that if Phee found out, he would get himself involved.

Non lies and manipulates Phee, he tells him time and time again that nothing happened between him and Mr. Kreng. Non swears to Phee that he isn't lying to him and that he won't keep any secrets from him anymore. It pains him to do so, he's barely holding himself together by the end of a thread thread once he's Phee's arms and his face is hidden from Phee's view. Yet, he does. He keeps it a secret how big of a hole he has found himself in, because he doesn't want to drag Phee down with him. Non says it himself to Jin, he doesn't want to be burden, he'll figure it out himself. It's a direct parallel to the bigger issues that Non is finding himself in beyond just within the 'movie set'. He has the 300 million baht hanging over his head, his parents (in his point of view) regret having him and find that he does is bring embarrassment to the family, and now he has another adult willing to give him the 300 million baht with a fake sense of care. So he found, what he believes to be, a solution that would get rid of the 300 million baht debt and all it requires is giving up a piece of himself, but at least it won't come at a cost of burdening his parents or Phee.

In trying to protect Phee, his lies ends up costing him the one he loves the most, Phee. Now from this point on, this is all speculation, but when Phee accused Non of 'always doing this', I'm not in the camp that believes that Phee is accusing Non about being a serial cheater. I see why people are in that camp, but I initially jumped to that conclusion as well. Now, I'm more in the line that Phee is accusing of Non always feeding him lies, even after explicitly promising him that he wouldn't. After putting his neck out for him, after letting Non do things his way as long as he promised to tell him the truth, Non goes back to telling lies. Phee lashes out, and at the end of the day he's still a teenager, so he hits Non's weakest point. Just get lost and die. The very words that likely haunt Phee in the present-day, now as an adult. And Non's holds the broken bracelet, punishing himself, because he knew that there was no coming back from losing his lifeline.

Non and Mr. Kreng (Please keep my trigger warnings in mind, they will be heavily discussed in this section.)

Statutory Rape. Grooming. Coerced Sexual Relations. Nonconsensual Sex. Molestation. Sexual Assault. Sexual Abuse. Those are all words to describe the relationship that occurred between Non and Mr. Keng. Let's call exactly what it is. I think I'll lose my mind if I have to see someone another person call Non a cheater. There is no cheating when there is statutory rape.

Non is literally at the end of his rope, Mr. Keng clocked that immediately. He knew that Non was isolated, that he was completely othered by his classmates, he believes that Non has nobody else to turn to, and he knows that Non is in deep in a scam that target teens. In his eyes, he found the perfect victim.

Non is taken advantage of by a person in power, a person that he should be able to trust. Non isn't naïve, he clocked that Mr. Keng wanted something from him since the moment they first met. But he is vulnerable. He's being extorted by the mafia and he sees someone offering him the money that he needs to put an end to that. In his eyes, it was a way out, a means to an end that just cost him a piece of his soul. I truly think Non rationalized it to himself as prostituting himself, because he knew that money was never coming without a price. No matter how much Mr. Keng tried to sell it as 'brotherly' love.

But at the end of the day, it does not matter what Non believed or rationalized, because Mr. Keng was the adult in the situation. He had a duty, as a teacher, to protect Non and provide a safe classroom environment. Instead he target, manipulates, and coerces Non into having sexual relations with him. He knows the power imbalance he holds, first as a teacher and then with the 300 million baht he 'gave' him. Mr. Keng, knowing that Non's not close to his 'friends', physically isolates him. He takes him to his office that's half-lit, located in a long hallway with, seemingly, very little foot traffic. He prods at Non, asking what's been bothering him and has him visibly become emotional, before offering his care. He's a complete and utter predator, in every sense of the term.

I hope he dies a long, painful death.

Non and Jin

First and foremost, whether or not Jin was ultimately the one that posted the video does not matter. Filming a classmate being sexually assaulted is still child porn at the very least and, possibly, revenge porn (if he disseminated the video) at the worst. I was on the same boat as @respectthepetty and their take that Jin had to be the worst of them all. Like they said in that post, Jin is a coward and he even admits to it. There's nothing more cowardly than hiding behind a door, filming you supposed 'friend' getting sexually abused by your teacher, and then even considering putting up on social media for revenge because your heart is broken.

Yes, Top framed Non. Yes, Por demanded (and bullied) money from Non. Yes, Tee brought Non to the mafia. Those are all very bad things, don't get me wrong. All the physical and mental abuse they put Non through was hell. Yet, Jin was the only one aware that Non had already been seeing someone, which seemingly had upset him already. Then he sees him with Mr. Keng and instead of reporting that his alleged friend was being assaulted, he gets angry and films Non at his most vulnerable point in life. Even Fluke didn't want any part of that.

Jin takes away Non's dignity. And at the end of the day, it doesn't matter whether he uploaded it online or not, he was still the one to film, transfer that file onto his computer, and contemplate whether he was going to post it or not. At every point since he found that Non and Mr. Kreng were in that room, he rendered Non powerless. That video would have never been uploaded if it hadn't existed in the first place. With just a point of a camera and click of a button, he is revictimizing Non every. single. time. that video is opened and seen by another person.

There are no words to fully describe or explain that kind of trauma that he has subjected Non to.

Final Thoughts

This episode was nauseating. It honestly took me about two hours just to get to the end. Usually, I can watch through a show I enjoy really quickly, but this episode was so hard to digest. And that's simply due to how realistic they are approaching the subject of Non and Mr. Keng.

Barcode and Ta really are the stars of the show. I'm not saying that the other castmates aren't amazing in their roles, but man TaBarcode really know are hitting every single emotional beat. I was never a TaBarcode nor a MacauChay girlie, but man Be On Cloud has truly brought out their best this time around. Even though I fully know we are heading towards an incredibly heart wrenching ending for PheeNon, I can't help but want to hoard and scramble for moments of them together.

It's crazy how well, everyone was able to pull their weight this episode. There were so many moments that with less talented, less experienced actors, could have fallen flat, but they didn't. Ta and Barcode's PheeNon was so incredibly heart-beating, butterfly inducing before we were brought back into their reality outside of their relationship. 2J and Barcode's scenes were.... so disgustingly real, for lack of better words. I knew that storyline was never going to end well but it had been more than I ever expected Be On Cloud to release. They're tackling such real issues that weigh on teens with incredible tact, there's no romanticizing what happened. Even Phee's reaction was so understandable when you put yourself in the shoes of a teenager. I'll reiterate again and again, whatever you think about Be On Cloud as a management company, as a production company, they really are breaking boundaries and doing something right. Whatever happens in the second half, I think I'll be here, recovering, for a long time.

#dead friend forever #dff meta #dff the series #dff episode 7 #dff non #dff Phee #dff jin #dff mr.kreng #dead friend forever the series #barcode tinnasit #ta nannakun #copper phuriwat #2J Chalach #be on cloud #boc actors #dff spoilers #pheenon #jinnon #pheejinnon #dff

[bookshelf-dust]

let the light in

steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 2,177

warnings: (this is a heavy fic! please be aware before you read if any of this is triggering for you!) swearing, reader suffers from depression/is in a depressive episode, allusions to passive suicidal feelings and self harm (not explicitly stated), trouble eating/drinking, wooziness, side effects of self-neglect, trouble with self care, one use of y/n, slight hair description—essentially reader is just very depressed

a/n: hello! it’s been quite a while since i wrote anything, but alas i have remembered how. i used this fic as a way to deal with things i’ve been going through and provide myself some comfort, but i’m hoping that it will reach anyone else who needs that or understands these sort of feelings. i really need a steve, and maybe you do too. please be kind! this is a tentative attempt at getting back into writing. also as a small note, this is meant to bet set in the mid 90s, so reader and steve are in their twenties. happy reading <33

————

The phone is ringing again. For the third time. 

You know who it is without having to answer. It’s not like there are a plethora of people with your number anyway. 

But for the third time, you let it ring. When the shrill noise stops, you think you’re in the clear—only for the sound of Steve’s voice to reach your ears. He’s leaving you a voicemail.

Fucking answering machine. 

You stare at the wall, your arm dangling off the bed, while you listen to him say everything you knew he’d say. That he’s worried. That he’s coming to check on you because your lack of an answer is freaking him out. 

And you gave him a key all those months ago, so it’s not like you can stop him. You wouldn’t have the energy to anyhow. 

You roll over and tuck your hands under your cheek. You have no idea what time it is, but the little light your curtains had let in is gone, leaving your room dark. There is a small night light though, just under your window, that Robin bought you because it looks like your favorite flower. Other than that, your small apartment has succumbed to the darkness of a winter evening.

That pressure behind your eyes builds, and without knowing why, you begin to cry. Steve is going to see you like this, and you want to be alone. You don’t have it in you to talk about it or be berated for letting yourself go. 

But you’re also angry. You don’t understand why he gives a shit about you, or why he can’t just leave you alone. Why he can’t just let you go. Why he won’t let you go.  

Most of all you’re angry at yourself for being this way. For being so fucked up. For being alone and for having to watch everyone else be happy and content. 

In your emotional haze, you fall back asleep. You’re not sure how though, considering you shouldn’t even need the rest anymore. But that tired feeling ever goes away, does it?

You wake to the sound of footsteps, to the feeling of your mattress dipping behind you. There’s a gentle weight on your side. Steve.

“Hey, honey,” he starts. “Did you get my message?” 

Steve’s hand rubs softly back and forth over the dip of your waist. You hate the pitying tone in his voice. Even if you know it’s not pity. It’s pain. He’s too big of an empath, and he hates seeing you this way. It breaks his heart, not knowing what you’re feeling and having to see you in a way that embodies nothing more than a shell of the you he first met. 

“You need to go home, Steve,” you say, refusing to face him. He’s turned your lamp on, and something about that pisses you off. 

Your voice is pleading, and it brings tears to Steve’s eyes. He pushes his glasses up onto his forehead. 

“You know I can’t do that. I won’t leave you here like this.”

You roll your eyes and shift onto your back. Steve’s stomach drops at how drained you look. 

“I want you to leave. I need to be alone,” you say, staring at his hand where it’s moved to your stomach with the change in position. 

Your words are harsh, thick with emotion, and you look at Steve like you’re begging him to see how much you’re hurting and need him to go away. You want him to listen and leave you here to slowly disappear. That’s all you’re asking for. So why can’t he give you that much? 

It’s killing him to see you like this. To watch you try and push him away. He knows that’s part of your plan. That way it’ll be easier, in the end. But this is not the you he’s always known. There was a time before it got this bad. Before you lost yourself in it. 

“When’s the last time you ate?” he asks, rather than fueling your frustration. 

You roll onto your side, completely facing him now, and pull the blankets up to your chin. Your eyes fill with tears, so you close them. Something about being asked that upsets you. You don’t feel like eating and he’s going to make you.

Steve puts a hand on your leg and waits for an answer. 

“Yesterday. At breakfast. I had a Pop-Tart.”

He keeps himself from sighing, but his heart might as well have dropped out of his ass. You haven’t eaten in 36 hours, and he’s sure that if he hadn’t shown up you might’ve made it more. You’re clearly not worried about eating, and there’s not a single cup in your room either.

“Please don’t make me eat, Steve. I don’t feel like it. Please don’t make me do anything.”

You look up at him with pleading eyes. You want to be left here until your body gives up on you.

“Honey, I’m not going to force you. But I came here to help you, and I need you to try and let me.”

Your vision goes blurry, tears rushing to the surface because the idea of taking care of yourself in any way upsets you more than anything. You cover your eyes, but can’t hold back the sob that lurches up your throat. 

“Y/N, sweetheart, come here.” 

Steve slips a hand around your back, coaxing you upwards. You oblige, happy to let him hold you for a moment. You ignore the fact that your vision blurs again, due to the fact that you haven’t sat up in who knows how long, and fall into him. 

“I can’t, Steve. I can’t do anything or remember a damn thing. I’m so tired. I don’t feel like being alive. I don’t want to move.”

Hearing you express those feelings through your cries, hearing you tell him how bad it’s gotten tears him apart. He wants to make it all better. He can’t bear seeing you like this. And he doesn’t want to imagine what you might’ve done to take these feelings out before he got here. 

Steve holds you until you stop wailing, and even when you pull away the tears still come, hiccups making you hold your breath. Your eyes are swollen and your nose won’t quit running. It doesn’t bother him one bit. 

“I know you probably don’t want to do anything, so I have a plan for you, okay? I’m gonna turn the shower on and let you hop in while I get you something small for dinner. I’m gonna take care of everything.”

You sigh. You can’t leave your bed. Besides, who knows if you’ll even be able to stand with how little you’ve put in your body lately.

You press your face into Steve’s shoulder and shake your head. “I don’t think I can.”

He places both hands gently on your cheeks and lifts your face to get you looking at him. 

“You can. I’m going to help, I promise. You won’t have to do anything too demanding.”

Steve slides off the bed and stands. He gently pulls the blankets back from your lap, revealing criss crossed legs and socked feet. He taps your knee and you brace yourself against the mattress, moving your legs over the side, toes feeling for the floor. 

He holds out his hands and you grab hold of his forearms, letting him pull you upwards. Just as suspected, your vision swirls and your body goes all tingly. You sway a little, but Steve holds onto you still, waiting for the moment to pass. After a few seconds, your sight clears, your ears stop ringing, and you can stand on your own. “I’m okay now,” you say. 

He presses a sweet kiss to your forehead, and your heart sinks into your stomach. You don’t deserve this. He needs to stop being so good to you when you’re falling apart.

“Stretch a little, alright?” Steve looks at you over his shoulder before going for your dresser and opening your pajama drawer. 

You try to do as he says, ignoring the way you feel compelled to tell him not to take this so seriously. You press your hands to your back and lean so your hips pop, raise your arms so your shoulders do the same, and bend so harshly that your vision goes out again. Your body is so angry with you.

You’d closed your eyes, but open them when you hear the shower start running. Steve leaves your small bathroom and walks toward you.

“I laid everything out for you, okay? You don’t have to stay long if you don’t want, you only have to cover your bases. You’ll feel so much better after, I promise.”

You nod, and Steve is surprised by the way you hesitantly walk into the bathroom and mentally prepare yourself to shower. 

“Yell if you need me,” he says, smiling before he closes the door behind you. 

You’ve never wanted to shower less in your life, but the water is already running, and you have to get it over with. You quickly undress, avoiding the mirror and anything that might cause an extra ache. Though you do run a hand over the tender skin of your thigh before opening the door and stepping in. You know you have to be kinder to yourself. 

As for bathing, you’re quick, but you wash and condition your hair and make sure to wash your body just as well. You’d never admit it, but being clean does help some. At least you’re physically taken care of. 

When you’re finished, you realize you hadn’t gotten a towel, but your eyes soon find what Steve had laid out for you.

Two towels. Underwear. Your robe. Clean pajamas and socks. Not to mention the lotion and hairbrush he slid forward on the counter so you’d reach for them. He did all of this to make things easier for you. And that makes your heart grow in size. 

You towel off and make the effort to put lotion on as best as you can. Usually you can haphazardly do your back on your own, but you’re so tired now, you realize. You haven’t moved this much in days. 

You gently pull the bathroom door open. “Steve?” you call. He’s there within seconds. 

“Yeah? All done, sweetheart?”

“Almost. Do you think you could put lotion on my back for me? I might need help with my hair, too. If you don’t mind.”

He smiles so sweetly at you. “Of course I don’t mind. Come on.” 

You watch as he pumps some of your lotion into his hands, sniffing it just to make you grin. You move your robe down off your shoulders so that he can get to your back, careful to keep your chest covered. Not that he’d dare look anyway. 

His hands are gentle and soft against the nape of your neck, up and down your spine, on your lower back. He covers the area for you, taking the time to massage it in and hopefully provide you a little relief. 

When he’s finished, you pull your robe up and tie it around your waist. You don’t have the chance to reach for your hairbrush because he’s already got it, fingers gathering your mass of hair towards your back. You can feel the heat of him behind you, and the ache for physical contact surfaces in your chest.

Steve is incredibly gentle when detangling your hair. He starts at the bottom and works your way up, apologizing each time it snags. It feels so nice, so mundane and comforting, that you close your eyes and let yourself feel his hands on your scalp, on your shoulders. You let him take care of you without complaint. 

When that’s over he allows you to finish dressing. You slip into the pajamas he’d chosen for you, not disregarding the fact that the shirt is one of his. 

You patter out to the kitchen, where Steve has fixed you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, cut into triangles. You sit next to him on your couch and eat in the quiet of the evening, you enjoying being less alone and him glad to see you eating. 

He takes your empty plate from you shortly after, noticing how sleepy you look. 

“Come on, honey. Let’s go lay down, yeah?” He helps you up and holds your hand on the way to the bedroom. He’d changed your sheets while you were showering.

You sit down on the bed, watery eyes looking up at him. “Are you leaving?” you ask.

“No, sweetheart. I was going to offer to stay.”

“Please. I don’t want to be alone.”

Steve slips into bed beside you. “You don’t have to worry. I’m right here.” He takes your pinky in his. “I promise you won’t have to suffer through this on your own. I’m not going anywhere.”

You squeeze your pinky against his, and in that moment, the pain in your chest eases just a little bit. 

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

#tw: depression #tw: depressive thoughts #savannah’s fics #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington angst #steve harrington comfort #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x depressed!reader #tw: sucidal thoughts #tw: self harm

[mermaidlighthouse]

I want to talk for a moment (or a LONG few moments but…) about my special little angel face, honeysuckle, cuppie cake…Stede Bonnet

From the start of the season, Stede is desperately seeking a person who he’s afraid will think he’s not good enough, that he is somehow lacking. He’s afraid he blew his chance at real happiness because he was scared and panicked (as he explicitly tells Ed in Fun and Games) but there’s so much more going on here. He wasn’t just scared and panicked because they were moving so fast during all their time together- he DIDN’T KNOW what they were doing. He didn’t realize they were falling in love because he didn’t know what it meant to be in love.

He was scared that running away to China was just going to be a rash decision borne out of a need to escape - he didn’t understand his value in general but more importantly, in that scene, to Ed. He didn’t understand that the “You wear fine things well” moment was special for Ed - we see that he’s come to understand that NOW in the flashback in Red Flags. He didn’t realize that to Ed, Stede is special. In all the moments that we understand Ed has been vulnerable because he’s willing to open up to Stede, Stede doesn’t have our insight. Not because he’s emotionally unintelligent - I would argue he’s generally well aware of how people see him - the problem is that NO ONE has seen him as worthy before and therefore is very easy to undervalue his significance. 

If we look at all the scenes that we as an audience can tell are meaningful to Ed, from Stede’s perspective he’s either unaware of Ed’s motivations even though the audience is aware (the treasure scene) or can, through the dialogue or lack thereof, discount the importance because of his poor self-worth. For instance, in the bathtub scene, Ed specifically says he outsources the big job - Ed has told Stede he doesn’t kill people not personally - it implies Ed’s decision to NOT kill Stede isn’t all that big a deal or at least to a person who doesn’t see their value (Stede) it would be very easy to write off the idea that Ed specifically didn’t want to kill Stede. Stede is aware that the fuckery has been triggering for Ed - this doesn’t make Ed’s confession any less impactful but it does bring into question the reasons behind his decision to not kill Stede. For Stede, it can easily be explained by saying “Ed has just relived a traumatic moment, he’s currently dealing with a heavy emotional burden, Ed doesn’t kill people (he just said so) and so he doesn’t want to kill me because it would be further trauma. Ed didn’t even see me as his friend so I’m simply a random person who happens to be here.” There, a neat little box of reasons that has nothing to do with Stede - not in any meaningful way, he’s merely a prop in the story. 

On the cliff, that was the first time he was even aware he was having an impact on Ed in any sort of meaningful way. Ed had literally, just walked away, yeah he came back but it’s not that difficult to see how it seemed easy for Ed to leave. Ed opted not to be Blackbeard anymore ostensibly to save Stede but, Stede is aware that Ed’s been thinking about packing it all in for a while now. Stede doesn’t understand how big an influence he’s had on Ed. It would be easy to say that he did ruin history’s greatest pirate because he put Ed in a position where he felt obligated to save Stede. Stede knows that Ed knows that Izzy sold them out. Ultimately, Ed put Stede in the position of being found by Chauncey and his first mate made that possible. It’s not that much of a stretch to assume that Ed simply feels guilty for putting Stede in that position and is saving him from the firing squad because of that guilt. Stede doesn’t see his worth and can’t imagine that it’s him as a person that Ed is attracted to, that Ed adores. That Ed’s quasi- or Izzy’s direct involvement in bringing about the situation has nothing to do with Ed’s decision because that would mean giving himself more credit, giving himself more agency and Stede has routinely been told that he has none, he never earned his status and he never will. The things he enjoys are worthless and weak. 

Stede so undervalues himself that excuses for people NOT hurting him or saving him can’t be due to his appeal or importance. He’s unimportant, therefore Ed’s reactions and decisions have little if anything to do with him. 

This is the repressed trauma that he carries around with him, that he buries beneath the smiles and silliness. He has moments of working through that (“I am adequate”) but that doesn’t remove the deep-rooted insecurities. The fact that he gets up and smiles and allows himself to be silly speaks to his strength of character. The moments when the demons rear their heads are so impactful but the fact that they return below the surface doesn’t mean they go away, it doesn’t mean he’s defeated them. Is it healthy? No. Is it still so courageous? Abso-fucking-lutely. He’s simply one of the strongest, most capable, genuinely wonderful characters BECAUSE he does all he does, saving the crew, working against his selfishness (most of the time), trying to figure out who he is and where he fits in the world while carrying this burden of internalizing his worthlessness.

#anyway Stede is so underrated while still being gushed over and that's a mindfuck #stede bonnet #the gentleman pirate #edward teach #ed teach #blackbeard #gentlebeard #blackbonnet #ed x stede #our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd season 2 #ofmd s2

[theriverbeyond]

can we hear about your gideon eyes tinfoil hat theory 🥺 i love to think unhinged thoughts

THANK YOU FOR ASKING also i had an entire essay typed up for you and tumblr lost the draft. apologies because this re-do is Definitely Worse

my unhinged theory is this: Gideon has, and has always had, a fragment of Alecto's soul inside her, that lay somewhat dormant until it was "activated" by Harrow consuming her soul (and thereby also consuming the Alecto fragment).

bear with me: we know Harrow began to be haunted when a fragment of Alecto escaped into Harrow when she kissed her in the tomb at age 10. Harrow's individual fragment wasn't enough for the Body-vision to have sentience OR for her to, as a child, be sending out "I'm here!" signals that were trackable by the other RBs, so they were basically just hanging out.

HOWEVER. when Harrow ate Gideon's soul, two things happenened: 1) Alecto/The Body started speaking to her, protecting her, gained enough coherence to eventually becoming Nona, etc and 2) Harrow became a becon for the RBs, specifically Number 7, who immediately turned towards her to make a beeline to the Mithraeum.

This makes me think that Lyctorhood "activated" the Alecto-fragment in a certain way, and it makes sense to ME that the trigger would be that fragment getting bigger, via Harrow taking up Gideon's soul (including whatever fragments Gideon herself was carrying)

"evidence" (wild speculating) for Gideon having Alecto's soul under the cut!

1. the gold eyes

in these books, eye color is explicitly linked to what soul is in what body. this is a heavily important plot mechanic throughout every single book - it feels "off" for Gideon's eye color to be the ONLY time in the entire series where eye color means "genetics" and not "soul".

Gideon does not have a normal human eye color. the color is described as like an egg yolk & gold coins, and no human eye color reaches even close. This is further evidenced by how when Augustine and Mercymorn saw Gideon in Harrow's eyes, they thought Alecto had woken up. pre-NtN, this made more sense as The Body was assumed by the fandom to look somewhat like Harrow. post-NtN, we know that Harrow and Alecto looked *absolutley* nothing alike, and therfore these eyes are not fucking normal, they're weird enough that if you see them you automatically assume "8 ft tall Barbie Doll Alecto Woke Up" even when the body you are presented with is 5 foot nothing with black hair.

"Lipochrome... recessive" does not make sense even for the most basic understanding of genetics, which I am assuming is what is happening here - eye color genetics can get really complicated but colloquial understanding is that recessive genes present themselves when BOTH parents are carriers. John had gold eyes because Alecto chose him, but.... how would Wake be a carrier for what is basically Alecto's stigmata? it makes NO sense for Wake to be a carrier of the Alecto-specific, egg yolk kind of eyes

2. the emission

John and Alecto's souls are inherently linked. rather than being two seperate souls, they are more like two parts of continuous whole -- John hid himself in Alecto, and he hid Alecto in him. it's not even two puzzle pieces they are just layered over and continuous with each other

John, then, would very reasonable "pass on" a part of Alecto when he, ah. well. you know. blew a big load.

maybe the Holy Emission carried soul fragments, is what I'm saying

3. the two hander

Occam's razor posits that Gideon likes the two hander and is good at it because she is cool and buff and it was the option presented to her. BUT!!!

Nona instinctivly knows how to hold a two handed sword. Alecto has a greatsword with her in the tomb. Gideon uses a two hander. idk makes u think!!

#tlt meta #tlt thoughts #anyway THANKS FOR UR PATIENCE ANAON... #ANON* #its been 84 years since i got this ask #ask #anon #i love to speculate wildly

[fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic]

Good Omens Fic Rec: Like Best Friends Do

As usual, Crowley had decided to open his mouth before thinking about what exactly it was that he was about to let spill forth from it. As a result of this, unsurprisingly, he was now in a spot of hot water. Boiling water. Possibly water so hot that it had gone ahead and become some kind of pyroclastic steam. At least Aziraphale could usually be relied upon to take pity on him. This was a big ask though, even by Crowley's please-let-me-keep-empty-aerosol-cans-in-your-cellar-it's-nothing-illegal-I-swear standards. This was, without a doubt, a bigger ask than the aerosol cans.

Length: 21,095 words

AO3 Rating: Explicit/Spice Level 🔥🔥🔥🔥

Best for: Mostly Safe in Public, Fake Relationship, Human AU

Triggers: None

Read it here, fic by LittleLynn

*Minor Spoilers* If you like pretend boyfriends, oh boy, this will hit that spot! Crowley's family keeps bugging him about his love life, and for once, he wants to avoid those questions during their holiday. They already know and love his best friend Aziraphale, and there's no one he's more comfortable with, so telling his family they're dating seems like a super logical move! Of course, it's a little silly, but that's part of the charm of the trope isn't it? Aziraphale and Crowley have such a beautifully warm chemistry together. I love all their dialogue and how casually intimate they are. I liked it even more when they became explicitly intimate, but all their casual touching is so sweet. It’s just second nature to them.

The one thing that I feel I need to mention, though, it wasn't a problem for me, but Crowley has a completely different background than we are used to in this fandom. A completely new family life that does not tie back to Hell whatsoever. For me personally, I liked the blank slate; it felt a little refreshing to read something completely unique. But I could see some people not enjoying that choice if you want human AUs to parallel as close to canon as possible. So your mileage may vary on that part, but his characterization is still there. Overall, a very fun story that will have you blushing and giggling over their charm and denial. Safe in public up until towards the end! And oooooh that scene was really good!

Read it here, fic by LittleLynn

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfic #fanfic rec #aziracrow #good omens fic rec #aziraphale x crowley #Like Best Friends Do #LittleLynn #four flames #human au #fake relationship #mostly safe in public #pick me up

[captainswanapproved]

Unpopular Opinion About That Scene in the context of Daemon's arc and Daemon x Rhaenyra's relationship - It Doesn't Matter

This will not win me any support, but here is my take on the confrontation scene.

Stans and Antis alike are all overreacting. I don't expect any different from the antis, but my friends and fellow stans of Daemon and Rhaenyra, the scene actually not a big deal.

In fact, in the greater context of the show, the "choking" doesn't matter at all.

Now, before all of you jump down my throat, your dislike of the scene is absolutely justified.

When we consume media, we bring our own personal experience into the consumption. If you felt triggered or uncomfortable by the scene, that is absolutely valid. If you want to forget it ever happened, that is valid. If you want to rave against the show runners because they included it, that is absolutely valid.

But I am going to try to analyze it objectively

Every one of Daemon's actions was, in my eyes, perfectly in character. From the moment Rhaenys arrived and announced Viserys' death, you could see the pain and devastation on his face.

He is certain, mistakenly so, that the Greens killed Viserys themselves. That is is BROTHER. The only person aside from Rhaenyra and his children that he loves. He believes his enemies have killed the king and stolen the Iron Throne.

He accuses Rhaenys of inaction, and he feels betrayed by his kin. Yet, he follows Rhaenyra's lead and does not accuse the Velaryons of treason.

Then Rhaenyra goes into labor.

Everyone knows that this will not end well. There is nothing Daemon can do about the outcome of the birth. What he can do is shore up their defenses and make plans so his wife and his Queen will be prepared to strike against their enemies when the time comes.

Also, he is in incredible pain himself, traumatized by Laena's disastrous birth, and probably his mother's too. And he is a man of action. He cannot just sit at his wife's side as the enemies are closing in. It is not in his nature. He HAS to act.

Yes, he sort of dismisses Jace coming to the Black Council with orders not to act. But he does not explicitly go against Rhaenyra's command. Instead, he does what he can do without flying with Caraxes to get the crucial support in the Riverlands.

He makes certain that the knights swear their allegiance to the Queen and her son. He shows Jace the true meaning of loyalty.

At Visenya's funeral & the coronation, his only focus is Rhaenyra. He is by her side at every moment. He is her strength. He places the crown on her head, kneels before her and calls her his queen.

Then we come to the bridge. He awaits Rhaenyra's arrival. He does not take matters into his own hands. and strike against Otto, even though he is sure that Otto murdered his brother and knows that the Hightowers stole his wife's throne.

When he snaps and wants to have the pleasure of killing Otto himself, Rhaenyra orders him to stop, and he does! He puts aside his own anger and lust for vengeance and puts down his sword. She is his queen and he obeys her.

Then we are in the council again. Daemon's wish for war and Rhaenyra's wish for peace is the main conflict between Daemon and Rhaenyra this episode.

He is frustrated with what he views as her vain hope for peace. Rhaenyra send everyone out of the council chamber.

Daemon is understandably angry.

But the thing of it is: Rhaenyra curbs his worst impulses, and I would argue that she always has. She expresses her reasons for wanting to hold the realm together.

He sees this as weakness, but as the viewer, we are made to understand that it is a different kind of strength.

I have seen Daemon be called an abuser, a wife beater, a monster and more. None of these are accurate.

He is at his breaking point and he grabs Rhaenyra, but it is not to hurt her. It is to make her come to her senses.

If he wanted to hurt her, he would have grabbed her with both hands, crushed her windpipe, and incapacitated her. He has the strength to do it, but he doesn't. He says that is brother is weak and foolish to believe in dreams. Also he is realizing that his brother never saw him as a true heir.

For a man who has been chasing his brother's approval his whole life, that is absolutely devastating!

Then he lets go, because Rhaenyra is not fighting back, she is not coming to her senses as she wishes he would.

And now, we come to why the choking doesn't matter.

It doesn't matter because of Rhaenyra's reaction. She is not disgusted with him. She is not truly hurt. She smirks and mocks him.

He walks away.

Now to the aftermath, further establishing that this does single action does not matter in the context of Daemon and Rhaenyra's relationship.

Corlys asks where Daemon is.

Rhaenyra has not told anyone, because she doesn't view it as an act of violence or treason against her. If she wanted to, she could have had him locked away or killed for laying hands on her. But she has already forgiven him.

She knows that he is occupied with going to awaken Vermithor. Because of course she does. I am sure someone told her. She's the Queen, and she knows what each of her councillors are doing.

Daemon still is not moving against Rhaenyra's orders. He is shoring up their forces because he knows this will come to war in the end. He knows that something will happen to force Rhaenyra to give up her hope for peace.

Now we reach the end. Daemon goes to Rhaenyra and tells her of Luke's death. He comforts her and she accepts his comfort.

They were divided, and they will surely disagree again. But Luke's death forces Rhaenyra to realize that peace is impossible. The Greens killed her son.

She said she didn't want to deal the first strike of this war.

Aemond dealt the first blow by killing her son who went to Storm's End as a messenger.

We see the fire in her eyes.

Now I will address the Inside the episode.

No one addresses the choking because IT DOESN"T MATTER. It won't be addressed. It has no bearing on Daemon and Rhaenyra's relationship going forward.

What matters is the clash between Daemon's wish for war and revenge and Rhaenyra's hopes to hold the Realm together because of the Song of Ice and Fire and because of her wish to not rule a kingdom of ash and bone.

But in Season 2, that dream of peace will be gone. Rhaenyra and Daemon will be on the same page again.

I still think Rhaenyra will be the one to restrain Daemon from his worst impulses. And even if he doesn't exactly follow her orders, he won't explicitly disobey them. Above all, he is loyal to Rhaenyra, even during the worst moments of his life.

Do I wish they had included more of Daemon's scenes? Of course I do. Matt is phenomenal.

Do I like that he took Rhaenyra's throat? No. But I understand it. And objectively speaking it is in character.

This is not being treated as abuse or violence against Rhaenyra in the context of the show.

And I honestly think the show runners and Matt and Emma will not address it. Because in the context of the greater story, IT DOESN'T MATTER.

You can argue all you want that it was rushed and OOC. In media, there is no one correct interpretation. Was it the best writing choice? No.

Do I hate Daemon and believe he is the worst character in the show and that Daemon and Rhaenyra stopped loving each other? Absolutely not.

Do I think many of the stans are overreacting? Yes. But you are entitled to your feelings and opinions.

What I'm saying is that that I believe it will not be addressed in the show moving forward, and because of that, it doesn't really matter.

If you disagree with me, that's fine, but like all of you, I am entitled to my opinions and interpretations.

Daemon and Rhaenyra still have the strongest relationship of the show. And I am excited to see them burn together and commit war crimes in Season 2.

#daemon x rhaenyra #daemyra #hotd spoilers #hotd meta #daemon targaryen

[leanleather]

Peach Whiskey, Chapter 1

Summary: Y/N is the daughter of a saloon owner. On what should be a typical shift, a group of cowboys wander in. The leader of said group is Elvis Presley, a man with a reputation for his quick temper and even quicker trigger finger. Word Count: 1.9k

Author’s Note: I was deeply inspired by A Whole Man is Hard to Find, an absolutely gorgeous peace by my now favorite author, @aconflagrationofmyown​. That being said, my knowlegde of the time period is nowhere near as good as Marina’s in that fic. I will be doing more and more research as this fic goes on, but for now I am relying on memory, movies, and Red Dead Redemption (hey, I love cowboys, ok?). This takes place in like the early 1800′s in a little made up town, but I picture it being like Rhodes from RDR2, so we’ll just say it’s in Georgia (my apologies to any from Georgia because I feel like I’m gonna butcher my knowledge of the state). Also I couldn’t find like an actual word for the leader of a cowboy posse? The only one I saw was sheriff so we will roll with it. I haven’t written a series in a LONG time, so bear with me please.

Warnings: Period typical violence, swearing, guns, death threats (not directed toward Y/N), unwanted and uncomfortable flirting, sexual references (nothing explicitly NSFW), use of the word “daddy” (in reference to an actual father, this is the old south y’all), cowboys, mentions of robbery & murder, jeez this isn’t looking good for just the first chapter, mentions of prostitution, family issues, mentions of kidnapping, not proofread lol

Your daddy had shook his head when you asked to work a couple of hours at The Silver Spur. It had been nearly a fortnight since the incident that made him remove you in the first place. Piggish men deep in their glass just couldn’t keep their tongue still, you had learned. Luckily your daddy had stepped in and escorted the man out, effectively suspending you in the process.

Yet here you stood, leaning against the wooden bar, diligently cleaning a glass with a well-worn cloth. It was a slow night--the occasional customer wandering in and sitting down to get piss fucking drunk--but you didn’t mind. Any citizen of  Lynnburn or wandering stranger could plant their soul in the saloon.

Lynnburn wasn’t a big town, housing no more than five-thousand and seven hundred residents. To any stranger it would have seemed nothing more than a dusty place with poor folks. That was the facade the town was lucky to have, keeping lush farmland hidden within the woods nearby. Corn was what kept the people fed and paid along with the yearly cattle sale. Horse shows had begun to turn a profit in the confines of the town’s stables, but it had only just started to gain the attention of outsiders. It both excited and worried Lynnburn natives. The Silver Spur drew in wanderers from all over the wooded state of Georgia. Your father’s well-known peach whiskey attracted all sorts of folks--most of which being shady business men looking to snatch farming land, or men passing through on their way to the big city.

One of those shady business men was sat at the end of the bar, nursing a drink in his sweaty palms, his eyes baring directly at your body. You paid him no mind as you continued your work. The consistent hum of patrons suddenly hushed, a rhythmic k'duh sound slicing through. Your eyes shifted as the glass was quickly abandoned beneath the counter of the bar. Plastering on a smile, your voice came out soaked in honey. “Hello, what can I get ya?” Finally the men came into view, and by god, the middle man was so pretty.

He had what could only be described as the face of a young adonis. A fine beau with soft, tanned skin covering a toned but equally soft body. The raven black hair pulled the focus to his eyes, bluer than the sky on an autumn day. But you recognized his face for another reason, one that made your hands tremble a bit.

The man and his companions filled the remaining seats at the bar. He pulled the hat off of his head and rested it on the counter. “Hi, honey. We’ll all just be havin’ whiskey, on me.” You gave a nod in response and started pouring the spirit. A few drops slid down the side of the glass, a soft apology leaving your lips.

“I’m so sorry Mr. Presley.” You sat the glass in front of him. Elvis Presley was sitting in your father’s saloon. The same man who had a hand in removing a whole gang from Lynnburn and stolen their loots, blood staining his hands and perhaps his soul, was now asking you for a drink. The cowboy let out a soft chuckle, his calloused hands wrapping around your own.

“You’re alright, darlin’. Ain’t none of us degenerates gon’ hurt you.” Elvis cooed. The skin on your face felt so hot, whether it was out of fear, embarrassment, or flattery, you weren’t sure. His friends gave agreeing nods or laughs of their own, the other patrons in the saloon melting back into their own conversations. “In fact, as long as we’re drinkin’ here, your safety is our priority.” He smiled at you--a big, toothy grin--and you could feel your stomach twist.

It wasn’t long before you had given out the rest of the drinks to his buddies--who you had learned were named Jerry, Sonny, Robert (who they called Red), and Scotty. They had been gentlemanly to you as soon as Elvis gave the word. For a moment, you were sure that the night would go on and end normally.

But that business man could only hold his tongue for so long. He was near red in the face when you approached to take his empty glass. “Sweet thing, how much would a man need to offer to get a night with you?” He rasped. You had to stop yourself from boiling over, instead choosing to stiffen and move away.

“I never.” You practically hissed. Before the man could part his lips to retort, another voice cut through.

“That’s enough. Leave the lady alone.” Elvis sneered. He was standing now, moved closer to the business man with his hands curled down by his sides. The gaggle of men he’d arrived with also focused on the situation with fierce snarls. “Why don’t you just pay your tab n’ go on home, huh?” The distinct click of a revolver hammer followed. A ghostly hue washed over the now disgruntled patron as he dug in his pockets, producing some silver coins and hastily setting them on the counter before rising and hurriedly shuffling out of your father’s business.

Your eyebrows remained raised in surprise. “Thank you, Mr. Presley, but you didn’t have to do that. Usually they take the hint after the first couple times.” You snatched the glass left by the offending male, cleaning it and shoving it below the counter. It was a lie. They didn’t stop, only kept perusing until they lost interest and paid a prostitute, or your father made an appearance and forced them to leave. You were silently thankful that a man with a violent reputation had chosen to have mercy on you that night. Though, you had never heard such things about the Presley gang--who you had heard called the Mephis Mafia by town-goers, on according that the men involved had moved from Memphis, in whispers at the general store or in the corner of the saloon--ever doing anything like that to a woman. But just because nobody thought a person could do something didn’t mean that they wouldn’t. It was a hard truth your mother had sowed in your brain. Love few, and trust even less.

Elvis nodded his head slightly, scooting the coins down to you and moving back to his seat. “I only regret that men speak to you that way. ‘Specially pigs like that, though that’s a dishonor to the swine.” Scotty laughed, swallowing down the last of his drink. “But like I said, nobody’s gon’ talk to ya like that when we’re here. Swear it.” The man looked back to his friends and received grumbled agreeances. “And please, call me Elvis. Mr. Presley is my daddy.” That boyish smile made a reappearance, as if he hadn’t just threatened to paint the walls with the blood of another human being. It was sickening in a way--but, it had been in your favor. Elvis looked to the swinging doors, shaking his head softly and stretching. “Well honey, we best be goin’. Never did get yer name though.” It wasn’t a question. Not a ‘could I know your name’? It was almost a demand, but delivered much more gently. “It’s Y/N McCane, sir.” You returned his smile. You swiftly collected the empty glasses together. “Though I suspect you may know my brother, Teddy. He’s always runnin’ around town helpin’ folks with something.” Knowingly, Elvis leaned in.

“I do, actually. Good kid. Tried to recruit him a couple ‘a times, but he said your daddy wouldn’t want our blood money.” The blood running through you froze. The cowboy had been such a gentlemen before, but you couldn’t help the suspicion rising in you that it may have been a threat. “Relax, honey. Told ya. We ain’t that bad. Tell ya what,” Elvis leaned back to look at Jerry and cocked an eyebrow, the other man shrugging, “why don’t you come out to our ranch tomorrow? You can see what we’re really about.“ Shit. There’s no way your family would let you go out there. But, what harm could it do? “It will have to be after church, Mr. Pre- Elvis. Just...just meet me there.” You breathed quietly. The man across from you took your hand again, placing a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“Great. We’ll see you then. Come on boys, we got chores to wrap up!” Elvis reached into his pocket, pulling out what you quickly noticed was far too much money and setting it down. He left you no time to object before he ushered his posse out. Your elbows lifted to rest on the counter, your head landing in your hands with a sigh.

Once you’d closed The Silver Spur for the night, you hobbled up the stairs to your family’s abode, your stomach rumbling as you caught the smell of your momma’s cooking. You made no attempt to do anything but sit in the chair at the dining table. As you sat and locked hands with your family, your mother said grace and that was that. Not a word was spoken between mouthfuls. That was, until your father spoke. “How was work, Y/N?” It had startled you, nearly making you choke on the roasted chicken in your mouth.

“Mm, it was fine.” You replied as you wiped your face. The fork in your hand jabbed at the food on the plate. Your mind was at war with your mouth and it was unsure which would win. “Oh, uhm, Elvis Presley stopped in. Wanted me to visit his ranch.” The words spilled out of you so fast you’d barely avoided cutting yourself off with another mouthful of food.

Your father, however, became downright stiff. His utensils were abandoned on the table. “You let Elvis Presley convince you to visit his home? Good god...” Fingers grasped at the bridge of his nose. “You’ll be lucky if he doesn’t fucking kidnap you now that he knows where to find you. What were you thinking?” He chastised. You dared not look at him, instead meeting the eyes of Teddy. His expression was sympathetic. He knew they weren’t completely awful, but his lips remained tight.

“Daddy, he ain’t that bad. Defended my damn honor and paid me more than enough for his buddies’ drinks.” You retorted, finishing your food. Long ago had you tired of his over-protectiveness. “I am grown. I can go where I please, when I please. I appreciate you wanting to keep me safe, but just this once, please trust me.” It was pleading. Even a man as stoic as your father couldn’t resist giving in.

He let out a deep breath. “Fine. But please, take your gun? And at the first sign of anything going down, get the fuck outta there. Hear me?” You nodded excitedly. That was your cue to retire for the night, saying your goodnights to the family before heading to the room you and your brother shared. Laying in bed, you could not still your thoughts. Maybe you would ride along side the gang, hooves thundering beneath you, free as the hawks that soared the farmland looking for mice. Or maybe your father would be right, maybe you’d end up in a room in the middle of nowhere, praying for the same mercy shown to you tonight. All you could do was wait, hope, and make sure your gun was tucked into the garter on your thigh.

#elvis x reader #elvis imagine #cowboy!elvis #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley imagine #cowboy elvis #Peach Whiskey fanfic #period piece #Peach Whiskey

[t-n-c]

The sexual/sensual coding in Aaravos and Viren's interactions: The Sequel

Also known as "Why I don't like the revelation in s5."

Trigger warning--This discussion is going to mention manipulation/coercion, homophobic stereotypes, and sexually-charged abusive/invasive behavior under the read more so please proceed with caution.

Alrighty so before I start talking about tdp s5's major reveal in the Viren + Aaravos relationship I'd like to discuss the interactions they had with each other before and after the reveal and my thoughts on them. Here we go:

First thing I'd like to note is that Aaravos is still showing the creepy, invasive behavior that concerned me in my original post. Throughout the scene he and Viren share he:

Touches Viren

Invades Viren's space

And manipulates/controls Viren's body

And in addition to controlling Viren's body, we've also find out that Aaravos can straight up move Viren's very soul if he wants.

And like I addressed in my previous post, he does all of this without asking for Viren's permission and/or showing any care for Viren's wishes--hell, he explicitly ignores Viren when the latter says he doesn't want to be in the prison with him.

That being said, these actions alone aren't the most concerning issue for me; that isn't to say that they're not concerning to me all, but it's nothing that hasn't been done before in their relationship--it's nothing new is what I'm trying to say.

However, the revelation about Sir Sparklepuff being their child is new--and imo it adds a whole new level of creepiness to the relationship.

Allow me to rehash what went down a bit:

Aaravos reveals to Viren that in order for his resurrection to be permanent, he needs to preform a spell that requires the "blood of his child"--Viren protests and claims that he'd never sacrifice his children.

Aaravos responds that he never expected him to hurt Claudia or Soren and reveals that he has a third child he can use--

Viren is confused and claims he doesn't have any other children--then Aaravos reveals that Sir Sparklepuff is his and Aaravos' child

He tells Viren that Sir Sparklepuff is there for him to use for the spell and that he will teach Viren how to use his "living essence" to reclaim both his life and his "future."

There's a lot (and I mean A LOT) of things about this scene/reveal that worry me; I'll try to sum it up neatly, but it's probably going to be pretty lengthy regardless. Here we go:

Concern 1) Viren had no idea that Sir Sparklepuff with his child, but Aaravos did

No matter how many angles I try to see it from, this feels violating to me; considering how Viren didn't know what the spell would do and how desperate he was at the time, his willingness to perform the original spell is dubious enough already--to then have it revealed that the spell produced a child that's biologically his really disturbs me. It might just be my opinion, but I feel that it adds a level of predatory to Aaravos that's unnecessary at best and horrifying at worst.

Concern 2) The lengths Aaravos has gone to keep Viren alive (and presumedly on his side).

This includes:

a) Telling Claudia the spell that would resurrect Viren.

b) Preserving Viren's body for 2 years while Claudia gathered everything necessary

c) When they first met, he chose a spell that would create a being that would not only allow them to communicate, but could also be used to resurrect Viren if the need arose.

Now assuming the writers planned this all from the beginning (I have my doubts, ngl) this shows a great deal of effort and premeditation on Aaravos's part to make sure Viren sticks around--whatever his plans may be, Viren must play a pretty big role in them or else he would have just moved on when Viren died the first time. (It's either that or he has some strange sort of fondness for Viren, which leads me to Concern # 3)

Concern 3) As of now, we have absolutely no info about how their relationship is going to be portrayed going forward

While Viren's fate is a bit ambiguous at the end of s5, I'm 90% confident that he's going to live through s6 in one way or another and assuming I'm right and that happens, there are a few paths the writers could take in how they depict the relationship

Option A) They sweep everything under the rug and pretend the sexual coding in the relationship never existed.

Option B) They portray Aaravos as a complete monster who was just using Viren for one thing or another and has now discarded him since he got what he wanted from him.

Option C) They portray Aaravos as having some dark sort of attachment to Viren--one that won't allow him to let Viren "leave him"

All these possibilities are iffy imho, but I'm honestly not sure which would be worse.

Going with Option A feels lazy--like the writers don't want to deal with the dark themes they chose to put in and decided to take the easy out.

(Granted, it wouldn't be the first time the show has dropped important plot points/developments--no one seems to have found out that Viren and Aaravos sent the assassins at the end of s2, for example--but it would still feel cowardly to me)

Going with Options B or C both feel gross--with Option B it feels like Aaravos would be the epitome of the Predatory Queer-Coded Villain--he would have effectively used and abused Viren in a violating way (i.e coerced/forced him to bear their child) and abandoned him once he was done with him. It would be pretty hard to make a case for him having a "kind side" after that.

That being said, Option C isn't really any better--Aarvos would still be following the "Predatory Villain" stereotype, the only difference would be that he'd fall more into the role of an abusive partner than the "pure evil" role that some older queer-coded villains were placed in.

TLDR: I don't like the revelation of Sir Sparklepuff being Viren and Aaravos' child because I feel it follows the reoccurring theme of possessive/violating actions from Aaravos toward Viren that I've worried about all the way back in s3.

#tdp critical #manipulation tw #coercion tw #like I said in my first post on this subject I know their relationship was never healthy #but they didn't have to go this route #to be clear this isn't me judging anybody who likes this twist or anything #I'm just giving my 2 cents #TNC analyzes cartoons #TNC theorizes #Writing this felt like being in The Twilight Zone #I started remembering all the emotions I felt after s3 was released/when I wrote Part One #It was weird but also kind of nostalgic #upcoming tags added after I mulled over my thoughts some more #if I'm honest I'm not worried ONLY about what's going to happen to Viren's character in future seasons #I'm also worried about AARAVOS'S character too--namely that he doesn't HAVE much of character outside of this relationship #we know next to nothing about him #and what we DO know feels 2-dimensional (and pretty iffy) #I'm honestly not terribly confident that they'll be able to change that and develop him too much in the 2 remaining seasons

[fernegirl]

never coming home | prologue.

↳ summary:

Summoning ghosts, fistfights, shredding on guitar, murders, running from the law, cheap motel rooms, and seeing beyond the veil of the afterlife: what would you do to keep those you love the most? For Sal Fisher, the answer is simple—he'll do whatever it takes, till the very end of the line.

A rewrite of Sally Face's ending beginning at ep. 4, in which some things are different and others are not. Sally and his friends face down the Devourers of God while struggling to hold onto their minds—and one another—despite the odds. This fic reimagines the story of SF while doing its best to remain true to the canon material in terms of lore, tonality, and plausibility.

↳ read it on ao3 here [x]

↳ parings: sally/ashley/larry, todd/neil · genre: canon-divergence/fix-it 

↳ warnings: 18+ ONLY, minors DNI + just as dark as canon, same triggers apply

series masterlist [tba] | next chapter [tba]

The longer she stands outside, her breath forming small clouds in front of her face and the rain creeping beneath the collar of her jacket, the more Ash reconsiders whether coming to this party was a good idea. Sure, at the time that she—well, her roommate—had been invited, it seemed fine. Now though…not so much. She knew it would be big, all of the ragers in the warehouse district are. The promise of live underground music, cheap beer, and substances that she couldn’t spell brings in all sorts of people. 

“Are you sure about this?” She asks, glancing over at Tara who is far more absorbed in her cellphone than the surroundings. 

She glances over at her and nods reassuringly, her blonde bangs bobbing with her head. “‘Course I am. Have I ever steered you wrong?” 

Ash bites back the quick response of ‘yes, absolutely’ but she knows nothing good will come of it. Tara’s sweet. Normal. A  regular girl dipping her toes into a world like this in the name of some boy she��s talking to and she’s bringing Ash along with her. Not that she really minds. The girl is trying. She’s always done her best to connect with her, despite their contrasting interests. Plus, she’d mentioned this being a ‘roomie send off’’ or something like that. A final epic excursion for the two of them before Ash finishes packing her worldly possessions and leaves campus. 

A viking funeral, college-girl-style. 

The gesture had been thoughtful enough to her Ash this far, out this late. Even though now it feels less worth it by the minute. 

“Come on. Didn’t I tell you about the rumors?” 

Tara had. “You did. This is some kind of underground show or something?”

Tara bobs her head again, reminding Ash of a chickadee, golden and fluffy. “Yep. No idea if it’s true or not, but Jared says heard that some band is friends with the guys that are hosting–they might make a special appearance or something.” 

“Any idea who it is?” 

“Sanitary Filth?” 

The name is awful. Perfect for the type of band that would play this venue. “Never heard of them.” 

“Me neither,” Tara shrugs. “Doors should open soon at least.” 

Her phone pings and she returns her attention to it, an excited smile on her face. It’s sweet and thankfully Jared seems to be a half decent guy. She’s happy for Tara, really. Or at the very least relieved that there’s something to distract her from Ash’s departure. 

Really, she’d give anything for the same. It’s not that she’s explicitly not looking forward to her return to Nockfell. She is. It’s been far, far too long since she saw her friends, her family. The familiar trees, cracked streets, and the distinct crooked shape of the Addison Apartments building. 

She misses it. She swears she does. 

Which doesn’t explain why every time she looks at her calendar, at the date next week, circled in red for her homecoming, a pit opens in her stomach. 

Not that she’s looking to self-analyze. No thank you. She’d rather do anything else. 

Which is exactly why she’s here, with Tara, in the pouring-ass rain at nearly midnight, waiting to get into what will no doubt be an underwhelming rock show. 

“This has got to be the stupidest thing we’ve done in a while,” a dry, familiar voice says. 

Ash shivers, skin going somehow clammier. There’s no way that it’s who she thinks it is. 

She stretches up onto her tiptoes to peer over the shoulders of the group in front of her. 

“Really?” A deeper, slightly more nasal voice replies. “Of all the things, this? Come on, man.” 

“Pneumonia no laughing matter, dipshit.” 

“Whatever you say. ’s totally worth it in my book.” 

She knows. In her heart of heart’s she already knows. To see it with her eyes is just a formality at this point because those voices are emblazoned in her memory, resurfacing in her sweetest dreams and most bone-chilling nightmares. 

The crowd shifts and she catches sight of them, her heart stuttering to what feels like a standstill. 

A tall man with long dark hair stands beside a shorter man with electric blue hair.  Fucking hell. They turn, looking at one another as they break into laughter. They’re different from the last time she saw either of them. Both are taller. Larry’s put on muscle and a bit of facial hair. She’s never seen Sally with his hair down before. His mask is the same. Still white except for the pink patched piece. It looks like there’s eyeliner smudged on it, no doubt for the show.

As if it could be anyone but the two of them. She shrinks down, slouching to ensure the crowd covers her, while her mind races to figure out why the actual fuck they’re here. 

Oh. Of course.

“Tara,” she swallows hard, and does her best to keep the shakes out of her voice. 

Tara looks up from her phone, her smile bleached bright under the streetlamp. “Any chance you got the name of the band wrong? Could it have been Sanity's Fall?” 

Her eyes light up wide with recognition. “Yes, that’s exactly what it was, how did you figure that out?” 

“Lucky guess.” 

She smiles again, and is distracted once more in moments. Not that it bothers Ashley. No, she’s grateful that she’s invisible to her soon-to-be-former roommate at this moment. Means that Tara doesn’t notice as she cranes her neck to catch another look ahead.

They don’t notice her. Why would they? The sidewalk is packed. Then again, she doubts that makes any impression on either of them. They’re laughing at a grainy picture that Larry is showing Sally on his phone, their shoulders pressed against one another. They seem…happy. Content. At least more so than the last time she’d seen them. 

Maybe this is why she doesn’t want to go back. Because even in the final days she’d been there, she could feel this…distance. A separation that she couldn’t pretend was either of their fault. 

No. It was her. She couldn’t make the leap of faith into the belief in the supernatural the way that they did. Couldn’t brush off the soul-deep terror that took root in her after she fell into that pile of bones below the apartment building. 

It wasn’t them. The boys were the same as ever. Or maybe they’d grown up. And she hadn’t grown with them, but rather away. 

Still. It’s not as though she doesn’t want to see them. Not as though she won’t go back. She will. They’ll accept her, that much she’s certain of. With warm hugs and dumb stories. Rock music, bean bag chairs, scary movies, and too-salty popcorn. 

She’s just so fucking scared that this time…it won’t feel like home. That instead of a ghost from the past haunting them, it’ll be her. Just a faded version of who she was. 

Her hands shake as she wrestles her cell phone free from her jacket. Fingers numb from the frigid rain, she finds Sal in her contacts. 

To Sally: hey, srry. can’t come back this week, xtra covers at work :( :( 

He might not buy it. She’s told them about her crappy bartending job and what a pain in the ass it is. He won’t question it though, won’t push. 

She stares at the message for a moment before hitting send. She’ll go back. She just can’t tomorrow.  

An obnoxious alert plays somewhere in front of her–a snippet of an overly-loud guitar riff that sounds like it’s been recorded on a tin can. 

She waits, breath held. Nothing good can come from this–from waiting for her message to elicit a response. There is none. Sal and Larry’s conversation about some nonsense involving Gizmo never halts.

Logically, she knows that Sal’s too polite to take out his phone while talking. He’ll check it later, and tell her that it’s alright. That it is too bad, but he’s still so excited to see her the week after. She’ll text the same thing to Larry and get an almost identical response, except with more expletives. 

Like clockwork. No, the boys hadn’t changed. So why is there a pit forming in her chest? 

“Hey, Tara?” She waves her hand in front of her phone to catch her attention. “That boy of yours was going to give you a ride back to ours right?” 

Tara nods, her plastic jewelry clicking together. “Yep, Jared’s driving me.” “Cool, then I might bounce,” Ashley rubs the back of her head, trying to shove down the guilt rising up at Tara’s disappointed expression. “Migraine has been trying to set in all day and I think going to a rock show might actually kill me.” 

Of course, because she’s a good person, Tara’s disappointment morphs into genuine concern in moments, which somehow only makes Ash feel worse. She reaches out, smoothing her hair back from her face, a habit that often makes her wonder if Tara sees her more as a cat than a roommate. 

“Of course, that’d be the worst thing for it. Jared’s almost here. I can ask him to give you a ride ba–” 

“Don’t worry, I’m alright to drive,” she says firmly. “Just don’t want it to get worse.” 

She doesn’t look fully convinced, but doesn’t bother arguing. “Alright, but promise me you’ll text me and let me know you got back safe, ‘kay?” 

“Promise.” She bumps their knuckles in a weak fistbump that makes Tara giggle. “Catch you later tonight, I expect a full report.” 

“Sounds good.” 

She turns, hurrying away from Tara before she can second guess the decision. 

Distance will make it easier–will clear her the cobwebs in her head. Sure, a migraine had been an exaggeration, but she can feel a bit of an ache in her temples that will no doubt bloom into something irritating. 

When her bike comes into view at the far side of the parking lot, it’s accompanied by a rush of relief. She really needs to name it before she sees them, or else Larry will ask and then blurt out something stupid that will stick forever. Just like how Sally’s mask got nicknamed Samuel somehow. 

For a second, she contemplates going back. She could talk to them. It’s not like they’d be anything less than thrilled. They’d hug her like old times–squeezing her so tightly that her ribs would ache–they’d ask about her haircut and her motorcycle. It could be good. 

But she can’t. Not yet. Not tonight, when the perfect moment already seemed to exist in front of her. Without her. 

She pulls her helmet on, exhaling heavily. Nothing left to do but go. 

So she kickstarts her bike and peels out of the parking lot, a little too fast, but it’s not like there are any cars to hit this late.

The rumble of the engine and the rush of the frigid air around her does a good job of driving the thoughts from her mind. 

She’ll go home again. Just not today. 

a/n: thank you for reading the first chapter! i hope you enjoyed it! reblogs are much appreciated and please let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist :3

#sally face #sally face fanfiction #sal fisher #larry johnson #ashley campbell #salash #sally x ashley #sally x larry x ashley #salarry #sal fisher headcanons #sally face fic #fernefic #fic: no requiems

[bropunzeling]

Director's commentary, anything from mattdrai soulmate AU (or future snippets!)

hello anon! gosh it's been a while since ive looked at this one; here's the early section where they are in germany and going for a little walk:

Leon harries Matthew until they’re both dressed and ready to go, grabbing a spare key from the table in the hall. The weather outside, once they get there, isn’t too bad; it’s a little brisk, but nothing that either of them can’t handle compared to an Alberta spring. Matthew still looks shivery, though, hands tucked into his sweatshirt pocket and head bowed. [poor bondsick matthew! in all seriousness figuring out how to portray bondsickness was honestly really fun - just being a pathetic lil mess until someone touches you. idk if i ever said so explicitly in the fic/fully committed, but in my head/memory as of now, i think it's one of those things that is not so much caused by physical distance but by emotional distance. they haven't figured out/reconciled their feelings = you get sick. leon leaving was just a triggering event. but the beauty of never saying so explicitly is i can't get it wrong either way lmao.]

“Hey,” Leon says, bumping Matthew with his elbow until Matthew looks up. “You okay?” he asks, feeling like a broken record, but there’s not—what else is he supposed to do? [leon just actively flailing throughout the whole of the 2022 sections was also fun. he's a demonstrative guy but it's hard to be demonstrative when you don't have a clear sense of what either of you want. also, he is not yet willing to internally acknowledge how important matthew is to him, so he's just gonna... kinda suck at it.]

“Yeah,” Matthew says flatly. There’s big purple circles under his eyes. It makes Leon think again about how badly Matthew’s taking it, much worse than how Leon’s doing. Sure, he supposes he didn’t feel great for the twenty hours they were separated by an ocean, but he also didn’t look like he’d been run over by a zamboni. [bc you are not in emotional turmoil my guy]

Leon knows, at this point, that he should know better, but he’s still not sure how exactly all of this works. Bond-sickness is a thing from romance novels and weepy made-for-TV movies, not for a couple of hockey players who are regularly a continent apart. [again because it's an emotional thing, and leon isnt ready to clue into the emotional aspects of their relationship - purposefully oblivious] Leon leaving shouldn’t have done anything, he’s pretty sure. What difference would the Atlantic make, compared to North America? [bc you ~left~ him/aren't easily accessible anymore!]

Besides, in every depiction of bond-sickness he’s seen—which was mostly the one movie Kim watched on repeat when she was thirteen, some weepfest based on a Nicholas Sparks novel that Leon got so sick of he threatened to snap the DVD in half [my favorite thing about writing aus is figuring out alternate media for aus. i love a shitty reality tv concept. i love a bad romance novel. i love an ed sheeran ballad. it's the most fun part and also is such an easy way to add color and a sense of heft to your world building.]—it always happens to both sides of the bond. He’s pretty sure that if Matthew’s sick, he should be too, or else neither of them should be. [more hinting at one-sidedness] Which—that’s something he’s not sure he wants to interrogate too closely.

“Here,” Leon says finally, pulling at Matthew’s arm until he finally manages to get at Matthew’s hand. “Let me just—”

The second his fingers wrap around Matthew’s, Leon has a sensation of realignment, like one of his joints has eased back into place. Matthew starts to look more alive, color returning to his face as he sighs with relief. It’s kind of fucked up, how much touching makes things better, but it’s kind of cool, too, that this is all it takes. [one of my fave lines! (a) i think that would be the appeal of a thing like a bond to me, that you can make each other feel better and (b) i like it as an unconscious acknowledgement on leon's part that he wants matthew to feel better. he gives a shit! it isn't really platonic anymore even if he can't see that or admit it]

“This okay?” Leon asks, darting a glance at Matthew before looking down the street.

“Yeah,” Matthew says, fingers squeezing once. “I mean—if you don’t mind.”

“Whatever will help,” Leon says, more sincerely than he means to.

Leon started their walk without any destination in mind, but it isn’t far from his parents’ new house to the west bank of the Rhine. Once they get to the river, they stop, looking out at the Rodenkirchen bridge, huge and coppery green; the trees dotting the riverbank on the opposite side; the water reflecting the bridge as it flows north. There are ducklings following their parents down through the current, people walking past with dogs and strollers or only themselves. It’s peaceful to be around other people, to hear pieces of their conversation and the rush of the river and Matthew’s steps in time with his own. [i never made it to cologne but it looks really gorgeous in pictures! love a big bridge by the river. fixes me every time]

He wonders what it’s like for Matthew, somewhere unfamiliar, where not even the background noise is the same. [there's a thing about this that like, is tricky to articulate but i'll do my best lol - when they were both in alberta, they were both far from/couldn't always go home, which is a theme i find compelling (see marriage bets) but leon is obviously more separated. and during the 2022 sections of the fic, it was fun to explore matthew as the one far from home, in an unfamiliar environment, with leon as the one fixed point. idk! it's a fun theme.]

“Want to go farther?” he offers, tugging their hands towards the river. “Not too bad right now.”

Matthew nods, fingers tightening around Leon’s. “Sure,” he says. “If you want to.”

“Yeah,” Leon says. Now that he’s looking at Matthew, it’s like he’s gotten stuck, gaze snagged on Matthew’s eyes, as clear and blue as the spring sky. [ur in love with him. hope that helps.] He has to blink hard before he can look away, back to the tree-lined path and the river ahead. “Yeah, I want to.”

They spend another half an hour walking down the river and back, until it’s too cold to continue. [i just love a romantic walk!] Then they turn down into the neighborhood, wandering streets that should be more familiar to Leon than they are. [another bit of that far from home theme; what even is home in the first place if you've spent your adult life somewhere else?] Eventually they find a café and Leon gets them coffee, more to warm their hands more than anything else. Matthew stumbles through a “Danke schön” when he takes his.

“Did you practice or something?” Leon asks, raising his eyebrows.

The tips of Matthew’s ears flush, [he has been practicing for at minimum six months and at least a year. maybe started during those summer calls. he has an irrational hatred for the duolingo owl] and he takes a long sip of coffee. Leon decides not to push. It’s just—unexpected, is all.

Eventually they find their way back to the right street. Matthew’s shivering again. Leon should’ve given him one of his heavier jackets; they’re close enough to the same size. [them being the same build is important and sexy to me] He’ll remember next time.

“You good?” he asks again.

Matthew nods, takes another sip of coffee. “This is strong,” he says, narrowing his eyes.

“I’ve been telling you, your coffee is shit,” Leon says easily, accepting the misdirection. [european coffee just is better. alas.]

“Just because you’re a snob,” Matthew retorts, and they’re back to not quite normal, but closer. When Matthew nearly shoves him off the sidewalk mid-argument, it’s practically a relief. [they will always be a little bit butting heads but in a fun flirty way :)]

#ask meme #soulbond au

[titleknown]

...I will say, I've been reading over the blogs and reblogs of @vacuouslyfalse and @tanadrin talking about how leftist movements tend to use more-radical-than-thou rhetoric in a way that leads to do-nothing-ism and becoming a sideshow with no way to recruit/create coalitions/put policy into action, and also leading to a tendency to be distressingly non-specific/naiive in terms of actual plans, and...

...Well A) It helped me realize how much a lot of the way those sorts of posters they're talking about trigger my anxiety is me filling in the blanks with the way I've been treated with contempt/neglect and B) I generally do feel the way they feel about the way that radicalism often leads to a feeling of nothing getting done and "Don't Forget, You're Here Forever" and "For Their Lives To Get Better, Yours Will Have To Get Worse," at least on an emotional, gut level

But C) think that while I agree that it's A Problem, I think they ignore why it is movements; and in particular a lot of the most marginalized groups in those movements; lean on that sort of isolating viewpoint.

Like, to give an example there's a specific paper talking about it far more coherently than "Decolonization Is Not A Metaphor" that I'll link in the notes, but reason they give for not wanting to do politics of reconciliation/coalition rather than constant antagonism/provoking discomfort is that; in their view; that means assimilation into the settler state, and with it elimination.

Now, I think vacuouslyfalse makes a decent point when they say they don't really have the numbers or power to pull off that sort of oppositional "No compromise until the US state is abolished" stance, and "constant agonism with no possibility of reconciliation" as a means of engagement like they propose has some... bad implications with regards to workability, from what even my smoothbrain can tell, but it's interesting that that fear of the prospect of elimination-through-assimilation is what leads to that perspective, and no appeal to practicality I see ever addresses that.

Which leads to my point that I think a lot of the reason that marginalized leftists adopt that sort of radical anti-collaboration/anti-systemic-engagement rhetoric really kinda is the Hedgehog's Dilemma, in that at its core, it's about the fear of being thrown under the bus by the movement by virtue of being crowded out or shoved into a paradigm fundamentally hostile to your goals.

And it's not like that fear is entirely abstract either, from what I can see it comes heavily from experience, experiences that themselves often get buried when we wonkishly focus on the unviability of their tactics/stances!

One of the most persistent anti-industrial-civilization people on here's a Gullah-Gechee person who saw their home constantly under threat by "development," and I wouldn't say that it's too far to think their radicalism comes from the fear that, under other forms of socialism, their home too would be under that same chopping block for "progress"

Or, to quote a friend's experences (with permission):

i was one of the lead organizers on a (failed) global environmental strike years ago and the reason we failed was letting liberals, well, be liberals about a strike. i have lost all hope and respect for these people and think energy would be best spent elsewhere for the most part yeah ultimately [the desire for apoliticality] was the big one [that derailed us]. i was fighting tooth and nail constantly for our stances to have even the tiniest amount of bite, and it was pushback everytime. i had to seriously argue in favor of the IWW's rules of no bosses, no cops, no landlords! for a STRIKE it was a split amongst lead organizers between people like me who were explicitly leftist and liberals. and there was a refusal to acknowledge liberals dont know how to strike and appealing to them isnt going to work like i said.. i spent way more time trying to wrangle the discord or argue with people than actually organizing im definitely glad i did it; i learned a lot about organizing and it strongly reaffirmed in me that "dont try to make your radical action group appeal to liberals" is the end-all be-all rule for organizing and just drama. always drama. a big deal was that until i became an international organizer, of the like.. 9? that there were? One Person was not white. for a global movement! i pushed hard for talk about things like environmental racism and such and got a ton of pushback for it as well it was just such a hugely broad political spectrum, and since nobody wanted to pull it in any one direction on that front.. it just sputtered out the dutch group was one we consistently had major problems w because a handful of the rly active folks there couldnt stop saying weirdly racist stuff including a beloved message i still have screenshot somewhere of "i didnt see a black person until a year ago" from somebody who was like, 25 Which like im sure was true but the context was us going "can you stop being racist please"

Said friend said "read Settlers" to me in a different discussion, so I think that probably sums up how that experience shaped him.

The point I'm trying to get at is, if we're to chide the ways radicalism and the language thereof can become isolationist/anti-solution-ist, the burden of proof is on us to demonstrate to those marginalized people how being more diplomatic/wonkish isn't going to get them screwed.

Like, as much as I hate the do-nothing malaise and more-radical-than-thou infighting I keep seeing, I feel like these discussions on how that derails leftism are going to go nowhere if they ignore the reasons why people adopt these behaviors and why it seems to be the most vulnerable/hurt that do so!

It can't just be on them to be more friendly to neglected tactics, it has to be on us to show we'll have their back against the ways they've been screwed in the name of easy pseudo-victories and ignoring tough questions!

As for how to do that... TBH I think that's its own dialectic, but one a lone person isn't equipped to do, feel free to chat about it in the replies!

#leftism #rambling #shut up titleknown

[corvus--rex]

Before I start/post anything else, I've decided to make a master list of all my ao3 fics in chronological order from the very first fic I posted. I am Klance trash, so that's all you'll find here. Note that some of them are a/b/o, those will be marked. None of these have been beta'd, so be warned

This got long, so as much as I don't want to...

Our Life in Pictures

60k, rated mature, ongoing, modern au, omegaverse, alpha Keith, omega Lance

A collection of scenes following the relationship between Keith, a tattoo artist, and Lance, the dancer who caught his attention from the dance school across the street.

☆

All I Need

25k, rated mature, modern with magic au, this one's been discontinued, but I do still like the setting so...

Five years after a traumatic event that resulted in Keith losing everything and everyone and the self-destructive spiral that followed, he accepts a job transfer to the big city. He’s in recovery and more stable than he’s been in years, but his past still haunts him. When he accidentally rescues an odd man and his cat one night, Keith finds out that not only is the guy a witch, but that so is he. Keith knows nothing of his origins, having been in the foster care system all his life. Together, they begin to unravel his true past, but at what cost?

Trigger Warning: First chapter deals heavily in trauma, self-harm, and substance abuse, off-screen character death, and fire.

☆

Incanto

3k, rated teen, modern au, inspired by Mediaeval Baebes, this has been placed in a medically-induced hiatus

Keith and Lance had a major falling out just before graduating college over their career directions. Keith wanted to leave home to teach in another state, Lance wanted him to stay with Incanto, the six-member choir they'd started in high school. A year after graduation, and Keith is back home. He's rejoining Incanto and his friends. And maybe he might be able to finally admit how he really feels about his best friend.

☆

Dormiveglia, that precious space

18.8k, rated teen, ongoing, canonverse, not canon compliant, omegaverse, alpha Keith, omega Lance, set just after s2e8 The Blade of Marmora

Dormiveglia - the space between sleeping and waking

Lance hated being an omega.  He'd always hated his secondary sex status.  It followed him everywhere, up to and including the Garrison.  Now he was in space, and it had followed him there as well.  It seemed that Alteans, Galra, and most other races also had the alpha-omega traits and that it wasn't limited to humans.  And so, Lance's omega status had followed him into space, and there was nothing he could do about it.  It also didn't help that he'd fallen hard for a certain alpha.

He didn't know that that certain alpha was falling for him too.

Or that he may never live to see those feelings realized.

☆

Here Come the Vultures

7.9k, rated teen, ongoing, band au, omegaverse, alpha Lance, omega Keith

Castle of Lions was a hugely successful European-styled metal band. The only problem was the part where Keith Kogane, the band's vocalist, was an omega. It was a necessary secret, given how society viewed male omegas, and one that the band and their label swore to keep. But just how long can it stay a secret?

☆

The Sound of Color

4.5k, rated teen, ongoing, soulmate au, omegaverse, alpha Lance, omega Keith

Lance is a 21-year-old college student and Alpha, working hard on a music degree. He has a circle of friends he loves and who love him, the only problem is that they've all found their soulmates and he hasn't. Most people have found theirs by then, and he's worried he never will. But an end-of-semester party may change that.

☆

Play Date

280 words, rated general, post-canon, one of only 2 that aren't explicitly klance, this one's actually zezor, but the klance can always be assumed

Based off this Tumblr prompt: Zethrid attempts to surprise Ezor with something special

☆

Someone to Talk to

596 words, rated general, canonverse, not canon compliant, just Pidge and Shiro

Based on this Tumblr prompt: One of the paladins has a queer crisis. Shiro to the rescue.

Or, Pidge has something to say and turns to Shiro for support.

☆

The Summer of the Moving Vans

651 words, rated general, modern au, childhood friends-to-lovers

Based on this Tumblr prompt: Childhood!AU Keith and Lance are next door neighbors - until a moving van shows up one day.

Lance and Keith were best friends. The summer after second grade proved eventful with a stream of moving vans all vacation. Looking back on it ten years later, they talk about just how life changing it was.

☆

Paladins on Ice

708 words, rated general, canonverse, not canon compliant, team shenanigans

Based on this Tumblr prompt: When Allura finally gets the door to the training deck unlocked, she’s surprised to find that it’s been temporarily repurposed into an ice rink, and that someone is a talented ice skater…

The Paladins are up to something, Allura wants to know what it is, and when she finds out, she learns that one of them has an unexpected talent.

☆

Why is it Always you?

2.5k, rated general, college au, coming out, title's bc something something every universe, something something every reality

Based on this Tumblr prompt: When Lance has some internal questions about his orientation, Keith surprises him by being there to offer support.

A snowstorm shuts down Lance’s college, and he finds his thoughts drifting to one of his oldest friends and feelings he can’t make sense of.

☆

Julance Prompts 2021

33k, rated teen-explicit, various aus, some are omegaverse, alpha Keith, omega Lance, and also alpha Lance, omega Keith

Most of the prompts will be from my own AUs, with the title after the prompt in the list. Rating and tags will be in the top notes of each chapter/one shot, please remember to check them as they will change. Also note, most are abo/omegaverse. The ones that aren't will be tagged as such.

02 - Musician au - Here Come the Vultures 03 - Blue Paladin - Dormiveglia 04 - Allura & Lance - Crystal Venom rewrite 06 - Catboy - mafia/assassin au 07 - AU of choice - Cyberpunk 12 - Fashion - model au 15 - Paranormal/Magic - modern magic au

☆

This is Why I Said Yes

131 words, rated general, post canon, just pure fluff

Post-war married domestic fluff starring Klance!

☆

Klancetober 2021

7.7k, rated teen-mature, various aus, some are omegaverse, alpha Lance, omega Keith

01 - college/coffee/party - How You Like That

02 - supernatural/magic/nighttime - Core Burn

03 - cold/autumn leaves/rain - Autumn

04. festival/pumpkins/haunted house – This is Halloween

☆

Yule Magic

914 words, rated general, magic au

Lance hasn't been back in his home town for very long and promised his best friend Hunk that he'd come by the Golden Lion Bakery soon. He was expecting to see what they'd done after renovating, he wasn't expecting a new member of staff. Yule was a time for magic, and this was no exception.

☆

If I Didn't Know Better

715 words, rated teen, canonverse, not canon compliant

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were about to kiss me."

Keith's frustration with the war spills over into his sparring session with Lance, whose attempt at breaking the tension does not go the way he planned.

☆

Bonfires and Flower Crowns

1.6k, rated general, magic au, sequel to Yule Magic

Two months after first meeting, Lance and Keith are pretty seriously dating, but haven't taken the next step of making their relationship official. Imbolc marks the traditional start of spring. Maybe a change of seasons is nudge they need to make that shift

☆

Player 3 is Waiting to Join

1.6k, rated general, modern au, omegaverse, alpha Lance, omega Keith

Omega Keith is a streamer/youtuber, and he and Lance are getting ready for their first child. This is just a few minutes of fluff during their day, plus a surprise present.

☆

Food & Family

1.2k, rated general, post canon, not canon compliant

"Keith attempts to cook. The results are surprising."

After the war, Keith thinks back to when, at age 12, he found himself alone for the afternoon and decided to take care of his lack of after-school snacks on his own and what happened as a result.

☆

The Bonding Moment™: Part 2

526 words, rated general, canonverse, Keith is a dumbass but we knew that

We all know The Bonding Moment™. We know what happened and how Lance then denied its very existence. But there's the part we didn't get to see. Keith's disaster gay meltdown later on…

☆

The Marmoran's New Clothes

385 words, rated general, canonverse, not canon compliant

"With much hesitation, Kolivan agrees to try dressing in Earth clothes."

Kolivan had resisted the idea of even trying to wear human clothing, but a trip to the mall later, and Lance, Keith, and Krolia are beginning to regret suggesting it.

Unlike the Emperor, this outfit isn’t made of air and wishful thinking. But to the three witnesses to this catastrophe, it might actually have been an improvement.

☆

Listen and You Can Hear the Ocean

2.2k, rated teen, college au sort of, mermaid au

After years of dreaming of the ocean, Keith heads off to university to pursue marine biology. A chance encounter with a familiar stranger shows him a past he'd long forgotten and the future they can forge together.

☆

Red Blood & Blue Violets

8.1k, canonverse, not canon compliant at all, this was an exercise in pain, two endings, one good, one not so much, there's Keith/oc in chapter 3, be advised that I am now attached to this oc and he will be coming back

Based off this Tumblr prompt: "Please don't go"

Keith and Lance had become feared by Galra soldiers across the known universe for their flawless fighting style, the seasoned pair regularly taking down many times their small number alone. Until now. He’d failed. They always had each other’s backs, and he’d failed.

☆

A Different Kind of Sunset Scene

990 words, rated teen, post canon, not canon compliant, it's got they/them trans enby Lance

Based on this Tumblr prompt: “Lance talks Keith into taking a break from work to go for a sunset stroll.”

Keith was supposed to be taking a break. As in, not working 12-18 hours a day. But even away from the field, leading the Blades was a lot of work. He’d sworn – promised, even – that the diplomatic bureaucracy for the day shouldn’t have taken any more than a few hours. But that was what he’d said at breakfast at 8 in the morning. It was nearing sunset, and he’d barely taken a minute away for lunch. Ok, if he wouldn’t do it himself, his loving husband would have to do it for him.

☆

One Last Hunt

4.4k, rated mature, ongoing, college au, with witch Lance and [REDACTED] Keith, and ghosties and other critters

Lance practiced magic. The real stuff, not this new age shit. It's why he got into ghost hunting with Hunk and Pidge. Everything he knew came from books; hopefully meeting ghosts and spirits would teach him something new.

Pidge has a surprise for them for Halloween. Two surprises actually. One is going to the most haunted property in the area on the night in question. The other is that she invited campus cryptid Keith Kogane. Everyone knows who he is, but no one actually knows him. Everything about him is just slightly off in a way that no one can quite put their finger on, and it seems that he knows something about the haunted estate.

Getting closer to Keith on Halloween will definitely be an interesting experience. What does he know that he's not telling? Is he even human? Lance knows it's possible, but not even he's prepared for the truth.

☆

Keith Kogane, Snake Whisperer

1.5k, rated teen, canonverse, not canon compliant, danger noodles are friend-shaped

While on a mission to secure an alliance for the Coalition, Team Voltron find themselves deep inside the cave system below the surface of the planet Vuria. They're there to retrieve an artifact sacred to the Vurians' ancestors. They weren't expecting an encounter with the planet's wildlife. But it's fine, Keith's got it covered.

☆

A Candidate for a Soulmate Bled

1.9k, rated mature, ongoing, soulmate au, musician Keith, bartender Lance, first words soulmarks (sorry Lance)

Lance tried not to look at the words on the inside of his left wrist. Ever since they first showed up on his thirteenth birthday he tried to look at them as little as possible. The first words he would hear from his soulmate, sitting there in their own handwriting in neat, sharp script: slittin’ my throat it’s all I ever Lance has worried about those words for ten years, especially now that his soulmark is beginning to bloom red...

#my writing #ao3 #keith kogane #lance mcclain #keith x lance #klance #vld #voltron #voltron legendary defender #updated with the new one

[sapphosewrites]

It's time again for my one true love... an ask game. Thank you for the tag @o0anapher0o! This is one I have done before and I am sure as hell not going to let that stop me from talking about myself.

How many works do you have on AO3?

143! The next big milestone will be 150 if I ever post again lol

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

436,802 holy cow that is a lot of words.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

It's DS9 all day over here right now! I have also written for Good Omens, Queen's Thief, Tales of Symphonia, and Next Gen and Lower Decks.

4. Top 5 Fics By Kudos

I'm always interested in if the answer to this has changed, because sometimes it does in unexpected ways. Confess Nothing always tops the list, but this time it's only ahead by 2 with All's Fair in Love, War, and Show Business close behind. I'm really surprised to see Personnel Review in third place, because Garak doesn't even personally show up in that one and I always got the sense TNG was much less popular. Fourth place is Lost in Translation, which is not at all surprising. But fifth place does surprise me: It Isn't Perfect (But It's Ours)! Those Good Omens fics really snuck up there while I wasn't looking. (I think Season 2 release, even if I haven't posted anything new, did drive a spike in that fandom.)

5. Do you respond to comments?

I try to and I want to but there are 200 unread comments in my inbox right now and I simply have too much ADHD to deal with that, and then I don't respond to new ones because it's overwhelming and the problem is self-perpetuating. I've read them all in my email notifications, and they've made me smile and laugh and experience great joy! But I am overwhelmed about the idea of trying to reply.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Last time I answered this I hadn't ever written something with an angsty ending, but now with certainty I can say it's Like a pain, the truth is mine in the Terok Nor AU, which is all about Garak's developing addiction to the wire and exploration of self-harm to trigger it. Second place goes to I'd Like to Give Up Now and When All Kindness Has Gone. The interesting thing about all of these, though, is that they exist within the larger framework of what the reader already knows will happen next in canon, which is Garak will survive and make connections with others on the station and it isn't the end of the world that it feels like for him. So does that still count?

7. What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Not coincidentally, I'd probably say it's my two most kudos'd DS9 fics, Confess Nothing and Lost in Translation.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

The closest I've ever come to hate is someone commenting that I had a major tonal shift in the middle of a piece of writing, and they were correct. I have found the fandom to be incredibly kind, supportive, and generous.

9. Do you write smut?

SO once upon a time the answer to this was no but now we are inching our way towards a yes. I made a sock puppet account where I could experiment with writing more explicitly (it's lovely to have so many user subscriptions but also feels like a lot of pressure) and what I've found is there's simply not much more explicit that I'll go, but I'm trying.

10. Craziest crossover

The entirety of Thief Space 9, and of those specifically probably Spaceships and Gods.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of. Again, lovely fandom, beautiful people! I also have a standing policy that my works are a sandbox anyone can play in, so I have had remixes and things inspired by my work, but that's done with full permission and people bringing their own creative twists.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, that's the last thing outstanding on my 'bucket list', so to speak! My dreams were to have my fic inspire art, other fic, podfic, and translation, and we've achieved all but the last.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes and I'm a very bad co-author because there's a fic that's sat unfinished for actual literal years now and I'm not doing my part to finish it.

14. All time favorite ship?

I think I have an all-time favorite ship dynamic, which is any ship where one character could with both deep love and complete sincerity say to the other "I hate you, you're the worst person I know" as a form of foreplay.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I fear we're living in a world where I never finish anything ever again, but in particular there's one fic I posted to aforementioned sock puppet account specifically because I thought it might get permanently abandoned and I didn't want people knowing it was me if that happened because I am a coward

16. What are your writing strengths?

You know, the answer to this has changed! It used to just be dialogue, but now I'd like to think it's also my willingness to experiment with form/format and use even little moments to poke at big questions.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Look, I'm never going to be a writer of lush descriptions. We've come a long way, but settings are actually the worst.

18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

Hasn't changed- translate it if your POV character would understand it, leave it untranslated if they wouldn't. The point of how you write is to communicate information and convey emotion and whatever else to your audience, not to show off your conlang abilities.

19. First fandom you wrote in?

I think I've shared this before, but I wrote a self-insert ship fic with Shadow the Hedgehog for my older sibling for Sonic Adventure 2 Battle when I was far too young.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

I can't answer this. This is a cruel question. Um, at this exact moment in time, possibly Comparative Literature?

Well, there's more information than anyone wanted or needed, but now you have it! You all should do it too so I look slightly less narcissistic. @hellostuffedtiger @ectogeo-rebubbles @ernmark but also you know, anyone who wants to! Whenever I have to tag I immediately forget every single person who exists on this website.

[itgr]

Early ROS season 3 Kodya thoughts (aka here's my excuse to ramble)

I'm only on episode 180. I have thoughts on a lot of things but rn I just wanna talk about Kodya?? Idk ever since we've seen him again in episode 159, he's been a lot more stoic and and standoffish than he used to be? (at least compared to his season 2 counterpart, which yeah he spent most of that outside his body but he wasn't this standoffish to Gyrus before). He's a lot more similar to his season 1 counterpart in some ways which I found interesting. Originally, I thought it would be a temporary thing just from the shock of seeing Gyrus again and recovering from the fact he genuinely thought they'd never meet again, but then he kind of stays that way and he's kind of snarky and defensive which I find interesting. I really like when characters are flawed or are tangibly impacted by things that have happened to them. Anyways here's like multiple reasons I headcanon (some of these are just straight up stated or heavily implied) there's such a big character shift (at least to me):

Um. Yeah he literally thought he'd never see his on and off boyfriend of several years who he literally fought so hard to keep around. That's going to fuck you up regardless of if it ended up not being true

^ Also I feel like losing Gyrus again definitely brought back some old pain and trauma from the time he, yknow, watched Gyrus lose himself over the course of years and eventually had to be the one to kill him ^^ so. YEAH (he has abandonment issues to me)

This is more of a minor point but we should talk about how fucky it would be to spend several years with people from the future and then be plopped back into your time period and expected to just. Keep existing like nothing happened and like you don't know at least hundreds of separate things and concepts that are, quite literally, ahead of your time

Look me in the eyes and tell me he didn't 100% face or see homophobia after returning to his time period. You know that would mess with him a bit (I find his defensiveness near Iro, while partially justified, really interesting? because it's the first time I can think of we get any implication that homophobia explicitly exists in the world of ROS <- which makes sense and it also makes sense to assume that the room of swords itself was probably pretty queer friendly because of the amount of different people there. Anyways Kodya's defensiveness near Iro just reads to me as someone anticipating homophobia because of firsthand experience with it)

Gyrus self deprecating about not as strong as Masiosare, who's essentially like if you took BB! Gyrus's inability to open up and ask for help and his tendencies to do morally fucked up shit for his version of the greater good and then maximised it(/hj), probably made Kodya feel worse. Like he already spent years watching Gyrus lose himself to those ideals and I feel like at this point, the amount of trust issues and general abandonment issues of having a partner who used to hide things from you constantly until it literally destroyed him, combined with that same partner now self deprecating and faintly implying he wants to be like that again, would 100% trigger the shit out of his trauma and probably make him feel like history's going to repeat itself

I don't know if this was intentional but (oversimplification) CPTSD symptoms tend to show up after the person's left whatever stressful environment they used to be in and it starts flaring up because the brain can't process or understand that its in a safe environment and is still in a very defensive protective mode even when it technically shouldn't be. Kodya's likely CPTSD from, yknow, EVERYTHING in the room of swords probably could've started flaring up because of the fact he finally managed to escape, which could also partially explain his mentioned thoughts of feeling cursed and like he'd never be happy before Gyrus showed up (it's a common thing to struggle to feel happy or safe after not having experienced either feeling for a long time)

In conclusion, Kodya Karevic is a well written mentally ill little guy who's literally done zero (0) wrong in his entire life/j. Jokes aside, I wanted an excuse to ramble and get my thoughts out and also just talk about how pleasantly surprising it is to have them actually acknowledge the flaws in Strawbarrow's relationship and show Kodya have tangible problems with trusting Gyrus again. Idk I really like how well and complexly they're written

#also before anyone asks the iro thinking gyrus is some guy in an insane heterosexual cheating polycule thing is the funniest joke ever #room of swords #ros #webtoon #kodya karevic #character analysis #<- eh? maybe? idk what classifies as that tbh #i do a bit of speaking <3 #liveblogging #<- in a way