#there was one blog as committed as me and it takes literally one second to guess who

[koqabear]

Addicted To You

♡ continuation of Take It! but can be read as a stand-alone.

“It’s been three weeks since you’ve seen either Beomgyu or Taehyun, away for a business trip like always— after three weeks without seeing them, they’re eager to show you how much they missed you.”

beomgyu x fem!reader x taehyun

Genre: fluff, smut, porn with no plot. at all. 

Word count 4.7K

warnings: barely edited, poly relationship but no mxm…they’re chaebols for those who don’t know, gyu is kinda bratty, it’s literally just smut

smut warnings: dom!tae, dom!beomgyu, sub!mc, threesome, double vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, pet names, (baby, pretty, sweetheart, etc.) dry humping, marking, praise, degrading, manhandling, breast play, mocking, exhibitionism, oral (f & m rec.) slight masturbation, handjob, fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, (m. rec) slight dumbification, mentions of safe word, dacryphilia, creampies, aftercare (lmk if i should add anything!)

Notes: didn’t rlly think i’d commit to this, but take it holds a silly little place in my heart bc it was the first fic to help me gain traction on my dying blog 😭 (no, there were no other reasons as to why i wrote this tf) 

Study sessions with Taehyun usually go well— he’s a great teacher, and is able to guide you through even the hardest concepts with ease; usually, you end study sessions with no energy at all, more than ready to sink into your bed with your arms wrapped tightly around him. 

Usually, you don’t find yourself where you are now— on top of him, your fingers threaded into his hair as you tug him closer to you. 

“Thought you were tired?” He teases, fully enjoying the way you grind against him, needy and reckless as you simply whine at his comment, “What happened to just cuddling, sweetheart?”

“Does it look like I’m in the mood to just cuddle?” you mock, pulling away from his addicting lips with a frown— he simply laughs, playing along as he sends you an innocent look— though there’s nothing innocent about the way his hands are splayed across the small of your back, encouraging the soft rock of your hips by keeping you pressed firmly onto him, “I haven’t seen you in weeks, missed you so much.”

Taehyun’s smile grows wicked; there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leans forward to place sultry kisses on your neck, plump lips sucking and biting teasingly as he litters marks on any skin that’s left accessible to him. 

“You missed me, pretty? How much?” he teases, mumbling the words against your neck as his hands slip under your shirt, fingers wandering as he feels the way you practically melt at his touch. The small whimper you let out isn’t lost on him as he bucks his hips up into you, prompting you to answer him with a soft bite to the sensitive spot on your neck. 

“So much. So so much,” you ramble, unable to stop your desperate movements as you grind into him, able to feel the way his cock is already hard and pressed perfectly against you, biting your lip in a pathetic attempt to suppress your sounds, “Couldn’t even call you while you away, you were so busy.”

“Wow, I can’t believe this,” you immediately freeze at the sound of the voice— your eyes are wide open as you turn around in Taehyun’s grasp, mouth agape as you realize that you didn’t even notice the bedroom door opening, much less hear Beomgyu come in as he sits comfortably on the chair in the corner, arms crossed and expression unamused as he narrows his eyes at you. 

“Is he the only one to get a warm welcome?” he pouts, shining eyes almost fooling you into thinking he’s seconds away from tearing up, “You didn’t miss me?”

“Gyu,” you gape, untangling yourself from Taehyun as you attempt to go to him immediately— only to be pulled back by Taehyun, his strong arms wrapping around your waist as he presses you flush against him, chin slotting itself on your shoulder as he laughs at the whine you let out, “I thought you weren’t supposed to be here until next week.”

“I wanted to surprise you,” he admits, leaning back in the chair as he lets out a soft tsk, taking in the way Taehyun continues his assault on your neck— you’re weak to his touches as you let out soft gasps, squirming in his grip and inevitably grinding harder against him as a result, “Though it seems you’re busy— I’ll get going then.”

“Beomgyu, ah, wait,” your voice is whiny and pathetic as you call out to him, stopping him in his tracks as he glances back at you— he takes in the way you reach out toward him helplessly, eyes darkening at the way Taehyun continues to hold you close, not planning to let you go soon as his eyes flicker up; they meet Beomgyu’s, and he’s unable to hold back his sly smile as his hands wander under your shirt, pushing it up and exposing your chest before he’s expertly playing with your breasts— the way you cry out from his touches and place your hands on his forearms is amusing, and Beomgyu is quick to catch onto Taehyun’s intentions as he simply huffs out a soft laugh. 

“What’s wrong baby?” he asks, tilting his head as he goes to stand before you— just out of reach, your attempts to grab onto him and tug him closer futile as you simply look up at him with teary eyes, whimpering softly at the way Taehyun begins to rut up into you, “Isn’t Tyunnie enough for you?” 

The nickname has Taehyun rolling his eyes— Beomgyu’s wicked smile of amusement only makes Taehyun more irritated, even more so when you begin protesting that you want him, too.

“It’s not that,” you say, struggling to utter a coherent sentence from the way Taehyun continues to stimulate you, your brain turned to mush from his touch alone, “Just missed you… want you, missed both of you s’much…”

Both men are laughing at your state— your fucked out expression and bruised lips from Taehyun’s harsh bites is enough to have them hooked, and Beomgyu has to take a deep breath in order to keep his hands off you. 

“Our sweet girl,” Taehyun hums, kissing your cheek fondly, a stark contrast to the way he continues to stimulate you, expert fingers tweaking at your nipples while he continues to roll his hips up into you; you don’t seem to notice the moment one of his hands begins to slide down coyly, slipping under your shorts and rubbing your clit teasingly over your panties— you both hiss at the feeling, and Taehyun bites his lips at the feeling of you completely soaking your underwear, “Why don’t you show Gyu how much you missed us, hmm?”

You’re nodding immediately; your hips are canting at his touch, and you can’t seem to get your eyes off Beomgyu, who simply takes you in with hungry eyes, stepping closer in order to cup your cheek, leaning down until his hips are hovering over yours.

“Still such a greedy thing, aren’t you?” he asks softly, his voice barely above a whisper as you simply cry at his words. It’s all too much for you— Taehyun’s body against yours, his soft huffs against your skin, his wandering lips and hands that don’t detach themselves from your body for even a moment— and Beomgyu’s soft hand that caresses your face fondly, staring at you with such pity in his eyes you can’t help but feel small under his gaze, “Can’t even help yourself from touching us the moment we come back to you.”

You don’t bother to refute his claims— because it’s all true, and you don’t bother to feel an ounce of shame from it, not when the two men before you can’t seem to get away from you for a second, either. 

“Are you gonna cum?” Beomgyu asks, taking in the way your movements grow frantic, your mouth slightly agape and letting out streams of moans that only worsen from his question, “So close already? Come on baby, show me how much you missed us.”

Beomgyu’s lips are soft and hungry the moment they crash against yours— he’s held back long enough, unable to control his need to feel you panting and moaning against his lips the second you crash down from your high— your frantic hands grip Beomgyu’s perfectly pressed dress shirt tightly, though he couldn’t care less about it, not when you’re pulling him toward you desperately and kissing him as though you haven’t seen him in years. 

“Shit…” Taehyun groans, fingers drifting down to your clothed slit, face buried into your neck as he laughs breathily— you jolt against him as you feel his middle and ring finger run along your cunt teasingly, feeling your panties stick to you and pressing against your entrance to feel how wet you are— you’re whining softly in embarrassment, though you can’t control the shocks of pleasure that still jolt through you, pulling away from Beomgyu’s lips to burrow into his chest from the sensitivity. 

“She’s so wet,” Taehyun smiles, raising his head to meet Beomgyu’s— the two men feel weak to the way you grow flustered at their words, still shy as ever as you mumble incoherently into Beomgyu’s chest— Taehyun’s hold on you grows slack, but you don’t bother to stand up, still able to feel the way his hard cock throbs against you, weak to the feeling of him under you. 

“Poor thing,” Beomgyu coos, rubbing your back in a way that’s more patronizing than soothing, “Guess we left you alone for too long, hmm? Can’t last this long without us, is that it?” 

Your desperation is endearing to Beomgyu— though it’s something he’ll never say out loud, choosing instead to tease and poke fun at you as he takes in your weak protests and flustered reactions with a deep satisfaction. 

With the two here, you don’t need to move a muscle— not when they can do it for you, allowing them to put you in any position they want as you find yourself laying on the bed, thighs rubbing impatiently as you watch them with wide expectant eyes, waiting for their next move as they hover over you. 

“Won’t you ask how our trip was?” Beomgyu asks, his sweet smile doing nothing to deter your mind from the fact that Taehyun is sinking to his stomach, situating himself comfortably between your legs as he begins to pry your bottoms off— his eyes flicker down to your line of sight, and he’s able to catch the way your panties are soaked through with your arousal, your pretty cunt still glistening from your last orgasm.

“Baby?” He asks again, taking a hold of your chin and forcing you to look back up at him. He’s pouting, petulant as always when he realizes your attention isn’t solely on him, “Eyes on me, baby. Answer my question, won’t you?”

“H…How was your trip…?” you’re trailing off indignantly the moment you feel Taehyun’s mouth on you; it’s warm and messy as his tongue is instantly licking up the remnants of your arousal, your legs twitching at the feeling before he’s throwing them over his shoulders— his grip is bruising on your thighs as he keeps you in place, sucking and licking and moaning against your cunt like a crazed man.

“It was so boring,” Beomgyu says, seemingly unfazed by the way Taehyun is pressed against your cunt, the intensity of it all making your brows furrow and your eyes glaze with pleasure; you’re gripping at the sheets as your mouth falls open, able to feel the way his nose presses against your clit as his tongue enters you smoothly, humming out in satisfaction as the vibrations only make you yelp with pleasure— though, after a moment, you’re able to take notice of the way Beomgyu’s hand has begun to palm at his cock, eyes drinking in even your most miniscule changes of expression as he smiles. 

“Couldn’t stand being away from you for so long,” he continues, glancing back to where Taehyun hums in agreement; he’s raising his head from where it’s buried between your legs for a second, his face shining with your arousal as he sends you a charming smile— you simply whine at the way you feel his fingers teasing your entrance, circling and prodding at it before they’re sinking into you; he’s curling and pumping them immediately, eager to pull out any reactions from you as he aims for all your sensitive spots with ease. 

“Both of us,” Beomgyu adds, watching as Taehyun sends you one last coy look before his eyes fall back on your pussy— your face feels hot as you watch his lips attach themselves to your clit, looking back up at you with innocent eyes as he continues to fuck with you with his fingers, adding a third before you can even process it. 

Beomgyu is as needy as ever as he scolds you to look back up at him— your eyes widen slightly as you take in the way he’s taken his cock out, stroking it slowly and furrowing his brows the moment you begin watching him; you’re reaching up to wrap a hand around him without a second thought, and he’s cursing lowly under his breath at the feeling of your warm hand, pumping him slowly and taking in the way his tip leaks profusely. 

“Thought of you the whole time…” he mumbles, wincing slightly at the way you shift toward him in order to wrap your mouth around him; your tongue darts out to lick at his tip teasingly, doe eyes only enticing him further as he cups your face with a fond look, “I thought of calling you— I had so many nights where I couldn’t sleep, just thought of you…”

Beomgyu can’t begin to count how many times he laid on the bed of his hotel room, eyes screwed shut as he fucked himself to the memory of you— more often than not, he thought of calling your during those times— he thought of sending you a video, a picture, anything that could show you just how much he needed you; instead, he decided to remain patient, to let his energy pent up until he finally saw you again. 

Now that you lay before him, your movements on his cock faltering from the feeling of Taehyun’s tongue against your pussy, fingers hitting all the spots that make your stomach twist up in knots, he’s not sure how he’ll contain himself— three weeks without you was simply a death sentence to him. 

“You should’ve called,” you whine out, your voice weak and shaky as your thighs tighten around Taehyun’s head; he remains unfazed by the action, his soft hair ticklish against your skin as he merely presses himself against you more— the bed begins to rock from how much you squirm from his ministrations, though the way he’s begun to rut into the mattress is also to blame.

“I would’ve helped you, I… ah…!” you’re unable to finish your sentence. Beomgyu’s hand has begun to guide your own on his cock, though you don’t seem to realize it from the way your eyes are screwed shut, your helpless noises growing louder and spurring Taehyun to pleasure you more— you can already begin to imagine the marks his fingers will leave on your thighs from how hard he’s got you, keeping you firmly against him and preventing you from escaping as he leads you to your second orgasm of the night— one of many you can tell, at least from the way the two watch you with dark, hungry eyes. 

You’re a whimpering and weak mess as Taehyun lets you ride out your orgasm; he’s licking up your cum eagerly, enjoying the way you twitch and cry from the overstimulation of it all, your voice already slightly hoarse as you meekly plead Taehyun to stop, please please please, too much…

He only stops when he feels a sharp tug at his hair— though, unlike you, who tries to tug at his roots in a controlled manner to not hurt him, this action is clearly meant to hurt, and he’s already sending Beomgyu a lethal glare as the said man simply smiles back, keeping him away from you as Taehyun winces at the feeling. 

You’re unaware of it all— you’re still catching your breath, your shirt hiked up and exposing your chest, taking deep breaths as your eyes remain shut— you’re especially unaware of the way they seem to be communicating silently, Beomgyu’s grip loosening from Taehyun’s hair as he simply sends him a look, mouthing words that have Taehyun letting out a soft oh. Before you can question it, you’re being moved again. 

“Baby, do you remember why we went on this trip?” Beomgyu asks you, moving you back until you’re almost against the headboard; you’re sitting up, and Beomgyu is right beside you as he smiles, your brain fuzzy as he waits for your answer with bright eyes— his smile widens slightly the moment you begin to mumble incoherently about renewing a partnership with a company— laughing softly, he kisses you, short and sweet as he nods.

“And it went well,” he says, his heart swelling as he takes in the way you slur out a soft congratulations, “So I— Tyunnie and I… were thinking we should celebrate.” 

“Celebrate?” you ask, peering up at him through dazed eyes; his hands have begun to wander, relishing in being able to feel your skin again as he nods.

“Do you trust us, baby?” Taehyun has appeared at your other side; they cage you in, though it doesn’t feel pressuring or dangerous as they wait for your answer with loving eyes. 

“Yes.”

Your answer is immediate— and you mean it, taking in the way the two only give you mischievous smiles in return; before you can process what’s going on, they’re asking you to change positions— Beomgyu currently lays back against the headboard as you hover over him, his clothes discarded as his fingers play with the hem of your tee— rather, their tee, unsure of who’s it might be, but knowing that it’s not your own simply from the way it looks on your figure.

“Safe word?” Beomgyu asks softly, beginning to tug your shirt up before you’re obeying and taking it off; tossing it to the side, you mumble the safe word you all agreed upon, and he’s sending you an endearing smile before he’s tugging your hips down; he hisses softly at the feeling of your warm cunt fluttering around his tip, already able to feel your seeping arousal before you finally sink onto him.

“Fuck, oh shit,” he sighs, feeling the way you stretch around him, much tighter than he remembers as you simply whine at the feeling, “God, did you really miss us this much, pretty girl?”

The way you nod without hesitation has Beomgyu laughing softly; he’s reaching to take your hands, tugging at you until you’re hovering over him, your hands on either side of his head as he pouts softly at you.

“Who’d you miss more,” he begins, his antics nothing new to you as you fight the urge to roll your eyes, “Me or Tyunnie?”

There’s a right answer here, he mutters, groaning softly as he finally bottoms out inside you, feeling your hips flush against his as he bucks his hips up— whether he’s trying to get you to moan out his name or he simply can’t control himself like he tells you, you’re unsure. 

“Missed both of you,” you whine, and you fall onto him pathetically the moment he bucks his hips up into you roughly, your body jolting up from the motion.

“Really?” he asks, patting your head softly as you nod against him, “Then, do you want Tyunnie to fuck you too?” 

Mindlessly, you nod— then you freeze, feeling as though there’s more to what Beomgyu is asking as you sit back up, sending him a confused look that only makes him smile with endearment. 

“What?” he says, and it’s only once you’ve sat up that you come in contact with Taehyun’s bare chest, twisting your head to look back at him— but you’re unable to, only being able to feel his firm chest press against your back, warm hands rubbing up and down your thighs soothingly as he places feathery kisses along your shoulder, “Since you can never pick between us, why not have both?”

His comment is both condescending and lighthearted— he doesn’t mind sharing, but he knows that mentioning it is always enough to fluster you— and, like clockwork, you tense up, unsure of what to say as Taehyun begins to leave open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat, going up, up up until he’s finally reached you ear, placing a kiss behind it before he’s whispering a soft don’t you wanna feel good, pretty? the words barely whispered as you make eye contact with Beomgyu, who was already unable to keep his eyes off you. 

The moment you catch on, Beomgyu lets out a soft moan— he can feel you clench around him, your warm walls fluttering around him and causing him to throw his head back, eyes fluttering shut from the pleasure as you simply whine at the sight, feeling the way his cock ruts into you from response. 

“What do you say then, pretty?” Taehyun asks, his scent overtaking your senses from how close he is to you, something you didn’t think you missed as much as you did as you find yourself leaning back against him, your head tilting back to rest against his shoulder as you bite your lip, taking a moment to respond as Taehyun begins littering kisses along your jaw. 

“Yes, please, I want you— want you both, need you both to fuck me,” your words practically have the two malfunctioning— You can feel Taehyun smile against your jaw as Beomgyu’s hips jump up once more, and you allow Taehyun to place one last chaste kiss on your lips before he’s guiding you to lean back down.

You’ve never done this before— you’ve never thought of doing this, but as Beomgyu begins to fuck into you slowly, allowing you to loosen up around him for Taehyun, you realize that this business trip must’ve affected them much more than they let on. 

You tense slightly the moment you feel Taehyun’s tip prod at your full entrance; Beomgyu catches onto it instantly, muttering a soft still okay? against the crown of your head, only giving Taehyun a nod of confirmation the moment you tell him yes. 

“Relax for us, okay?” Taehyun coos, rubbing your skin soothingly and only continuing once he sees the tension leave your body— carefully, he begins to enter you. 

You already felt full enough with either of them inside you— but now, as you felt Taehyun finally slip inside, the three of you letting out pleasured sounds from it, you feel absolutely stuffed. 

“ffffu…. god… why didn’t we try this sooner,” you hear Beomgyu groan, jaw clenched as he focuses on not coming inside you then and there— the way you whine and whimper into his ear is enough to have him shutting his eyes, letting out another groan as he feels Taehyun bottom out, the feeling of their cocks rubbing against each other filthy and new, your fingers gripping onto Beomgyu’s shoulder desperately as you will yourself to hover over him. 

Beomgyu looks entirely fucked out; his expression probably mirrors yours, his face flushed and his eyes blown out with lust as he sends you a coy smile; behind you, you can feel Taehyun lean down to press against you, a hand securing itself on your waist while the other supports his weight— his head is buried in the crook of your neck, trying to hide the weak whines he lets out once he finally begins to pull out. 

The moment he thrusts back in, you can already feel tears prick at your eyes— you’re loud and unabashed in your sounds as they finally begin to fuck you, experimenting a bit before they finally find a good rhythm. 

When Beomgyu pulls out, Taehyun thrusts back in— it’s a cycle that leaves you constantly full and weak, and if it weren’t for Taehyun’s arm wrapped around your waist, you’re sure you would’ve fallen against Beomgyu already— though moments after, when Taehyun chooses to grab a hold of your hips in order to guide you onto them, you’re doing exactly that. 

“Feels good?” Beomgyu asks, taking your hand and lacing his fingers with yours, laughing cruelly at the drooly and fucked out mess you’ve turned into, barely able to mutter out a response from how good they’re fucking you, “Such a good girl— shit, ugh— always wanting to make us feel good, taking whatever we give her.”

“You have no idea how much we missed you,” Taehyun mutters against your skin, barely able to continue his sentence from the way you clench around them, your mixed arousals and the sound of skin slapping against skin almost drowning out your sounds, “Had us— ah… fucking bonding from how— ngh, how bad it was.”

The thought is enough to make you laugh— though you aren’t able to, not with the way they continue to fuck you roughly, your back arching from the way Taehyun’s clever hand begins to rub at your clit— you can only whine softly at the feeling, allowing them to toy with you however they’d like as Beomgyu sneaks a hand to play with your breasts. 

“Missed you— missed this,” Beomgyu rambles to himself, and you can feel the way his hips begin to stutter, losing their rhythm and affecting Taehyun in the process, “Just wanted to hear you cute little sounds again, my pretty girl.”

“Our pretty girl…” Taehyun corrects, though it’s only to tease as he feels you tighten around him— you’re close, he can tell, and it only fuels the two men to continue fucking you recklessly, “Can you cum for us, pretty? Wanna feel it, missed seeing you come on my cock, just give us one more, sweet thing—“

His words become foggy to your mind after that, but you can hear him guiding you the whole time you crash down, letting out a loud cry before Beomgyu’s cupping your face and guiding you to his lips, kissing you slowly and taking in your sounds as you practically drool against him— the kiss is messy and you’re barely able to process anything, feeling him bite your lips and run his tongue along your mouth teasingly before he laughs, pulling away to give you one last sweet kiss. 

“Want us to fill you up?” Beomgyu asks, his voice slightly tense as he continues to concentrate on not falling apart then and there; even through your foggy mind, you’re nodding eagerly, teary eyes affecting Beomgyu much more than he’d like to admit as he finally allows himself to cum inside you—you can hear Taehyun hiss softly at the feeling, triggering his own orgasm as the two men whimper at the feeling, unable to stop their cocks from rutting into you, sensitive from the way they continue to rub against each other inside.

You’re warm and filled to the point that it’s already begun to leak out— Taehyun swears that he’s never seen a better sight, and you’re burying your head into the crook of Beomgyu’s neck, mentally rolling your eyes at the way he pouts a soft no fair, I can’t see.

You don’t think you can bring yourself to move after that— lucky for you, you have two strong men to do your bidding— which is exactly why you’re able to find yourself in a warm bubble bath after a few minutes of rest, unable to stop yourself from marveling at the luxury of it all despite being with the two for— well, a year.

“I’m so happy to be back, seriously,” Beomgyu mutters, his head laying on your chest as you simply laugh, running your fingers through his hair fondly, “I don’t think I can be away from you for that long again.”

“Was it really that bad?” you ask softly, slightly embarrassed at how hoarse your voice is; they merely laugh fondly at you, and Taehyun’s arms circle around your waist before he’s pressing himself closer to you— you can feel him nod despite his forehead resting against your shoulder, and you merely roll your eyes at their theatrics, tilting your head back and resting your head against Taehyun’s shoulder, allowing him to slot his chin on your own, “Why don’t you just take me with you next time, hmm?”

“You’d like that?” Beomgyu immediately asks, titling his head back and looking at you with wide, sparkling eyes— you laugh, nodding softly as you watch him smile cutely in return, “You better not change your mind.”

“I won’t,” you muse, smiling at the way Taehyun places a soft kiss on your cheek, “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

Because despite your doubts, they’ve really proven just how much you mean to them— and as you feel them cuddle closer to you, allowing yourself to sink into the warm water that soothes your sore body, you can’t control the way your heart flutters from the mere way they hold you.

God, you’re down bad.

#txt fanfic #txt fanfiction #txt imagines #txt oneshots #txt ff #txt fluff #taehyun x reader #taehyun ff #taehyun imagines #taehyun oneshot #txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #taehyun smut #beomgyu smut #beomgyu ff #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu oneshot #beomgyu x reader

[thankskenpenders]

Happy new year, everyone! Welcome to 2024, the year that will mark the 10th anniversary of Thanks Ken Penders. I'd like to go over my plans for the blog for this year.

First of all: in the very near future, I'll have a post with my thoughts on Sonic Dream Team, and I'm sure I'll write one last Sonic Prime review once the final episodes drop on the 11th. I've also been sitting on an unfinished piece about the Sonic LEGO sets. I wanted this to be longer and more detailed piece that not only reviewed the sets but also went into the weird disconnect between homogenized image of Sonic the Brand and the actual fiction it's based off of, but it'll probably end up getting cut down a lot just so I can put something out. Let's just say I did a fun little thing with one of the sets.

Second: yes, I would like to return to regular TKP updates this year. As I've said many times, I wanted to do this in 2023, but I've been suffering from creative burnout after finishing SLARPG and have generally been unable to focus on any of my creative goals this past year. I'm hoping that this year will be better and I'll be able to get back into the swing of covering Archie Sonic issues. Even doing one issue every week or so would be vastly preferable to continuing the hiatus. I'm still only halfway done!! But aside from burnout, my other main hurdle is that I need to reread my own archive to refresh myself on all these things after nearly three years away. This will take some time.

The thing is, though, this year I'll have an extra incentive to go back through my previous writing and brush up on all things Archie Sonic. Because you see...

I've decided that I want to make a video essay about Penders. The comics, the copyright battle, The Lara-Su Chronicles, everything.

The why

I've thought about doing this before, but I never committed to the idea. I was too busy with gamedev, or I thought it'd end up being too long, or I figured that there were already enough videos on the subject, or I just lacked confidence in my ability to put together a video essay. So I told myself it wasn't meant to be, and let the multiple YouTubers who have cited me as a source on their own Penders videos fill that void.

Recently, though, a few things have happened that have convinced me it might be time. For one, YouTube video essays/media retrospectives/etc. are just getting longer and longer. When Quinton Reviews is out here doing 21 hours of videos on Sam & Cat, a subpar Nick sitcom that only lasted one season, I don't feel so crazy for wanting to make a video about several hundred comic books and two lawsuits that'd be at least an hour or two long lmao. Admittedly, I've also been self-conscious about doing a long video essay like this as a trans woman who has yet to do any vocal training. But these days I feel like I see a lot more transfem YouTubers who have done little to no vocal training, and that's given me more confidence on that front.

But the big one was Hbomberguy's recent plagiarism video. As I sat there watching it, I kept thinking about the time I found a CBR article that was just a crude 800 word summary of my two previous articles on Penders, published by a CBR writer who's put out over 4000 articles since 2019. If I've already been plagiarized before, and my writing is so frequently passed around as a go-to source on Archie Sonic drama, then I wouldn't be shocked if there were YouTubers out there straight up just plagiarizing me. I don't watch other peoples' videos on Archie Sonic, so I'd never know! So if people are just gonna paraphrase me when covering these topics anyway, why not take matters into my own hands and make what I would consider to be the definitive video on the subject? If hacks like James Somerton and iilluminaughtii can churn out these shitty video essays and people will still watch them, surely it can't be that impossible to make my own, right? (And also, uh, Hbomb literally told me I should make the video lol. If you're reading this, thanks for the encouragement.)

The what, how, and when

So here's the plan.

Part of this video essay will be an adaptation of my Medium article on the recurring themes of Ken's Archie Sonic run, with its content touched up and expanded upon. There were a few things I skimmed over in the article because I didn't want it to get too long, but again, people are out here watching ten hour videos about bad Nickelodeon sitcoms now. I can get away with elaborating a little more. I can add a few paragraphs talking about the Chaos Knuckles arc, or throw in a little more historical context I've discovered in the years since.

After covering the comics, the back half(-ish?) of the video will be dedicated to the copyright battles and their ensuing controversies, trying to give an accurate picture of what actually went down, the sheer scale of how bad Archie fucked up, and what our takeaways should be. This will have some similarities to my New York Magazine article on the subject, but I'll be rewriting it from scratch. I REALLY had to keep things short for that article because I was already way over the expected word count, and my tone was a little more straight-laced than normal because I was trying to keep things Professional. I can riff more and insert more of my own opinions this time, like I normally would.

I'll inevitably have to touch on some of Ken's Bad Tweets when discussing things that have happened after the lawsuits, but I don't want the video to just devolve into a list of times people got mad at him on Twitter, so I'm gonna try to keep that to a minimum in favor of focusing on his actual work. Things like the Scourge the Speed Demon incident and his continued statements on certain characters' copyright statuses probably warrant mentioning, though. And finally, assuming that the book really does come out this summer, I would like the grand finale of the video to be about those first couple chapters of The Lara-Su Chronicles.

I don't currently know when this video will get done, but it'll probably be in the back half of the year, especially with me waiting for the book to either drop or get delayed yet again. But I've actually already started writing a bit of the script, and will keep chipping away at it for a while.

So, uh, yeah, look forward to that? Wish me luck?

#tkp post

[rogersideup]

Nice to be Kneaded

Chapter eleven

Courage

Series masterlist

Previous Part: The Snap Next Part: Homecoming

Word Count: 5,845

Warnings: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI. Mentions of loss, abuse, PTSD, anxiety and depression.

Steve was enraged.

Even after Thanos dusted away half of all living things, blipping away half of all of his loved ones he still didn't feel quite this angry.

He was pretty sure that if he was an animated character, his skin would be firetruck red with puffs of dark grey smoke blowing out of his ears. There would be squiggly black marks around his feet as they quickly stomped across the compound showing how the force of his steps rattled the ground with every stride, effectively and dramatically carrying him to exactly where he needed to be.

The second Steve opened his mouth, the words in the white speech bubble above his head would be replaced by numbers, punctuation marks and octothorps. He had nothing nice to say, and his voice would only come out at one volume until he got exactly what he wanted. Loud.

This anger all started the second his phone dedicated to you rang and he was met with chaos and clinking gun metal on the other line. He heard the familiar clicks of handcuffs, he heard your cries and the questions you were asking out of fear.

He heard the way you weren't read your Miranda Rights, he could tell they had wrongly used force and pulled weapons on you. He didn't even know who they were at first.

So he enlisted the help of Natasha, one of the only other people living at the compound with him at the moment that was available to help him track you down. It took a few days, and every passing moment made him feel sick to his stomach knowing every minute he didn't know how to help you was a minute you were in the custody of some branch of government that was obviously in some sort of power trip.

On the morning of day three of the search, Nat peeled herself away from the laptop for a little while to take a shower and properly get ready for the day right after Steve did, then she came rushing back into the private sector office area with a spring in her step.

"Rogers, you're never going to believe who I just found." She declared with urgency. Steve's head popped up, eyes wide and hopeful. "Just passed by intake, they were booking her."

"Like... HERE?!" Steve questioned, jumping out of his seat faster than she could even answer the question.

"Yeah, literally downstairs." She followed his fast steps down the corridors.

"You're telling me shield agents were the ones who did that to her?" He asked again, smoke building up in his head.

"Go easy on em' Cap, you know they're just following orders." Nat tried to ease his anger. "You know they had to respond to a report."

"They didn't have to respond with a bigger crime than the one she committed in the first place." He puffed, stomps growing louder, fists wound tightly.

By the time he made it to intake, he slammed the door open with enough force to make everyone in the lobby jump out of their own skin. Natasha was surprised it managed to stay on the hinges.

His voice projected loudly, bouncing off each starkly white wall, booming enough to break the florescent lightbulbs above head.

Nat approached the front desk and tapped her nails against the wood, letting her head rest in her hand while she waited for Steve to be done yelling at everyone around him so she could talk some actual legal sense into these imbeciles.

To her surprise, Steve was actually making really good points, using really big words, and his knowledge on the legal side of what was actually here lined up. Which made her job easier in turn, but she was ready to bargain for you nonetheless.

Fourty five minutes.

That's how long it took for Steve to chew out everyone directly involved in the whole ordeal. Every detail he got out of the circumstance in which you were detained made him progressively more and more angry.

Natasha did eventually take over after those forty five minutes and used every detail she just learned, every broken rule in the sun and threw it right back in their faces. Jobs we're lost, livelihoods we're threatened, and a chain reaction was sure to ensue the moment they got their hands on some help from Rhodey.

He vowed to help start an investigation on the corrupt agents that did that to you.

Once Steve ensured you were free to go with a complete scrubbed criminal record including that one speeding ticket you got for going 35 in a 25 zone, he calmed down to a more reasonable state of being.

The smoke from his ears was now nothing but red in his cheeks with little white diagonal lines emphasizing the crease in his angry brow.

Steve and Nat sat heavy in seats like stone while they continued on further. The government needed to make up for what they did to you, and quite honestly, they owe you one for keeping one of its greatest protectors safe for so long in the first place.

At the hour and a half mark, a deal came into agreement, and Steve was squirming in his seat to go and rescue you from the holding room he knew you were locked up in.

It was so hard for him to know you were just down the hall and not be able to go sweep you off your feet and try to put a bandage over the damage he had inadvertently caused you.

This was his fault. And his own mind made sure to remind him of that over and over and over again.

If it weren't for his lack of control around you, you would've been innocent and happy baking cookies and living a life in which none of this was ever even a possibility for you. The least he could've done was be an advocate for your innocence, and get you home.

What he didn't stop to consider was that you were absolutely terrified. Actually, terrified could only describe the surface level of emotions you were feeling.

It had been three days since any of your needs were met all the while being manipulated by people much more powerful than you, and triggered by the behaviors of the men who had you in custody.

You didn't even know where you were, not the building, not the city, not the state. You hadn't eaten anything the entire time you were in custody, and anytime you even tried to sip on water, you couldn't hold back your sobs long enough to choke it down.

There was a lot of time to process your arrest. It was the first time in your life you had even seen a gun in person, let alone have 6 fully automatic weapons pointed directly at you all at once. Harsh hand prints were bruised onto your shoulders, waist, and all over your arms. Your knees were bruised and scraped, your entire face hurt from crying for so long, your back was thrown out, and you were just exhausted.

Along side not eating or drinking, you also weren't sleeping much. It was taking a physical toll on your body.

You also had time to ponder if your time with Steve was worth all of this, because when it all started you thought you were facing county jail and a fine. Not being abducted by the government and starved. You determined that he was worth every star in the sky, and you'd put up with this for as long as your body would allow it to.

But you couldn't deny that the time and distance apart from him was making you feel as though you were so tiny and insignificant in the world he lived in. And if he was out there somewhere, you doubted that you even took up space in his mind anymore. So much of your life had changed since he left, and every day you feel further and further from that girl he loved once upon a time, and all things considered, you were just you.

He wasn't just him. He was a superhero, a role model, a life saver, a war fighter. If your life had significantly changed for you as an every day civilian, you could only imagine he also felt like a whole different person than the man you loved too. He was on the front line, and you were in the very back line.

It wasn't his fault that you felt so far away from him, honestly, it was probably yours. Pushing yourself further and further away from the truth that losing him in your daily life had led you towards so much pain.

You were quite literally at your lowest, hungry and crying on the floor of a temporary cell you were pretty sure was just supposed to be an interrogation room.

There was a table and a chair in there, but you didn't feel safe enough to even sit in the stainless steel trap. You stayed curled up in the corner, desperately trying to stay awake. Jumping at every sound, flinching at every passing footstep, uncontrollably crying at every agent who came in to talk to you.

Every once in a while there would be hours in between anyone coming to check on your state of being, and you'd convince yourself it was better that way. Anything was better than being transported and man handled again.

No matter how scared you were, at some point your body completely shut down and forced your mind to sleep, only to be woken up hours later by a slam so loud it shook the ground and yelling you could hear loud and clear through the door.

The anger and volume in which the shouting happened caused your whole body to tremble like a chihuahua in one of those sad shelter commercials.

Convincing yourself to just breathe through the fear, you were able to pick up a few phrases that made you stop thinking about everything but those words entirely.

"My criminal record was fully scrubbed, there's no reason for her to be punished for anything she did. It doesn't matter anymore."

"You guys are treating her like she killed people, all she did was treat me kindly"

"Lay your hands on her one more time and I swear on everything that I'll bust her out of there and never come back."

You couldn't believe what you were hearing, and you didn't want to believe what your gut was telling you. And if it was who you thought it was, you never imagined you'd hear him shouting like that.

Not wanting to believe either of those possibilities were true, not wanting to get your hopes up or become even more hurt, you covered your ears with your cuffed hands and hid your face in your injured knees.

When the time came and an agent placed the key to your cuffs into Steve's palm, he started walking towards your holding room faster that he's ever walked before. Natasha stayed behind and decided to wait in the lobby to give the two of you space.

Getting Steve to talk about you was like pulling teeth, and that's exactly how Nat knew the extent of how precious you were to him. If she hadn't previously met you, she didn't know if at this point she would even be aware of your existence.

When you heard steps approaching, and saw shadows of feet under the door, you covered your ears tighter, and sunk your face deeper into your legs.

You hated the sound of the security code being typed into the keypad, and you despised the click of the door unlocking and opening even more.

But when it did, just as always you cried a little harder, and flinched at the approaching footsteps. This time was different though, as you waited for an agent to start yelling at you, it never happened.

Steve's heart broke as he opened the door and saw you curled up in the corner. This wasn't the happy reunion he had dreamed of since the moment he left, but it was even more bitter sweet than saying goodbye to you.

You had been through a lot and all on your own, arguably more than him. You were smack dab in the middle of one of the biggest traumas of your life, all while being triggered by passed events.

He understood that he was probably one of the last people you wanted to see right now, he even understood that you would be terrified of him right off the bat. You had just listened to him rudely yelling at everyone under the sun for a while, one of your biggest triggers and fears was loud, disruptive men.

The second he stepped in he considered turning right around and getting Natasha to come remove your cuffs and bring you up to their private sector. Maybe you'd feel less on edge around a woman, especially one you trusted and had bonded with once before. But he also didn't want you to feel ignored by him, he didn't want you realizing you were in his place of living without seeing his face or being made comfortable by him.

So he did his best to take the most gentle approach he could. He closed the door behind him so softly it wouldn't make a sound, he walked so carefully as to not make a single thud with his food as if he was sneaking up on an enemy in battle.

Every step closer he took, you could still tell someone was in the room with you, so you tried to push yourself deeper into the corner hoping it would swallow you whole and you'd completely disappear.

You physically couldn't get yourself to look up until someone unusual happened. Whoever was in the room with you had cautiously sat on the floor in front of you and settled in.

"Hey, Sunflower" The calm and comforting voice filled your ears.

Your eyes snapped open, full body chills rushed over your skin as you peaked through your eyelashes, still unwilling to lift your head. In front of you sat Steve, you had never felt so much relief in your entire life for a multitude of reasons.

He looked different. A clean shaven face and a shorter hair cut, scar on his forehead, his usual street ware was replaced with jeans and a nice button down flannel. You assumed this version of him was a lot more typical than the version of him you knew, but he was still so handsome this way.

"I'm so sorry this happened" He apologized, his voice even quieter and more comforting than before. "Is it okay if I take your handcuffs off?"

It had been awhile since you spoken a single word, and right now you didn't even know what to say to him.

Although you knew he would never hurt you, and you were relieved to have him with you now, your brain still wanted to push everyone away. It was in flight or fight, and getting it to listen to your heart saying that he was safe to be around was hard.

But he knew that, and that's why he was maintaining a gentle approach. He vividly remembered that night he got a glimpse of the full extent in which men in your life had scarred you. He knew you'd need some time to warm up, you needed your needs met, you needed a few hours to not feel so scared anymore.

You nodded before reluctantly letting go of the sides of your face and holding your wrists out to him. Steve reached out slowly and unlocked the mechanism allowing them to pop open. He gently took them off your wrists and put them on the floor, revealing your irritated red skin beneath where they once clung to your body.

"Gosh, they put those on so tight" He winced looking at your wrists. "Does it hurt?"

You nodded once again, your tears now fell because you forgot what it was like to be around someone who genuinely cared about you.

"Can I?" He asked, sticking his hands out towards yours.

You hesitantly placed your shaky hands in each of his, desperately trying to get your mind to recognize that he wasn't going to hurt you, trying so hard to think of any words you could say to him.

He very delicately moved his hands upwards to your wrist, and carefully massaged where the cuffs once were. It felt so nice, you wanted to melt into a puddle on the floor.

"Does that feel better?" He questioned with a worried expression on his face. When you nodded once more, he continued. "Do you know anything about where you are?"

This time you shook your head.

"You're in New York, upstate." He explained to you. "This is a criminal intake center meant for agent interrogation here at the Avengers Compound. I live in this building but I had no clue you were here until an hour and a half ago."

You slowly lifted your head but kept your eyes fixed on your wrists in his hands. Teeny tiny baby steps, but it made him happy.

"I was looking for you since you called, came down as soon as I heard." He continued. "I got it all squared away for you, okay? You don't have to worry about anything. Your criminal record has been completely scrubbed, and you're free to go."

You finally made eye contact, then your mind went crazy again. You didn't have an ID on you, no money, no cards, not even a phone or access to a computer. Then the words finally came to you in a moment of worry. "I don't know how to get home"

"It's okay" he reassured you. "When you're ready and if you're okay with it, I'll bring you to my place. We'll get you settled and I'll fly you home. Is that alright?"

"Thank you" You cried, the words came out broken.

"I'm so sorry." He apologized again. "I'm disgusted by the way this was handled, this should've never happened."

"Not your fault" You squeezed your eyes shut and shook your head.

"And I'm sorry you had to hear me yelling like that, I know that probably scared you. I know it'll take some time to settle down from all of this, but I'm here for you. Whatever you need, I'll make it happen, okay?"

"It's okay" Your voice still broken.

The more he spoke, the more you calmed down. You felt almost immediately safer and more grounded in his presence, everything you were worried about before had flown out of the window. He was exactly the same, and it started to feel like no time had passed at all.

The more fear that left your body, the more you wanted to hug him, kiss him, just have him in your arms again. But honestly you felt disgusting and definitely didn't look the best.

"Are you alright, did they hurt you?" He asked, feeling genuinely concerned about the way the agents handled you.

You nodded before rolling up the loose sleeve of your hoodie, revealing the marks your body was littered in. A darkness settled in his eyes as he took in the state of your body, then you lifted the hem of show him the small of your waist, also covered in black and blue hand prints.

"If they didn't already lose their jobs, I'd be losing mine right about now." He admitted his anger. "Do you feel like you need some medical help? We have private doctors, they're very nice. I could stay with you the whole time."

Your heart warmed that he remembered another one of your fears, but you still shrugged. "I don't know what I need."

"That's okay" He continued massaging your wrists. "How about we get you out of here and more comfortable at my place then we'll reassess in a bit?"

You nodded in agreement, feeling so thankful that this mess was over and that Steve lived so close. Just as you were about to get up, he slipped in more comforting words.

"I know this is an awful circumstance, but I really am so happy to see you." He admitted.

You slid your wrists out of his hold to grab his hands with yours instead. "I'm happy to see you too" You nodded, more tears falling down your cheeks. "I didn't really even know if you were alive until now."

His eyes softened as he realized he hadn't been seen in the public eye since Thanos snapped, and all his attempts to reach out to you had failed in one way or the other. You didn't even get to know that he did answer the phone when you called.

"I'm so sorry" he cautiously apologized. "You can't get rid of me that easily"

"Thank goodness for that"

Steve stood up and held his hands out for you, you took them once more and he very carefully helped you up. You stumbled upon standing, getting used to being up on your own feet again while feeling so weak from lack of anything in your body, but you caught your balance.

"I've got you" Steve reassured once again. "Everyone is gone by the way, it's just Natasha out there waiting for us."

"What happened to everyone else?" You asked, trying hard not to externally flinch every time Steve moved, his hand cautiously and lightly resided on your lower back. You could tell he was worried that you would fall or else he definitely wouldn't be touching you right now.

"Getting fired" Steve answered honestly, guiding you out of the door.

As you stepped out of the room and turned the corner of the hallway out into the main reception area, you saw Natasha who lit up with a warm smile.

"Sugar cookie, you poor thing" She approached, reaching out to you slowly, squeezing your shoulders before tucking some of your hair behind your ears. "I'm so happy you're okay."

The nickname reminded you of Sam that one night that felt like lifetimes ago, and it pulled your lips upwards into the tiniest smile that prevailed through the tears.

"It's nice to see you again, Nat" You tried to keep up the smile in attempts to be warm to someone who meant a lot to Steve, but it was impossibly hard. "Thanks for the help."

"Of course, anytime." Nat nodded, stepping in front of you to lead you back to their home.

No matter how exciting a grand tour of the fucking Avengers Compound would've been for a small town girl like you, there was an unspoken agreement that now was not the time.

Steve didn't even really find it appropriate to show you around the living space yet before ushering you straight to his room, and getting you set up for the only thing you could actually express want for which was a shower.

After some reassurance that he would be right there waiting for you when you were done, you let hot water calm you before changing into the comfort of Steve's clothes and shyly walking into his room.

It was a lot bigger than you had anticipated, and so much cozier that you thought was possible in a building that felt so cold and mechanical. And just as promised, he was there for you. He sat on his bed, back against the headboard, laptop in front of him and he was talking to someone on the phone.

You listened as you slowly walked over, still feeling like your guard was up and three miles high.

"Yes, we have her." Steve said. "I can confirm she's very much alive and doing okay- relatively unharmed... yes sir.... I'll have her home soon. Yes sir... okay, thank you."

He hung up the phone and put it on his bedside before closing his laptop and doing the same, then all his attention was back on you with a kind grin across his lips.

Unexpectedly to Steve, you walked right up to him. He looked at you with a little concerned pinch in his eyebrows before you got on the bed and wrapped your arms tightly around him.

"Awwwww" Steve audibly cooed, uncontrollably smiling and very cautiously wrapping his arms around your back. "Sweet girl."

"I missed you, baby." You said quietly, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

"I missed you too, so so much" He rubbed comforting stripes down your spine. "I'm so happy to have you here. Are you starting to feel better?"

"A little" You confirmed.

Just in the very short amount of time you've spent since reuniting, even in your scared, clouded brain you could see the guilt looming over Steve and Natasha's heads. You didn't even know if you should bring up what happened, or how to even begin asking him how life has been treating him since the last time you were together.

"It's gonna take some time." He told you as a reminder to keep being easy on yourself. "I just got off the phone with the chief of police in Greenwood, apparently nobody filled them in on the situation so there's been a search party out for you for two days now."

"Can we just tell everyone I was kidnapped?" You asked, half joking. "That's easier than what actually happened."

"I would 100% count that as an abduction."

"And I was saved by Captain America and Black Widow."

Steve giggled and pressed a kiss into your temple. A comfortable silence fell over the two of you, fully letting each others bodies comfort your minds as the passed few months had been nothing but painful.

But you found the courage to lift your head and look at his face, your heart was beating out of your chest even just by really looking at him.

The fading scar, his big blue eyes, the bare cheeks you weren't used to seeing. It all told a story of what he had been through, and your couldn't even begin to grasp it. You were lying in the arms of a man who had just been hurt by the hands of the titan who destroyed half the universe. He had seen the unimaginable, been hurt by beings you'd never even come close to, fought battles for the sake of the universe with the two hands that were holding you close.

It suddenly felt so stupid to be so emotionally destroyed over the nature of your arrest, especially when he was looking right back at you.

"You look good, honey." You complemented, bringing your hand up to trace the scar on his forehead. "A lot different, but still so beautiful."

"I think you've gotten even prettier" Steve complemented.

"Wow, that's shocking" You genuinely smiled. "All I've been doing for the passed few months is staying inside and eating spicy Doritos."

"They're so much better than the normal ones" Steve commented.

"Right?!" You agreed. "Dare I ask you how you've been?"

Steve sighed, his lips pressed into a straight line. "I'll tell you all about it when you're in a little bit of a better place, but all you need to know about it right now is that after it happened I made sure you were still here the very second I could, then after that we just kept trying and haven't stopped since."

"So you've been busy?" You questioned, once again feeling warmed over his thoughtfulness and genuine care over your well-being.

"Yeah, I've been busy." he nodded. "And for whatever it's worth, I hope you've been okay despite what happened."

"I think we're all just trying our best, and that's all we can do."

Steve nodded, trying to think of words to acknowledge the Avengers failure. He promised they would keep you safe, and although you're right here in front of him, there was a 50% chance you could've been gone. Even after you survived the blip, you still were put in a situation that was unsafe by people who worked under the same wing as him. Not only did the Avengers fail, but he failed you.

Now you were here with him, in a place he never would've imagined you in. Your body covered in bruises and his sweatpants, red eyes and nose, and a sad facial expression that would take a while to dissolve.

He really thought that getting absolved of his crimes from the civil war would wash away the guilt he's always felt since as long as he could remember, but now he had a whole new criteria in front of him. A whole new binder stuffed full of pages written with ways he's fucked up, hurt and lost the people he loved. Each page was laminated and slotted into plastic sheet protectors just to make sure he never forgot what was said and done.

His mind ran away from him, guilt ate him away until he felt your soft lips on his and it pulled him right back. Closed eyes and a sigh of relief, being with you was the first time in a while he felt any sense of control. It was as though he was a helium balloon floating through the air, and you caught him and tied the string around your wrist.

"You tried your best, too." You reminded him, seeing his internal battle. Your lips brushing against his.

"We killed him." Steve blurted out. "We lost, but we killed him."

You sat up slightly, trying to process this information. It was obvious the public wasn't being informed of everything, and although Steve wanted to protect your peace, he just couldn't keep that information in.

"What?" You blinked, cocking your head to the side.

"Thanos." Steve confirmed. "We went to a planet that he was hiding away on and we killed him."

You weren't sure what he wanted you do get out of that information, or where he was going with it, but you tried your hardest to understand.

"I was just so... angry. I was thinking about you, and I lost Sam, Bucky- we thought if we got the stones back we could just snap again and everyone would come back but when we got there, they were destroyed. We missed them by one day." Steve explained. "That was our second and only chance, we failed twice. Thor took his head clean off."

"Steve-" you started, but he cut you off.

"We're not giving up but spirits have been very low, morale around here has never been so drab, and I think that's why those agents took their anger out on you. Everyone is just angry."

"Im not angry." You told him.

"I'm sorry" Steve apologized, shaking his head. "You've been through hell and back recently, and I feel like all of it has been because of me, and I'm sorry for that."

"None of this is your fault" You denied. "And I'd do it a thousand times over for you, Honey. You tried your best, you've always done the best you've could and you've done great things because of it. I'm thankful for you."

"Who did you lose?" He asked.

"It doesn't matter" Just like he felt the need to protect you, you needed to protect him. "Not right now at least."

He nodded, understanding where you were coming from. "What is Greenwood like?"

"Well," you sat up more and grinned. "Everyone was very excited that good ol' Cap was in town so your driveway is full of love letters and flowers just for you."

"Awwwww, did Georgia leave me one too?" He joked.

You audibly laughed out loud, "the only thing Georgia sent you was me."

"No way" His eyes got big, mouth hung open.

"Way" you nodded.

"She reported us?" He questioned, stunned at this information.

"Then watched me get taken away, drinking tea like it was a bucket of popcorn at the movie theater." You explained.

"That little-" Steve started, but stopped himself before puffing out a breath. "Ugh! Why!?"

You giggled at his discipline, "not everyone can handle all of your greatness, baby."

"Yeah, yeah." Steve rolled his eyes. "Should I go knock on her door when I get to Greenwood and tell her about how you were found innocent?"

"I think she would beat you with a fly swatter" You smiled.

"I've been shot a few times, I think it would be worth the beating to see the look on her face." Steve giggled.

"Always up to no good, baby." You shook your head with a playful grin.

"It's what I'm known for" Steve agreed.

"I have a question." You said shyly, hands playing with the fabric of his flannel button up.

"What's up?" He welcomed your curiosity.

"So, you're going to take me home but is there anyway you can stay? Even just for a day or two?" The thought of leaving him so soon after you had just got him back was hurting your heart.

"You know, I actually had a visit to Greenwood planned in a week? It was on the team calendar and everything." He told you.

"Really?" You smiled, just the thought made you happy.

"Yeah, I made myself unavailable for the Avengers for three weeks. I thought some time away from here and time with you would be good for me." He explained. "But I'll talk with the team and see if I can just extend it."

"Even if you can't, I'm more than happy now"

"I was thinking maybe you can stay the night here and I'll take you back tomorrow morning? I know it's been a long few days and you probably just want to go home but, if you think you need a doctor there's one just down the hall." He explained.

"Anything to spend more time with you" You nodded, resting your head on his shoulder.

"Maybe Georgia unknowingly did us a favor. Because know you're completely clean of any crime and we finally get a few more minutes." Steve grinned, kissing the top of your head.

"And when you come back to Greenwood we won't have to hide anymore." You pointed out.

"I'm so happy" Steve couldn't control his smile. "But I'll be even happier once I know you're okay."

"I'm feeling so much better now" You admitted. Hungry? Yes. Exhausted? Absolutely. But, "I always feel so safe when you're around."

"I love you so much" He held you just a little tighter, with more confidence it wasn't going to scare you.

"I love you too" You nuzzled into him.

"Okay, now let me catch you up on everything you need to know before being around the Avengers for a day..."

"Oh no" You settled in for what you assumed would be some interesting pointers as he reached for a throw blanket and put it over the two of you.

"They're an interesting bunch, well, half bunch...and there might be a talking Raccoon that comes around..."

Next Part: Homecoming

Tag list: @patzammit @bemysugarbean @buckymydarlingangel @happinessinthebeing @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @differenttyphoonwerewolf @themotherof10 @lokislady82 @talesofadragon @spikeluv84 @xxxalicerogersxx @avid-fic-reader @royalwriteroftheuniverse @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @bitchy-bi-trash @crazyunsexycool @openup-yourmind @selella @kattreffic @benedict-squirtle @magnificentsaladllama

Have any thoughts or theories? Head cannons or scenarios you want me to write of nomad Steve and baker reader? Submit them to my inbox! I’ll add them to the more fun stuff masterlist here!

#steve rogers #steve rogers fluff #captain america #captain america fluff #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #chris evans #steve rogers fanfiction #mcu x reader #chris evans fluff #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #endgame #nice to be kneaded #Natasha Romanoff #bucky barnes smut #marvel #MCU #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #Sam Wilson #Bucky Barnes #captain america fan fiction #captain america series #rogersideup #baker #baker reader #bakery #tony stark #civil war

[her-midas-touch]

⋆⭒˚｡⋆🪐 Introduction post

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ hey lovelies <33 ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆

ੈ✩‧˚ I finally made one after combatting procrastination like the valiant warrior I am *bows dramatically* anyways lol

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ hi! I’m ari :))

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ I’m a sagittarius, intp, and idk exactly which marauder I kin but I’m pretty jegulus core (like somehow both of them at the same time irdk how to explain it lmaoo)

(I also have a little poetry side blog which is (@the-wisteria-cascades)

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚(basic dni criteria applies so if you’re spreading any kind of hate but otherwise I’d love to get to know you 🫶😌✨)

(I will overuse those emojis everywhere btw lol)

₊˚⊹♡ Hobbies : I love reading, writing, occasionally swimming, anything to do with poetry, and overanalyzing literally everything, and occasionally drawing as well (I’d say journaling too but I lack consistency 😭)

₊˚⊹♡ Books: percy jackson, hp (though if I do post it’s mostly about the marauders separating the art from the artist and all that) the book thief, tsoa, the seven husbands of evelyn hugo, aaddtsotu, the burning kingdoms, the hunger games, the inheritance games, the priory of the orange tree, tbosas, red white and royal blue, heroes of olympus, trials of apollo, gone girl, agggtm, one of us is lying, and probably more that I can’t currently remember (book recs are welcome btw bonus points if they’re sapphic 💗)

｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ Shows + Movies : stranger things, young royals, heartstopper, pjo, dickinson are currently the main shows I follow though I adore animated films as well as some animated shows (carmen sandiego and tangled the series) and I’ll probably start some more after exams :)

｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ Music : taylor swift (evermore and reputation girl through and through) zolita, conan grey, girli, cavetown, arctic monkeys, hozier, renee rapp, camila cabello, troye sivan, alec benjamin, occasionally lana del ray, paramore, chappell roan, beth mccarthy, queen, ABBA, olivia rodrigo, sabrina carpenter, fletcher, girl in red, haley kiyoko

｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ Lovely moots (just tagging the ones I’ve interacted with because I’m kinda shy to do all of you so please do let me know if you want to be tagged or removed)

@daydream-of-a-wallflower @silence-between-seconds @good-old-fashioned-lover @stars-over-ice-cream @sweetronancer @jaaklops @awrldalonee @harp-bo-barp @astreinomane @ronance4life42 @moonlightt444 @good-oldfashioned-lover-girl @lilydoeswrite @lost-in-reveriie @annotated-catastrophe @commit-arson-immediately @sleepinginmygrave @bylersrise @half-a-heart-without-you @urbanflorals (+ all my other byler moots I love but am terrified of tagging )

(I definitely didn’t tag everyone here but I love all of you guys so much ahhhh 🫶)

I hope everyone is having a lovely day and taking care of themselves

<33

(pictures are from pinterest and dividers by @saradika-graphics)

#lovely moots #ari says things #intro post

[runwayrunway]

No. 1 - Lufthansa

We begin with a large fish even by the standards of the large pond in which we operate. A very intentionally chosen large fish. Deutsche Lufthansa is Germany’s flag carrier and the second largest carrier in all of Europe by passenger volume. In 2018, they unveiled a new standard livery for their fleet of airplanes, and it...well. It’s this. 

Even the presentation - good lord, is this an auto show?

My feelings on Lufthansa’s 2018 livery are visceral. There’s no mental evaluation required, no taking it in, thinking about the choices made - I look at the modern Lufthansa livery and immediately, profoundly know that I hate it. And that’s not just because of the specific choices made - which are bad - but because of the space they occupy amidst a creatively barren wasteland within livery design. This is going to be a very long post, which isn’t standard for this blog, but my goal for an introduction is to break down exactly the sort of design that made me feel the need to start doing this to begin with. 

But in reality that’s only the beginning. Yes, Lufthansa’s livery is specifically disappointing, but it is so much more than that. It is the purest distillation of the greatest challenge aviation faces today, far weightier than scheduling issues, outdated IT, and runway incursions. It is not the worst example of it, not in the slightest, but it is a large airline which has a very textbook presentation of symptoms and thus feels like a great example to describe exactly what I hate about this sort of design. Let me explain. 

Essentially, airlines have found a formula. It goes as such: 

Almost entirely white body. (There is a name for this trend: Eurowhite.) In some cases, there may be a colour on the underside, generally either a light grey or whichever secondary shade the airline has committed to. In the case of this Lufthansa livery, it is just white. 

Aside from the white body there will be either a single colour (generally some dark blue, or less often some sort of red) or a few colours, usually but not exclusively on flag carriers to match their national branding. (The proliferation of red, white, and blue flags out there means that a disproportionate number of airline liveries are these colours.) Unless it is literally just a white plane meant to be as generic as possible for short turn-overs when leasing, it will at least attempt to have some sort of design, but it will be minimal, and:

All of the detail will be on the tail. There may be coloured winglets or engine nacelles, but other than that it is only at the rear of the plane that you begin to see any interest. Usually this is just a logo, though it may be an abstract design which looks like a default tumblr header. It will often only be on the tail, with nothing at all on the body proper.

The name of the airline written in a sans-serif typeface which is set as default on at least one word processor. Rarely will anything creative be done with this. It will (usually, except in egregious cases) match the impotent attempt at graphic design which has been confined to the empennage and it will have all the charm of a large retail chain’s flyer describing the benefits you’ll definitely totally get if you work for them - sickeningly corporate. Low-cost airlines may slightly vary the theme by putting their website onto the livery, either towards the back or just instead of the airline’s name. The brave will also write it on the ventral fairing, but most don’t even bother with that simple act. Some airlines have their name written in the language spoken in the country they’re based in, usually beside the English text, but most are only in English despite operating in countries where this is not the most widely spoken language. 

Not every livery which has these features is badly designed, as seemingly small changes can make all the difference. There is the occasional livery that fits most, if not all of these features that has some clever tweaks or design choices which makes me actually think it’s fine, acceptable, maybe even decent. (I have taken the initiative of making sure a few of these are among my early posts, just to demonstrate that it can be done). And some airlines depart from this entirely and come up with something even more hideous. Yet I somehow find myself respecting even these more than I do Lufthansa. 

The Corporate Standard Livery Design (Lufthansesque design, if you will) is - and I do not think I am being dramatic at all here - an epidemic. Taxiing through most airports, you sometimes have to actually try to tell the planes parked around you apart in the sea of red, blue, and mostly white. And I spend a lot of time looking at planes.  

These liveries do not only fail to inspire me. They instill in me a profound disgust. They are not trying to be good. They are trying to be what I described earlier - decent, not worth complaining about, because that’s cheaper and easier than designing something good. Graphic design is not anyone’s passion here. They’re just trying to toe the line. They’re so poisoned by the modern minimalist-design brain virus that they don’t realise that to be acceptable a livery this simple needs to do something interesting. There must be a creative decision made somewhere, a compelling feature, or you may as well be flying an MLA-formatted plane. In their striving for adequacy they become not just ambient, but lukewarm. They are a bottle of water which has sat in the sun for so long that when you drink it, even though you’re overheating and parched, it feels only negligibly better than the air you’ve been breathing in. 

To be fair, I do not only hate the Lufthansa paintjob because it exemplifies whatever-ness. Even in an industry saturated with gross in-flight nothingburgers served with some stale biscuits and a paper cup of Lipton tea, Lufthansa manages to offend in specific and unique ways. 

Throughout its long history Lufthansa has had a handful of different liveries, but from 2018 onwards this has been the situation. They’ve never been brilliant, but it’s only gotten worse over time. I normally would commit to a separate post for historical liveries, but in a move that I don’t foresee becoming particularly common I’d like to talk about the history and evolution of Lufthansa’s liveries from the golden age to now - the fall, if you will. 

(image: lufthansa bildarchiv)

Their early liveries were already pretty much plain white or metal, but they still had a few features that made them seem a bit less like photocopy paper which was meant to be printed plain blue but only got through a tenth of the sheet before ink ran out. To begin with, they used a lighter blue and combined it with a vivid yellow to add some actual visual interest. The layering of the yellow over the blue where it curves around and below the nose and on the ends of the tailplane actually draws the eye. The font choice is nice and legible, spaced apart in the center of the fuselage. I imagine it was easy to read even from far away. (Shame it’s a bit blocked by the wings from some angles, though.)

(image: lufthansa bildarchiv)

This early 707 design keeps the cheatlines extending past the nose but makes them sharper than the ones on the Connie to match the sleek profile of the jet. Back when this plane was painted adding white to your plane was a choice rather than the thing everybody was doing, which allows me to respect it for the choice it was instead of considering it the factory default. The bottom half, denoted by the cheatline, is left unpainted, which only adds to the sleekness of the overall profile, and the text is clear and plain but still aesthetically pleasing. The 707 is by modern standards pretty antique-looking; you can take one look at one and tell it isn’t particularly streamlined. This paint scheme, though, makes the plane look sharp and aerodynamic, despite not being revolutionary. I would go so far as to say I like this particular livery. This is, unfortunately, as good as it gets. 

Oh. Oh no...

Let’s assess the damage here. The cheatlines now simply meet at the front without wrapping down to the belly of the plane and the nose is a simple black tip. I like it when airlines paint their planes’ radomes, and I wouldn’t mind it here if not for what it was replacing. The font has been replaced with a generic sans serif font which is closely spaced and put up into a corner, like the name on a homework assignment - it’s not really part of the total package, just there for administrative purposes. Most upsetting to me is the tail. While I wouldn’t say I love the little section on the old plane, it at least felt like it belonged there, creating a second blue-and-yellow layer above the white. Its placement on the fin above where it begins to taper gives the plane a bit of an aerodynamic feel. It’s certainly not changing the world, but it feels at home in the livery. 

The new fin is a sharp downgrade. With nothing to mark the transition the fin abruptly goes from the white of the upper fuselage to a shiny blue which contains an enclave of the only yellow to be found on the entire aircraft. This makes the yellow stand out, as it has nothing to tie it in with the rest of the plane, and the fin itself feels almost like it’s been Frankensteined onto the fuselage from a different plane by a different airline. There’s nothing to mediate the transition from a block of white to a block of blue, like how the cheatline separates white and grey. It just is blue now, stop asking questions. This also means that the only part of the plane that the eye is really drawn to is...the tiny portion of the whole that is the fin, which may as well be floating detached in midair. 

This is foreboding. Knowing what I know now, it feels like looking back at when a romantic partner began to act strange years later, after the divorce, as you walk by the house he bought with his mistress. 

(image: g najberg)

The most recent, and only, time I flew on Lufthansa was in 2014 and was aboard one of their 747-400s. (Actually, if you’d still like to fly on a passenger 747, Lufthansa is basically your only option.) At the time, they looked like this. This is...just sad. They got rid of the cheatlines, because that’s trendy now, and they painted the whole plane white and made an attempt at lip service to the old metal lower half by painting just a bit of the plane grey, like if a human stepped into a puddle of paint that only covered the very sole of their foot. And I’m being generous by showing a 747, a plane which inherently makes any livery look less boring by being interestingly shaped itself, instead of the classic slightly pointy single-decker tube. Not to mention the double-decker design makes the text vertically centered instead of the default Lufthansa look of awkwardly shoved nearly all the way up the fuselage. 

In defense of the modern livery, it’s possible to argue it’s an improvement on this. Honestly, looking at them next to each other, it’s difficult to pick out which one I find less defensible. 

But then you see D-AIDV, an A321 painted in a heritage livery, and you feel the immediate, visceral “no!!! no go back!!!” as you remember that this is a false dichotomy and we could have something so much better if they weren’t peer-pressured into generic modern design. 

And for what? For this?

(image: hvdfonts)

For the third time, I remind you of what we have been reduced to. We have achieved a state of reductio ad absurdum where this barely qualifies as a design. This plane is more or less a white blot. You can put as many insets as you want and it is still a white blot. 

I am relatively sure that the font used is literally Helvetica. EDIT: I have been informed that it is not, in fact, Helvetica, but a custom typeface that happens to look almost exactly like Helvetica. This is, in my own opinion, worse! They did apparently use Helvetica in the past, though. Here is a very detailed description of the design process of the font, which manages to contain a grand total of zero ideas. 

I would hate this on its own already, but it’s also so closely spaced and located so far up that it makes me feel like I’m suffocating. In my own experience as a dyslexic person, kerning is the single weightiest feature when it comes to if I can easily read something or not. While Helvetica, ugly though it may be, is generally considered a very legible font, any benefits from that are more than cancelled out by committing to making sure the entire name of the airline fits between the frontmost two doors with room to spare. It feels almost hostile.

Now, all given, I at least somewhat enjoy the shade of blue used for this livery, which is darker than the normal fare. I do miss the way the grey broke up the endless white space, though, and I mourn the yellow even more - in addition to being something to look at, losing it has also lost any visible reference to the flag of Germany, the country for which Lufthansa is the flag carrier. They don’t even have the black part of the German flag despite that being basically free. If they went for black instead of dark blue I would honestly respect this a hell of a lot more. One of the most recognizable flags in the world and instead your airline looks like a discount SAS.  

Yeah, I said it. If we want to go even further with comparisons by including airlines that aren’t Lufthansa, this is basically the SAS livery. Except not, because the SAS livery does a lot that this doesn’t. 

This is about Lufthansa, not SAS. I’ll look at SAS soon enough, because comparing their look to Lufthansa’s has made me appreciate it in a way I never used to. But I don’t think I need to elaborate too much for it to be clear why SAS’s livery works and Lufthansa’s doesn’t, despite the superficial similarities. SAS took their absolutely horrid previous livery and turned it into something which might not wow anyone but at least feels uniquely theirs, while Lufthansa had something which accomplished much the same and then diluted it into nothingness, Eurowhite writ large. Two washes and you’d wonder if your Lufthansa flight is actually a Smartlynx lease.  

The way that the blue slices into the bottom of the fuselage and doesn’t fully cover the tailfin is...something? It’s a design element. It’s not nearly enough to save it, but it’s a design element. However, this presents another issue specific to Lufthansa’s paint job, best demonstrated with a specific plane: 

(image: lufthansa)

Lufthansa is the world’s largest operator of the Airbus A340, a somewhat eccentric airplane which is perhaps best thought of as a four-engined A330. I love this airplane, and am delighted seeing it overhead on my walk home from work, because Lufthansa is kind enough to operate a daily service with it to my home airport, but that’s beside the point. The point is this: what I have pictured is specifically the A340-600, which is the world’s second longest in-service airliner. Yes, longer than the A380 and the 747-400, and, in fact, only shorter than the 747-800. With a plane this long, the Lufthansa livery creates an incredible look of rear-heaviness. This plane looks like it should uncontrollably pitch up until it’s perpendicular to the ground every time it takes off. Of course this effect is less pronounced on shorter aircraft, but it’s still there, and I dislike it. 

You can barely even tell there’s paint at all on a much smaller plane! And the white bit on the front of the rudder which looks okay on a conventional empennage looks downright horrible when it’s only on the very tip of the t-tail’s forward point. 

Oh, and when you take the windows out for a freighter conversion it gets even worse. 

This is a generic-brand airplane. It genuinely reminds me of generic branding. There is a specific brand that has this exact appearance and I can’t remember what it is but it’s right there and I’m fairly sure I’ve seen it at CVS. I don’t think that’s what you want to go for when designing an airline livery, especially for an airline representing a country, but if Lufthansa wasn’t going for that they’ve failed. 

                  __________________________________________

Overall, Lufthansa’s livery is superbly boring and not terribly well thought out. It’s not worth this absolute dissertation on its own, but I’ve singled it out to complain about general trends, and for that I probably owe it an apology. Said apology is predicated on the fact that it is still a very underwhelming and bad design which could have used a lot more thought. There are a million ways this could have been made decent, and none of them were implemented because that would have taken effort and time and creative vision. I think this post actually required more time and effort than Lufthansa put into designing their planes. 

That said, Lufthansa gets a final grade of D. It’s...bad, it definitely is. There’s the vague flavour of the start of something, like the very distant smell from a barbecue happening three blocks away, but is that really even a redeeming factor? 

No. The second-largest airline in Europe should be able to do better. If I have to stare at rows upon rows of their planes any time I’m at a German airport, they should have the decency to make them interesting to look at. 

#tarmac fashion week #region: europe #region: west/central europe #lufthansa #region: germany #grade: d #era: 2010s #era: 2020s #era: 1950s #era: 1960s #era: 1970s #era: 1980s #era: 1990s #era: 2000s #retired liveries #flag carriers #double sunrise #long haul #lufthansa group #lufthansa line #scandinavian airlines system #deltalike

[slashersteve]

Let's Kiss

pairing: Steve Harrington/Female Reader

summary: It might be the end of the world, and you're for some reason worried about having never been kissed. Steve decides to change that.

warnings/extra tags: friends kissing tm, friends making out tm, reader spirals for a second here, gets a little heated but this isnt my nsfw blog, cursing, beta read, edited by me and autocorrect babey

note: forgive me for writing slowly :') i wanted to experiment with writing more kissing scenes and decided it was a perfect time for you to kiss steve till you were stupid. Thanks for reading and enjoy <3

✧ ✧ ✧

For the third time in your life, it felt like the end of the world, but unlike those times, this time felt as if it actually might be. And you were…not okay if you were being honest. Everyone who was piled into this stolen Winnebago that Eddie Munson hot-wired was not okay, but they seemed to be holding it together better than you. 

When Steve Harrington drove into an open field so that you guys could properly prepare for your battle with Vecna, who was also known as Henry Creel, but also 001, you thought the fresh air would be just what you needed. You were wrong though when you thought of Vecna though, as the guy had shown Nancy some big, big plans of his that had to do with opening up a massive gate in the middle of Hawkins.

In response, you and everyone else here had big plans too, some that involved baiting him with a still cursed Max while the rest of you venture into the Upside Down to try and kill him before his plan could come to fruition. Honestly, it was a good plan, especially with Nancy basically leading all of you, and you couldn’t poke many holes into it…except for one…or some. 

What if he didn’t take the bait with Max? What if Dustin and Eddie’s plan to distract the bats didn’t work? What if you step on a vine and alert the guy? And what if he literally knows everything you’re planning at this exact second and you’re all walking into a trap? 

You don’t usually freak out like this, in fact, you had once prided yourself in your ability to be calm and collected in nearly every situation, but there must be something in the air right now or Vecna/Henry/One somehow got into your head or something because you were on the verge of a whole panic attack. Even Robin was more calm than you were (or at least appeared so).

“Preparation is key,” Nancy had said when going over your plan again when you questioned if it would actually work. And she was right, the first time you were in the Upside Down it was by chance (or force as the bruises around Steve’s neck still gave you uncomfortable chills and dread), but this time you’re going to be practically armed with all the shit you just bought at that angry hick store Eddie suggested while Max baits Vecna. 

God, the thought of anything going wrong made your chest hurt, and you wanted to vomit all over the grass next to Nancy and Max’s feet as she sawed off the barrel of the shotgun.

“I’m- I’m going to go and change,” you said quickly before that could happen. They both glanced at you, and Nancy told you that was fine all the while it looked like Max could see right through you. 

“She looks like she’s about to bail or something,” Max said, watching you make a beeline toward the Winnebago where Steve and Robin were currently sitting outside of. 

Nancy hummed as she returned her focus on the felony she was committing and said, “I’m sure she’s fine.”

You didn’t say so much as a word when you went into the Winnebago and closed it, making Steve and Robin glance at one another before Robin was continuing to make their Molotov bombs with kerosene and empty alcohol bottles. 

Steve’s eyes lingered on the shut door a little longer, noticing your odd demeanor, before reluctantly turning his attention back to the Molotov bombs as well. 

It was in the Winnebago when things took a turn for the worse for you.

You had just finished changing out of your tattered clothing from your first trip in the Upside Down, and now wore the exact same camouflage shirt Steve was wearing and some new pants. You started to spiral, essentially, your thoughts coming at you fast and all at once, thoughts about what could potentially happen and go wrong, about possibly getting killed, which led you to think about a lot of the things you hadn’t done yet. 

You wanted to graduate and attend the college you were already accepted to, then graduate from there, and maybe find a significant other there or something to at least experience that. It was just insane to you that you experienced what it’s like to breathe in the air of another dimension before anything inherently romantic.

It made you wonder if your life would ever be…just normal.

That was when the door was being opened and Steve was walking in without any regard to look specifically for you. When his eyes landed on you, they suddenly squeezed shut and he said, “Shit! Sorry! Were you changing? I’ll just-“ he blindly stepped backwards, knocking into the back of the passenger seat. 

"It's okay! I'm done anyways," you told him, and he opened only one eye slowly before opening both.

"Still, I should've knocked," he laughed awkwardly as he stepped back into the Winnebago and said, "Molotov's are done, Eddie and Dustin's spears and shields are made, Nancy committed a felony...I say we're almost ready."

"Oh," you said a bit shakily, "So soon?"

He nodded, and said, "Yup, we should probably leave soon if we want to make it at sundown."

You dropped your eyes for a second, and forced the nervous exhale from coming out as everyone was on as much edge as you were about everything, and you didn't need to burden any of them with your doubt.

"Are...you ready?" Steve asked suddenly, and you glanced up at him.

"I-" you shut your lips to gulp nervously, then opened them again to say, "I...don't know..."

His eyes looked thoughtful as they stared at you, and he nodded, "Yeah...me either to be honest." He laughed weakly as he leaned on the side and crossed his arms.

You looked up and kept your gaze on him this time as he sighed deeply, "Just talked with Robin, and she thinks it might not work out for us..."

Your heart dropped, "Oh."

"But...she also said that we're crazy, and that...if we don't try and stop him then who will," he licked his dry lips for a second, "And she's right. Whatever happens...we win..or lose...at least we tried."

It was a bitter thought, to think that even if you go in prepared and ready for battle things can still go south. You needed to sit down immediately, and once you did on the couch in the back, you dropped your head in your hands at the thought of the endless possibilities.

"Is this what our lives have been leading up to?" you asked suddenly, voice quivering, "Battling a sadistic clock obsessed guy with powers like El and bad skin who snaps people's bones because he wants to open a giant gate to take over the world? What ever happened to normal lives, you know? Why hasn't our only problems been oh am I going to pass this physics exam or oh my god is he going to call me back? You know normal problems that normal people experience?"

You were rambling in a similar manner like Robin might, and it caught Steve off guard as you hardly ever did anything like that while Robin does it often.

Also, you already looked and sounded like you were defeated before the final battle even began, and Steve disliked that a lot.

"Hey, hey, we beat this guy? Then we'll have those normal problems," Steve tried to comfort you, "If this guy is really the big threat, and we manage to put him down, that'll be the end of everything...hopefully."

You moaned dreadfully, completely ignoring Steve, "There's just so much I should be experiencing, I don't understand why I experienced what it's like to climb up into a ceiling and fall out of the other side before I experience, I don't know, a first date? A first kiss? I know that stuff's not super important but still, it would be nice."

Steve tried to speak, but you were continuing on, your thoughts venturing to other matters besides yourself and it was making him even more concerned with your current state.

"And it's not even just me, like those kids out there? They're so young, one of them is literally cursed, like what the hell is up with that? It’s so fucked up!"

You were continuing to ramble and asking rhetorical question after rhetorical question that Steve had to actually go over to sit next to you and grasp your shoulders to make you stop and look at him.

"Hey!" he said, slightly shaking you as your eyes met, "All this is not helping anybody, especially yourself. I think the same things sometimes, and I wish I had some kind of explanation for you, but I don't even know it."

You stared blankly at him, and he sucked in a tight breath and continued to say, "What I do know is that we really don't have normal lives, and you know, at this point we just kind of have to to live with that-"

"But-"

"I also know," he cut you off, "That if we're going to go down there and try to put an end to this then we need to be prepared and level-headed you know? So...just...tell me what I can do to make you feel better."

His final request was odd to you, as you didn't know what he could do. He could tell you everything was going to be alright, but you'd know it was probably going to be a lie to try and calm you down. Steve knew as much as you did, and it sucked for a moment because you were expecting him to know more. Still, the question did make your heart swell up because of how genuinely nice he was, just being here with you and talking to you, wanting to make you feel better.

You instead took in a deep breath, trying to calm down the pacing of your heart stemmed from your blast of anxiety, and now the typical feeling you get when around the guy as you said, "You...you don't have to do anything. I'm sorry...you're right, tonight could be the end of the world, we're all nervous, but I'm the only stupid one ranting about never having kissed anyone."

You rolled your eyes at your own stupidity, and turned away from Steve to look at the ground.

Beside you, Steve shifted in his spot, and said "You don't have to apologize...I just almost lost you there for a moment."

You laughed weakly, but didn't reply.

Steve looked at you thoughtfully, and cleared his throat gently before saying, "For the record...I don't think you being worried about things like a first kiss is stupid."

"Yes it is Steve," you replied immediately, "In the face of the end of the world? Yeah...it's stupid."

"Well, I don't know, they're probably thinking about things like that too..." Steve trailed off, "Just because you're the only one voicing it doesn't make it stupid."

You pressed your lips together, and shrugged weakly at him in response as you leaned back on the couch now, the top of your head smacking lightly against the back window.

You weren't looking at Steve, because if you were, you probably would've caught a shift in his gaze that meant an idea was coming about, whether it was good or bad, you wouldn't have known until he said it.

And after a few seconds of silence, he did tell you, except you refused to believe you heard him right. 

"What?" you asked, wanting him to repeat it so you don’t look silly.

He coughed into his hand nervously and said, "I could kiss you right now...you know...give you a sense of...normal or something...or to like…cross that off your list."

Steve wasn't looking at you as he repeated himself, which was just as well, because you felt your cheeks heat up and your jaw slightly drop. Not sure if he was just teasing you or something, you muttered, "Normal...normal friends don't kiss each other, Steve."

He laughed breathlessly, and ran his hand over his mouth for a moment before replying, "Friends do help each other though...also pretty sure we established we're not normal."

Now that made you laugh, not a weak or breathless one like before, but a genuine one and you said, "Yeah...that's definitely true.”

He was looking at you now, brown eyes staring right into yours and you saw then that he was serious about it, serious about kissing you and letting you experience at least that before tonight.

It wasn't like you hadn't thought about it before, if that warm feeling he always gave you when he was around, even now, said anything. You've thought about it even before you were friends, when he was a stupid jerk in high school who never looked twice at you but still made you weak in the knees.

After getting to know him more, you wanted to do more than just kiss the guy. You wanted to go on dates with him, hold his hand, make him laugh...all those romantic like things you've only seen in the movies. Would kissing him right now, in a moment like this, be a good move?

At your silence, Steve began to move to stand as he was saying, "God yeah, you're right it's not normal. I'm sorry I offered and made it weird."

Your hand was flying upward to capture his wrist gently, and when your eyes met, your thoughts went away as you realized you had made your answer already. You gave him a single nod, and then said, "Let's kiss."

His gaze remained on yours then, his expression softening slightly as he waited a few seconds before settling back down in the space next to you.

The atmosphere changed drastically then, the color within the Winnebago a pretty golden shade, bouncing off of Steve's face and his brown eyes as they bore into yours. You never really noticed how soft of a brown color his eyes were, maybe because you’ve never been this close enough to see them.

His next question had tore you out of your mesmerized gaze, asking you in a soft, quiet voice you never heard him speak in if you were sure it’s what you wanted.

You nodded, and said in a breathless voice, "Yes I'm sure."

Your heart was beating out of your chest, this time for the reason that any second now you were going to be kissing Steve Harrington, the once King of Hawkins High, and now one of your closest friends. You were nervous, and you were scared, but no more than you were scared about what might happen tonight.

He was just so close to you though, instead of the usual cologne he wore that drove you mad, he smelled like the earth and the pungent smell of the kerosene they used to create molotovs. It really proved that it wasn't just his cologne that drove you mad, it was simply him.

It was him just being here and this close that’s what made you this way, what was making you forget for a second that the end of the world was hours away. Your breath had even hitched and he gently reached upward to cup your cheek, a gesture that made you feel more heat spread across your face and chest.

His eyes flickered to your lips then as he began to move in, and you tensed up as you felt his lips gently graze over your own before they pressed fully against yours.

Though it was just a peck, just two lips touching, you practically melted in your seat when you felt his slightly chapped lips on yours. Your eyes even fluttered shut for a second, and any doubt of this being a bad idea faded at once as you returned the kiss.

When he leaned away from you after a few seconds, you opened your eyes to meet him and he asked with a small smile on the lips that were just on yours, "How was that?"

You were practically breathless as you replied something incoherent, and Steve tilted his head curiously at you, not understanding what you had said, and to be fair you didn’t know either. Your eyes fell back onto his lips, instead wondering if they were tingling like yours currently were, and wondering if he too felt the fire that he ignited in your chest by that simple kiss.

Steve had noticed your eyes had flickered back to his lips, and he exhaled deeply, and moved his hand underneath your chin to make you meet his gaze again. You blinked almost dreamily up at him, and he asked you in that same sweet, soft voice that would be added to your favorite things about him… "Want to do it again?"

Oh, how fast you said yes.

He didn't hesitate after your answer, pressing his lips fully onto yours to quite frankly give you another best first kiss of your life that you were sure nobody could beat even if they tried.

His experienced lips moved against your inexperienced ones, taking control and taking your breath away all at once. His lips were slow and steady on yours, gently sliding along yours and it was you who tilted your head gently in order to deepen it just a little more.

Steve's hand had moved from your chin, rather moving to the back of your head as he exhaled for a moment right onto your lips, and he asked, “Is this okay?” in reference to how quickly heated this kiss was becoming. You responded to him by leaning back in, and he chuckled as you recaptured his lips onto yours.

You didn't know what you were doing, since you've made it clear you've never kissed anyone, let alone like this, but it felt like you were doing something right as you tried to return his kiss with the same intensity as him especially when he hummed against you, his lips slightly vibrating on yours and pulled you impossibly closer to him.

When you felt the swipe of his tongue on your bottom lip, it sort of brought you back to yourself for a moment and he was leaning away again, his cheeks were a blush pink color and he said, “Fuck I’m sorry. We agreed on a kiss, and I’m trying to stick my tongue down your throat.” 

He laughed awkwardly at his own words, and you could only sit there and stare at him all starry eyed, your prior concerns with the end of the world all but gone for even just a few seconds and you replied, “I…I don’t mind.” 

Now you felt like the awkward one when he just stared at you, except you didn’t notice that his eyes were just as starry as yours, and then, the soft brown of his eyes shifted and darkened at your response and you were kissing again, picking off right where you left off. 

Your lips parted and you felt him slip his tongue inside of your mouth, now really drinking you up and your hands flew upward to his sides, sliding them underneath his jacket and you felt him shudder against your hands as they touched his firm back above his shirt that matched yours.

The honest truth was you weren’t thinking about what this may imply, with how good Steve was kissing you and how intoxicated you both were quickly becoming on each other. It didn’t occur to you that Steve has probably been wanting to kiss you like this for a while now.

With your arms around him, you pulled him almost on top of you, your head smacking back against the window again as his tongue explored your mouth and all your worries just floated away as your mind was becoming fuzzy on him and the feeling he was bringing out of you.

“Steve,” you mumbled his name with a voice that was even unrecognizable to you, and it only urged him further, drinking up the next murmur of his name and you dragged your nails into his back (being wearing of his bandage) now feeling a sort of heat settling in the pit of your stomach as he practically devoured you in this Winnebago.

There was no telling where this might’ve gone, or how far either of you would’ve let it go, as Eddie was entering the Winnebago with a slam of the door saying, “Hey! So we’re- holy shit-” 

The rest of his sentence was cut off at the sight of the position you and Steve were currently in. He had come in so fast and unexpectedly that neither you or Steve pulled apart quick enough so Eddie saw, well, everything, especially Steve nearly on top of you and his tongue in your mouth.

All you really could do was pull your lips apart from each other and look at the metalhead with similar, wide eyes.

“Uh…yes?” you asked awkwardly after a few seconds of silence, feeling your cheeks heat up with embarrassment rather than whatever Steve had been making you feel.

Eddie stared at the both of you for a second longer before he cleared his throat and said, “Yeah, some of us need this to change in, so if you want to make out- there’s an entire field out there,” he gestured around almost dramatically, and you blinked a few times, “Right yeah, so I’ll give you guys a moment.” 

Neither you and Steve could properly respond to him as he was out of the vehicle in record time and you could hear some mumbling after the door shut and then Dustin saying quite loudly, “What? No, they’re not together- wait- what?”

A harsher wave of embarrassment came over you this time, realizing what had just happened between you and Steve, how heated it had gotten from a single peck to Steve’s tongue in your mouth and you pulling him on top of you. Your eyes trailed back to meet Steve as he leaned away from you, and your hands were falling to your lap. You wanted to say something, anything, but all that came out was a flustered breath at the loss of warmth you felt underneath his jacket. 

Thankfully, Steve spoke for you, and he asked after an awkward, light cough, “Are you uh- feeling better now?” 

You sat up more, flashing your eyes toward him before you looked down at your lap, noticing you were twiddling your thumbs nervously and all you could do was nod. Steve’s eyes stayed resting on yours, and before you knew it, he put his hand over yours. 

Your eyes lifted to meet him again, and you could see there was a small, almost shy smile on his lips before he said, “I think I want to take you out on your first date too, if we end up saving the world.” 

Your heart skipped a beat at that, and asked stupidly, “As like…a friend thing?” 

He chuckled at your response, and shook his head, “No…no not like a friend thing at all…to be honest what just happened…if it wasn’t clear that wasn’t a friend thing either, I’ve been wanting to do that forever.” 

His cheeks were still flushed, and his voice was still soft and low, only wanting you to hear him. And the way he was looking at you? His eyes were so intense, so adoring. Has he always looked at you like this and you just never noticed? 

You stayed staring at him with a soft, surprised gaze, genuinely taken back by all this, and you decided right then and there that you were going to kill Vecna/Henry/One just to go on this date with Steve and maybe kiss him like you just had until you couldn’t breathe anymore and without interruption. 

#my titles are the worst i am SO sorry i can never match just hold me </3 #this might be one of the final imagines as i wanna focus on cant cheat fate #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #reader insert #female reader #lys writes again

[platonic-pals-punchout]

Spies Are Forever (theatre) | Epithet Erased (webshow & lite novel)

Agent Curt Mega & Tatiana Slozhno:

1. they meet as spies working against each other, and are soon after both sent to seduce the other as part of their respective missions. when tatiana's employers kidnap and torture curt, she betrays them to save him, and then saves him again when he almost gets himself killed by them a second time. curt brings her to his safe house, and his mother assumes they're a couple. they wonder if maybe they should give it a try, they kiss, and then they both confess that they absolutely are not interested in the other like that, and so they decide to just be friends. they take down the bad guys together, and then curt gets passports made for tatiana and her family so they can safely get to the united states and she cans see them again.

Giovanni Potage & Molly Blyndeff:

1. THEY’RE SO SILLYYYYYYY i love them. they’re such a prime example of friendship with an age gap in media, which, i think needs to happen a bit more. i have friends older than me! i have friends younger than me! and also they’re just. goofy. silly 2. Would any friendship bracket truly be complete without this dynamic duo? She’s a serious an disillusioned elementary school student, resigned to her miserable lot in life after years of neglect and doing her family’s taxes. He’s a wacky and optimistic teenager turned supervillain, here to sweep her away from her abusive family. Together, they commit CRIMES! 3. She is an anxious child who has the power to dumb down noises or impacts to help her deal with the literal everything in her life, as she has to balance school and her family’s toy store, especially as her father and sister seem to prioritize their own selves and not care about the family as a whole. Molly is like 11 or something and has to do her family’s taxes! He is a villainous mastermind!…well, he says he is. In actuality, Giovanni is a captain in the Bonzai Blasters, with ambitions of being promoted to Vice Principal…or even Associate Justice or Valedictorian! (Yes. This is how that system is organized) But unlike the rest, he prioritizes the wellbeing of his minions above all else. He’s comfortable with his masculinity, as he knits for his minions and packs them all some soup in case they get hungry. Oh! He also has the power of soup. He can make soup, make steam of soup, and every 13th physical hit from him deals critical damage (that has nothing to do with soup. It’s just what he does). After a heist gone wrong, these two meet, and Giovanni adopts Molly as one of his minions (giving her the minion name “Beartrap”, on account of her bear hoodie. She likes bears). Together, they thwart/do a heist and steal a valuable amulet. Giovanni also distances Molly from the Banzais when the cops show up, so she will not have to worry about legal troubles. Not spoiling much about the book (Prison of Plastic, go read it), but Giovanni continues to stand up for Molly against her family, who continues to write her off. He tries to get her sister to connect with her and soften up. He can’t do much with the dad because he sucks. Giovanni makes sure Molly knows how cool she is as a person and that she doesn’t let herself be walked all over by other people. He helps her stand up for herself, and in turn, she helps him with crime.

Note: This blog is run & followed by aromantics. Insisting any pairs are ~actually romantic~ will not only cause you to be blocked on the spot, but you'll out yourself as someone not safe to be queer around. No one wants to hear how stupid you look with those shipping goggles on.

#round 2 #part 1 #platonic pals punchout #platonic polls #tournament #character tournament #team tournament #fandom poll #spies are forever #epithet erased #prison of plastic spoilers

[thistleation]

Hi lovely blog and art, just chiming in to say I also think Beatrice is ruthless and that she is portrayed as ruthless in warrior nun, she shot a tranquilizer dart in Ava's neck. Like I guess she expected the other to talk to her and convince her of going with them, but ofc ofc she's the one that not only thought about the scenario in which Ava resisted and tried to escape, she arrived there with a solution, mind you, a swift solution that removed agency from Ava. Also she she asks Vincent is removing the halo would mean Ava would die, she's talking about it like she's discussing the weather. Seeing as she was a nun, I was actually expecting her to be like 'but father Vincent we can't even consider that, because the value of human life bla bla, and this is a innocent human life that got caught in the middle of it all', instead cold as ice sister Beatrice's response to the possibility of killing Ava to retrieve the halo was: 'but the politics though' it actually made me laugh. I mean she was raised by diplomatics/politicians ofc she has concepts like 'optics, church PR' in mind. That actually made me realize that even before being a nun, she's above all, a devoted warrior. Above her supposed catholic ethics and compassion is her absolute, unwavering commitment to The Mission. Beatrice is ruthless and I love that about her. Because after Ava, that ruthlessness, that devotion, all of her skills have shifted and she's loyal to Ava with that same ruthlessness

Yes exactly!

I think all of them can be expected to have a certain level of cavalier attitude towards death as any of them who've been on more than a handful of missions can be expected to have killed in the line of duty.

Beatrice though has her upbringing that plays a role as well.

She's been taught from an early age that her feelings are wrong, and her coping strategies for that trauma are repressing her feelings and cold, emotionless logic.

I don't think S1 Beatrice means to be cold and callous, I think she's quite empathetic underneath, even then. It's just that she's so used to trusting the moral aspect of her actions to the church.

Again, her feelings, her judgement can't be trusted — she's been told as much since childhood — so instead she relinquishes those to a higher authority. And what higher authority is there than the church, the literal embodiment of God's will on earth?

And so Beatrice instead focuses on the tactics, the strategy, the logical breakdown of any situation as a problem to be solved, trusting that the problem that was put in front of her was put there by the church and God and is therefore morally right to solve.

Beatrice only focuses on the line.

And eventually, when the situation gets messier, when her love for Ava grows stronger and stronger, and she finds her personal priorities have shifted because she's finally, finally found something for herself to truly live for, that line is still there, and Beatrice can see it clearly.

I'm fond of saying that one of the sexiest things about S2 Beatrice is that she's prepared to turn her back on the mission and let the world burn if it means saving Ava.

There's this post I saw a good while back that said there's an appeal to being loved by a villain, because a villain can put you first, can choose you even if it means thousands of others die, where a hero can only ever put you second, after the greater good.

Beatrice will put Ava first. Before anything else.

I think she realizes that towards the end of S2. I think it scares her, and I think that's partly what led to the "would you come with me" scene.

But in the end when it comes down to it, she still makes the decision. Fuck the mission and fuck the world if that's what it takes, she puts Ava first.

And I love that for her.

#warrior nun #sister beatrice #avatrice #thank you for the compliment as well! #art has been going better since I came out so here's to hoping you'll see a bunch more from me! #I've got another pirate one I'm working on right now and I *promise* I've not forgotten about the big LB splash page for Casper

[the-real-sasuke-uchiha]

Sasuke, I’ve been thinking about this for a few days now. I used to think analyzing people’s reactions to the Uchiha genocide was fascinating. I would say to myself “wow, people treat this like it was some kind of ‘both sides were wrong’ type of thing but I’m sure if it was happening in front of them, they would think differently.” WELL. Now a genocide is happening in front of us and people are REACTING THE SAME WAY. “Oh it’s not a genocide, you are being dramatic.” “They deserved it because they’re all evil.” “Is**** has a right to defend itself against terrorists!” Holy moly… Literally word for word. I feel so naive to have believed in humanity as much as i did.

I feel you, my friend. I never talk about these things because I think it might be upsetting if an anime blog starts talking about real life genocides in between joke posts and memes. I also don't like to parallel fictional and real life crimes for fear that people will find it frivolous and offensive. So please, everyone reading this, know that this is not by any means my intention, and that I am not trying to use real life massacres to justify my take in this fandom or anything, I am just answering a friend here.

I don't know what to say, really, I lost all hope in humanity long ago too. But, it baffles me that I keep seeing people around me repeating the bullshit you describe. And it baffles me mostly because I see this coming too from good people that have nothing to win out of this infamy. Now you are thinking that "good people" would never find excuses to turn a blind eye to a genocide, but I can ensure you they are no monsters, they really aren't. They are not indifferent to human suffering, I saw them committed with other causes, I know they wouldn't hurt a fly, so what is wrong with them?

I am no psychologist so, forgive me if I say something dumb. But I think the thing is, reality is just to damn painful. You just can't accept it like that. A genocide, complete and atrocious extermination of a whole group of people, just because? Just based on hate and lies? Just to steal their land? And you are comfortable at your home, safe just out of sheer luck, because you were born in the right moment in the right place. Two very agonizing realities arise when you become aware of this. The first one is that you, citizen of the so-called "free world", convinced during your whole life that you have the voice and the power in your very democratic country, are practically impotent; unable to do anything or to help anyone, unable to even get your government to officially condemn the genocide, let alone to get them to stop sending weapons to the perpetrator. The second one is that you are only safe until your annihilation can be of purpose to the geopolitical interests of some dominant global power.

So, I believe blaming the victim is a defence mechanism to help us convince ourselves that bad things happen for a reason and that we could never be subjected to such cruelty. Similar to when we blame poor starving people for their bad choices, or when we blame women for being raped because, you know, they were dressed like that, they drank or whatever. We want to believe that we know better, that we are safe because we are clever and not because we are lucky, because that would mean our luck could end one day and we could be susceptible to monstrosities any time. And I guess that is unbearable.

And then, of course, we have the media bringing us those excuses. Thoroughly. Picturing the victims as terrorists for defending themselves and the aggressor as a victim with legit reasons to commit a genocide. It is extremely well-thought and intentional, from the language they use to the things that they decide to tell or not. They know very well how to manipulate people and how to redirect their feelings and empathy to fit the goals and interests of the very rich people behind mass media. Many people speak only one language, never left their homes, never met a foreigner. They have access only to mainstream tv channels and newspapers, and they will never believe anything different from what they consider "official". And you would expect something more from educated people, but even the school curriculum is designed to shape your mind in a particular way that fits the political interests of your nation.

And going back to fiction, of course, I understand that people have a right to enjoy whatever they want and like any character they want and this is no reason to judge their morality. But, indeed, like you, I also find parallels between the excuses people give to overlook or justify fictional massacres and the real ones. I guess fiction mirrors reality and this is why, sometimes, we live this fandom a bit to viscerally. Because when you see someone justifying a fictional genocide you imagine them doing the same in reality and, well. As you say, we don't really need to imagine that at all, it is happening.

#ask #abstractwithahumanheart #sorry this was kind of too long

[cyncerity]

About the situation

ok so i hate addressing drama on here but this feels important.

If this is how you’re learning about the Shubble situation, i apologize

more under the cut

first things first: i 100% stand with and believe Shubble. My heart is with her fully and I’m so glad she’s healing from what she went through with her abuser.

the reason im posting this, though, is because of the discourse surrounding Wilbur Soot and the possibility/evidence that he was the unnamed abuser Shubble was talking about. And as many of you know, i post a lot of crimeboy/sbi/wilbur-centric stuff. For now, because from what i can tell the situation is less than a week old, i’m going to give Wilbur time to respond. I won’t say that it’s him, i won’t say that it’s not him, but i’m prepared for the worst.

As for this blog, i’m probably going to handle this the same way i handled the Dream situation; i’m going to take a break from Wilbur centric aus for the moment until things become clearer, but the odds that i’ll stop writing for his character all together are slim. I don’t write with ccs in mind, ever, period. At this point i’m treating the dsmp cast like OCs with how far removed from their og characters they tend to be in my stories. In all honestly, i stopped watching half of these creators over a year ago, but i still like the idea of their dsmp characters. Hell, to be completely truthful i don’t think i’ve ever watched a Dream or Sapnap youtube video in full and those two are main characters in like half of my aus.

Also clarification just so this doesn’t get misconstrued: when i say “i’m going to handle this like the Dream situation,” i mean i’m gonna keep writing and not take down my previous stories, i’m just going to distance myself from the creator until more comes to light. I don’t want to compare Shubble’s experiences with abuse to fakes snapchat screenshots posted on twitter. Again, I stand with and believe Shubble’s story 100%, abuse is not something to be taken lightly and I wish her nothing but the best. It takes guts to speak out like she has and I commend her bravery.

This situation is a bit harder for me than the Dream one, though, because as I mentioned, i was never a huge cc!Dream fan, more a c!Dream fan. But I’ll be devastated if this is all true because I was a huge Wilbur Soot fan. Never really liked LoveJoy, just wasn’t my type of music, but SootHouse was quite literally the first YouTube channel i ever watched. Not to be parasocial, but Wilbur’s videos got me through some tough times. His YLYL videos were the only things that brought me joy when Techno’s death announcement was released on my birthday. I really looked up to him.

I don’t want to make this about me, the main thing in this situation is to support Shubble. No matter who the ex is, she deserves all of our unwavering support right now. I hope that if it wasn’t Wilbur that he somehow clears his name soon, but that if it was (im hoping it’s not but im not ignorant enough to blindly disregard all the evidence) that he regrets what he did and is getting help. I believe people can change and that everyone deserves a second chance, but im not going to know what to think of him until he gives a genuine, heartfelt apology for his actions, fully commits to bettering himself, and proves that he’ll never do something like this again.

#tw abuse #cyncerity #mcyt gt #mcyt g/t #cynpsa #i’m not gonna tag their names; this post is for my mcyt g/t audience #and if there are aus that include him that y’all are hoping i’ll finish: #hopefully i’ll get to them #i’d hate to leave anything on this blog unfinished #especially with how much time and care went into the stories and with how much love they were shown by you all #and cause i’m a perfectionist and a completionist even if it takes literal years #but mainly the first thing

[sharonisthebettercarter]

you were so obsessed with her grooming people and then mentioned her son in the middle of it

how is anyone supposed to keep track of what you’re accusing her of

the only reason her son is still alive is that he got injected with v by the by

and homelander is the reason teddy almost died but i guess that’s not his fault either nothing ever is because someone groomed him

oh no sweetie, *canon confirmed grooming* and *sexual abuse* among a myriad of other things. very obvious, textbook defined, on screen literally shown to us multiple times, watch the shit again or look up those definitions.

and the only reason marie's parents died was *because she was injected with v*

teddy's a fucking orphan at the red river institute because of his mother and may very well end up tortured, captured, if not killed by butcher or vought *because he was injected with v*

homelander is not the reason teddy almost died.

BUTCHER is the reason teddy almost died because he set off the fucking bomb when there was no need for that. but if you want to play the 'let's go back in time blame game', then uh yeah, it *still* stems back to MADELYN and VOGELBAUM and STAN EDGAR, because of the shit they pulled with first homelander, and then becca, which set butcher off.

and yes, i mentioned her son, *because he was another victim*. like starlight, like maeve, like homelander, like any of the woman she intimidated into silence.

you're so obsessed with defending your capitalist racist white anti-feminism rape culture supporting 'girl boss', you can't take two seconds to acknowledge a single thing she did wrong, let alone let someone fucking breathe for doing so.

i am not the one sending in rank ass anon harrassment to a random person on the internet because i can't fucking cope with the fact someone points out the actual villainy of a fucking *villain*. and i don't go around being part of the 'deny the villain's crimes because we like them/insert reason' club, we acknowledge the crimes and talk nuance when there's some to be seen, and then we move the fuck on whether we like the villain or not.

homelander's, nor billy butcher's, nor vogelbaum's, nor stan edgar's, nor the deep's, *nor any other fucking crimes committed by the men in the series are excuses for the crimes madelyn stillwell committed*, nor has ANYONE excused any of the men for the crimes stillwell committed.

because that's not how crimes fucking work and that's called *whataboutism*.

make a rant in your own space on your own blog defending her if you care so fucking much, leave me the fuck alone, and i'll leave you alone

again. reading. comprehension.

i ain't fittin' to defend a literally confirmed groomer or child abuser--because *and ONLY because* she's a women. i'd've made the same fucking rants about stillwell had she been portrayed by a man with the same fucking insidious, sexually abusive bullshit--and i probably wouldn't be getting harrased by some rabid pedo defending anon for it so go figure~<3!

get the fuck out of here with that shit.

get a fucking life or go masterbate to your groomer goddess, i do not fucking care how much you adore madelyn over all her victims, including her son.

madelyn stillwell was a GREAT villain and a terrible fucking person who hurt countless people for the sake of profit, and none of that has absolutely anything to do with her 'wOmAnHoOd'. end of.

#disgusting #anon bullshit #tw grooming #tw abuse apologism #tw child abuse #seriously #what is wrong with you #madelyn stillwell #teddy stillwell #homelander #billy butcher #gross #tw harrassment #keep sending these asks and i will keep putting you on blast #whataboutism #tw sa #rape

[carpisuns]

I just wanna say I have an old post of yours saved in my drafts, about being a beginner artist…. I look at it sometimes to give me perspective and reassurance. Thank you. It has inspired me to continue my hobby/passion even if I don’t get many notes rn. I improve and I see it! Thats all that matters. Thank you. I hope I can be that for someone someday.

oh wow 😭 this just warmed my heart—thank you for sharing with me. i don't know what post you're talking about specifically, but i'm so glad that something i said could give you a little extra boost sometimes<3

it's both cool and sort of embarrassing that this blog is a record of my entire art journey. i didn't start learning how to draw until i got into ML and joined tumblr again about 3.5 years ago, so it has my very earliest art as well as my most recent. the other day my sister and i went through my art tag and i was literally crying with laughter at some of those pieces alskjdf (particularly this one). they're sooo bad but they were my best work at the time! as much as i cringe to look at them now, it's nice to remember how far I've come. There are still so many things I struggle with and things i disappoint myself about, but that's normal because I am still growing. no one stops growing. the artists you look up to the most, whose work seems absolutely flawless to you, are still growing.

and YOU are growing too! whether you feel like you are or not. sometimes it takes looking back to realize it. i'm really glad you can see your improvement! honestly, that's a skill too! having a healthy mindset about your own development can take a lot of internal work so I'm really proud of you for that.

(i got very rambly so cut for the rest lol)

and honestly sometimes the improvement isn't even about what the art looks like—it can just be about how you feel about making it. I think one of my biggest improvements in the last year was getting comfortable with drawing and sharing things that are Bad and Ugly! for example:

the first one i drew 3 years ago, just a few months into learning how to draw. the second one i drew about a month ago. they both have obvious flaws and you could even argue that the old one is better drawn than the newer one. so it's like omg did i not improve at all after over 3 years?? did i actually get worse? lol. no! because a lot of the improvement is internal.

you'll notice that the first one was done in pencil and the second one is pen. it took me years to feel confident enough to sketch in pen because you can't erase! you have to commit to the lines! you can actually see tons of erase marks in the first one, but i didnt even use my white-erase tape at all on the second one. also, the first one is a screen redraw. i was just looking at the image and trying to replicate what i saw the best i can. the second one is new scenes/poses that came from my brain—not that they are very complicated/impressive lol, but there's a difference there. and what you can't see at all is just my attitude about drawing them! i can't particularly remember doing the first one but i guarantee i spent forever on it and was nervous about posting it. second one probably took me 7 mins and i knew it was ugly but i was zero percent embarrassed about that lol. that's progress baby!! cant even tell you how much of a difference it has made to me to let myself draw ugly things. i draw ugly things all the time. some of them get posted online. some of them get shared with one or two friends. some of them get shared with no one. and i've finally learned how to either embrace them as what they are or just shrug it off and go, "you know, this is not it! moving on." blank pages are so intimidating because you have a million opportunities to mess things up, but you also have a million opportunities to explore and learn and experiment and have fun and also to surprise yourself with what you're capable of.

i started out with nothing but a pencil and some powerful blorbo brainrot, and that was enough! that has been enough to power me through years of all the struggles and triumphs that artists go through. it was enough to help me push through every art block and keep drawing to the point that my instincts have improved and things that used to be almost impossible for me are just regular hard lol. i've actually illustrated for a print magazine a few times now, and a few weeks ago i finished my first animatic—which i always wanted to do but didn't have the skill or confidence for.

sorry this is so long, i'm just very passionate about this subject lol!! i just want every growing artist to know that if you keep trying and having fun, improvement is not only possible but inevitable. like, you don't even have to do formal studies if you don't want to. keep looking at art that you like and figuring out what is appealing to you. keep drawing what you feel like drawing. if you're no longer inspired by a piece or it's a little too tough for you right now, it's ok to drop it. you can come back later or never. you have infinite opportunities to make new and better art. and don't forget to give yourself credit for the progress you've already made. it's so hard not to compare yourself to others, and literally everyone—even the best and brightest—feels bad about their work sometimes. but try to compare yourself to your past self and pat yourself on the back for your improvement! it's okay to grow slowly, or in a way that's not so visible on the outside. just remember that you are growing, and you will only get better and better.

also, side note about notes/likes: i know it sucks to feel like your work is not getting attention when you poured a lot into it :( this might sound rich coming from me because i feel that people have been incredibly generous toward my work from the very beginning. but just know that popularity is not really about who "deserves" what, and it's not an accurate reflection of skill either. so if you feel unseen, that doesn't mean your stuff sucks. and you never know what your work might have meant to the people who saw it, even if there aren't that many. art doesn't have to be popular to be meaningful, and it doesn't have to be perfect either.

the world is a little richer and more beautiful because of the ways you are growing and the things you are sharing. so thank you, and please don't stop.

#anon #ask #nice things #positivity #art

[honeybcj]

I just binged read your rosekiller fic show me those pretty white jaws and its probably one of my favorite fics now? Its so comforting and cozy?? If that makes sense

And your evan is so different from my own but i like hiim sooo mucchh and you made them so soft and sweet and i love that..

There is nothing wrong with feral, menacing murder husband that people usually portray them as..but this one..THEY DESERVEE EACH OTHER's SWEETNESS COME OOONNN

There is so much i want to say about this fic..you made me see them in such a different lightning and im so here for it...cant wait for the new update and see how the story unfolds..my heart is breaking for barty because i feel like everyone views him as this psycho with no feelimg towards other and then Evan just sees through him and brings out his softer side? Oh cmooon..Also Evan calling him B? Thats my fav nickname from Evan to Barty EVER..im just soo raaaghhh about them i have so many things I want to comment on but this ask is already too long

Anyways love your work!! You're very talented!! And so so sooo sweet and caring on your blog definetly one of my fav people on here

today was Rough and this just brought me so much joy. imagine me curled up on my couch, blushing like a fool and near tears because this is so sweet??? you binged all of it??? that’s literally so wild to me!!! it makes me so happy to hear all the wonderful things you have to say about that fic because it’s my baby, my pride and joy.

murder husbands is soooo good, but i really wanted to take a stab at writing something sweet and a little fluffy for these two while also discussing some deeper topics. this fic is so special to me, and barty’s story is one that i hold very close to my heart.

there’s A Lot of things that jaws barty has done in his past that explain why people sometimes treat him the way they do, but as he grows and opens up, with countless thanks to evan, they start to see barty in a new light. barty has trauma, literally in canon and in the fic, and i feel like his character deserves the opportunity to heal—he deserves a second chance for all the wrongs he’s committed in his life.

i adore talking about show me those pretty white jaws, so this was one of the sweetest things to receive, especially after a not so great day. i appreciate you so very much, and thank you endlessly for the time you put into reading my work. it means the absolute world to me.

i’m proud of myself for cultivating a safe, loving space for everyone to share their thoughts and feelings. it’s all about support and love over here. giving you a big ole kiss nonnie!! i hope you’re day has treated you kindly <333

#han’s asks #rosekiller #fic: show me those pretty white jaws

[jbird-the-manwich]

jesus christ, that was NOT clear from your post. being condescending isnt helping you come off any better, literally did not know about offline ways to do it.

anyone who had examined my blog in the least, or my tags I mention on my ai posts with any sort of interest in critically examining the things I say and defining for themselves missing context with an intent to learn more about a topic that illicits in them a kneejerk utterance.... would've simply not come off like such a dumbass. rather than simply repeating an ECHO of .... the last thing they heard on social media??? (much like an untrained ai, or a conservative, tbh) to someone far, far, far more well versed in your chosen just-for-popularity-based-entirely-in-anti-intellectualism-ass-factually irrellevent guilt trip, you could've shut the fuck up for free and examined and LEARNED. FOR FREE. ENOUGH. ON MY LITTLE TUMBLR. To not make that mistake. Think a second for how much nicer the world would be if only people who had verified their statements to be true and correct for the context EVER. FUCKING. SPOKE.

You'd've learn that I don't use chatgpt, chatgpt is not smart enough to hold me, I use bard, and when something smarter comes along, ill know about that before you do too, especially if you don't change the way you verify statements THAT YOU MAKE WITHOUT BEING INVITED ANYWHERE. You'd also know I'm a right fun sort if you're not an ECHO.

so uhhhh that's still on you. for not knowing shit about what you talk about. As I had said. And approaching me on FIRST INTERACT with some kinda fun fact im supposed to be new to. Why? You think smart people are a myth? We're out here. And we're tired.

And hey I'm not just a sexy hacker I'm also a witch so here's a fun spell my followers have seen but you probably don't know:

Take, to a stream running north, the entire basket of my fucks,

and commit them to the waters;

The one that floats against the current, shall be the one I most especially don't give about the opinions of people who SAY SHIT IN MY INBOX WHEN THEY DON'T KNOW NOTHIN ABOUT THEIR CHOSEN TOPIC OF MISINFORMED GUILT TRIP OR HOW I COME OFF WHEN ACCOSTED BY SUCH MOTHERFUCKERS MAKING THE MISTAKE YOU MADE LIKE THE INTELLECTUAL EQUIVALENT OF A PISSANT.

I'm also a hillbilly. so a traditional hillbilly greeting, for you, and people who do like you when they could've bothered to learn something about anything, or anybody, BEFORE THEY SPOKE:

Fuck off somewhere, and when you get there, do better, asshat. The shit is embarassing. I don't owe you civility when you're showing up for the thrill of making *me* look stupid. I can smell my own inbox bro. I'm not dumb.

And anyway about the environment:

DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY NATIVE SPECIES I PLANT IN A WEEK?!?!?!?!

no. Cuz you didn't fuckin ask you just assume shit. It's a right several.

See? Now we're learning.

This is so fun for me you people don't even know. I'm gonna make everyone who shows up on my porch either LAUGH or GET SMARTER and if you show up with dumb shit.... *You're* the joke.

Thanks for stopping by. ☜(ﾟヮﾟ☜)

#ai #do not reblog #thanks

[litrouke-works]

January Postmortem

(I know this is a Goncharov blog now, but i ought to wrap up my IFComp entry, I guess. Here are some of my thoughts on the game.)

THE SHORT VERSION

I’m not very good at saying things directly; I prefer to dress them up in stories and let people make of the anecdotes what they will. So we’ll open this postmortem with one such story.

Once upon a time, many bad things happened to me. When I was telling my friend about one of them, she said, “I’m sorry that happened to you.” And me being me, I replied, “Do you mind using a different phrase? Maybe, I’m sorry you had to deal with that or I’m sorry you went through that or wow that sucks – any of those would be fine.”

I’m aware that I’m not the hero of anyone’s story. But even if I’m not the hero, at least let me be the protagonist of my life. Let me deal with things; let me endure things; let me go through them. Don’t let them happen to me as if I’m already stretched out decaying in the ground.

And that’s pretty much all there is to the game. Could’ve saved myself a lot of hours by writing that instead! So thanks for reading, and as a special reward, here’s my playlist for January. Once again, me being me, it’s a playlist of poetry, not music. 😊 Enjoy!

THE LONG VERSION

Before we get into the meat of it, a clarification: I’ll use January to refer to the work as a whole (which I will also call a story, a game, a thing, whatever) and January to refer to the protagonist.

Also warnings for spoilers and for very frank discussions of suicide, gore, bodily functions, vulgar language, etc.

So January’s story has been kicking around in my head for some time, maybe 3-5 years, but I couldn't find a good reason to share it with other people. It was just another apocalyptic story about some sad guy, a genre woefully oversaturated and out of vogue even five years ago. Some of the scenes survived from early drafts nearly verbatim (including the opening line, which has never changed), but most did not. For example, in the canonical version of the story (yes, my personal canon is different from my published canon), January finds a dog as well, who is a perfect delight. But Dog’s arrival botched the pacing of the story and sweetened the scenes too much, so she had to be cut.

Anyway, while I was nudging the idea of January’s story around in my mind, two things happened. First, I was working on a research project about how people cope with major life shifts, especially illness, via storytelling and the re-imagination of self through narrative [see: The Wounded Storyteller by Arthur Frank]. And second, the many aforementioned bad things happened to me. Between my own experiences and the narrative theories I was studying, I felt that I could do something meaningful with January’s story. I wanted to use interactive fiction to show the linkage between moments across time and between the internal and external self, in ways that linear prose can't.

As a result, I think of the story as functioning on three-ish levels.

Level One

First, there is the literal plot. As many reviewers noted, this is the least important of the three. Guy survives apocalypse; his brother and sister-in-law get infected; he feels mortally responsible for their deaths, but can’t quite bring himself to commit suicide; he spends the next year working through the guilt and grief; he adopts Cat along the way; eventually he returns to the other survivors and resolves to stay alive for now.

Happy to answer specific questions about the plot, if folks are curious! But I won’t bog us down with details here.

Level Two

Second, there is the meta plot. As mentioned above, January is a story about storytelling, or more precisely, it is a story about how autobiographical storytelling assists in reforming the concept of self after a major life rupture. Hence the epigraph of the game:

One of story's primary purposes is to lay claim to experience. Autobiographical storytelling can take personal experience back from silence, shame, fear, or oblivion. It says, "I cherish this" or "This haunts me."

It asserts the significance of events in one's life: "This happened to me." "I did this." "This is part of who I am." "This should not or will not disappear, and I act to preserve it by turning it to words and shaping them as story."

Initially this concept was going to be more, let’s say, heavy-handed. More explicit, with four+ versions of each scene involving revisions, removals, and additions of commentary from January as he gradually shook off the coma of grief and refashioned the telling of each scene to better suit his new sense of self.

For various reasons: no. This plan was not only logistically unsound, but also narratively questionable because January did not want to speak for most of the story; he certainly did not want to add cutesy notes to the detritus of his life. So I aimed to unfold the concept in a more natural way, with descriptions progressing from abstracted, painfully detailed and impersonal landscapes, to a more natural flow of action and commentary, to casual cussing and chattiness with the cat, and finally to first-person POV.

Not that it is an entirely linear progression. The narrative—the narrator—the author—all of us argue constantly and intertextually with each other about what should be kept in the story, about what “should not or will not disappear.” Indeed, there were many times that I continued to work on the game only because I promised myself that I'd delete it all when I was done, once I had properly excised this from myself.

I finally managed to counter that argument with, “Well, but what if someone else benefits from it?” I find comfort in consuming media about suicide when I feel that way, and there’s a separate essay here about normalizing and validating mental health struggles, but let’s table that one for now. But knowing how I appreciate that kind of media myself, it seemed petty, if not outright unkind, to refuse to share January.

That particular arguments comes through, for example, in the post-POV-shift train scene. January relates how he peeled the dying woman off the frozen train and wrapped her in a tarp "just in case" she changes her mind, as he did. The woman is, by all accounts, a half-corpse already and actively being devoured by an omen of death, but until you are sitting there feeling yourself die, you don’t know, I promise you, you don’t know whether you will change your mind. And far be it from him to decide for her—so here is the tarp, here is the story. Do with it what you will.

This concept also crystallizes in the final pre-POV-shift scene and the POV shift itself. As January falls ill with fever, he has a nightmarish remembrance from his childhood, opening with, “In the story he told himself about his life, death found him one night…” It’s one of the more inelegant phrases in the game, in the story he told himself about his life, but it’s exactly how it needed to be said. Every scene that has been presented to the reader is part of the story that January tells himself about his life. What you read was not his life. It was not even a factual attempt to recount his life; it is only the version(s) of the story that he chooses to tell himself.

This is critical, both to the reader and to January, and he tries to stress to us the fictionality of his account, many times, in many ways. He says that he cannot have slept for multiple days after the fever and the dream of drinking from the bowl of stars with Cat; he cannot have survived his initial suicide attempt in the parking lot; he should not have heard gunshots by the sisters’ house without glimpsing his pursuer or attracting zombies; he should have smelled the hanged man rotting; he should have noticed the presence of the little girl in the dogtrot house sooner, or she should’ve already been dead. And of course, he should have killed himself after they died. (And probably a cat shouldn’t be able to speak to him or understand him.)

Guilt and grief contribute to the instability of his account, but they don’t fully explain it. I do not want to pitch this as an unreliable narrator whose memories are wracked by trauma—quite the opposite. Rather than treating memories as sacred truths that should (or even could) be accurate, memories in January are tools of self-examination, things to be laid out and sifted through in an effort to process trauma. If the memories need to be reworked, details fudged, inconsistencies introduced, in order to make them fit better into his new self, all the better. There’s no one left alive to tell him that he’s remembering things wrong anyway.

(Sidenote: as someone who tends toward SDAM, I have a pretty irreverent view of memories. And I know that the memories I do have are factually inaccurate. I know this because I transitioned genders in adulthood, and yet all my childhood memories have been revised to fit my real gender, not the one I mistakenly happened to be as a child. In my memories, people always call me by the right name, even though that name didn’t exist twenty years ago.)

I want to highlight one more example of revisionary self-history in January that does not involve the POV shift. In the second scene of the game, in which January explores the dogtrot house, he describes the pain of his bruised ankle thus: “He breathed through the red. He imagined the bruise oozing through his sock like an open wound, dyeing the wool a deep, mashed, mulberry purple.”

Many months later, after January mercy-kills the hanged man, he describes the scene thus: “Red spilled from its neck. Pure blood red, not bilious or spoilt-black. From the collar of his shirt up to his chin, the man's neck was mashed mulberry with deep bruises, and these must have continued into his face, but he could not see the face now and did not want to remember.”

To the reader, chronologically the ankle description comes first. But this is a narrative illusion. Everything in the game has already happened by the time the first scene loads. Thus, when we read the earliest scenes, we have to view them through the lens of the later ones—that is, January himself views his earlier memories through the lens of later events, as all humans do. To be specific, when January tries to think of how to describe his bruised ankle, his mind twitches back to the morbid sight of the hanged man’s throat (that he “did not want to remember” but that insists on being remembered anyway), and he uses that real event as a blueprint to imagine how his pain might appear.

A couple reviewers asked why anyone would bother to read the scenes out of order. I think this is the heart of the answer—because in January’s mind, the scenes do not proceed in order of chronology, they proceed in order of random association, just as you might remember a pair of birthday parties from when you were twenty and when you were twelve. The memories/scenes float together in a pool of associations. They gossip and converse with each other, stealing descriptions, reusing phrases, imprinting later images on earlier events, and referencing later events that the reader hasn’t experienced yet, although January has. Accessing them out of order opens the door to serendipitous connections between descriptions and better reflects the sensation of remembrance, I think—but as we’ve covered, I have a pretty weird memory system, so take that with a grain of salt.

I swear we are almost done with this section. LAST THING, I do want to address the POV shift directly. There is something very me about writing a story obsessed with agency while refusing to give the reader any. Sorry! But this goes back to the fact that January is telling himself this story. He is not telling it to you, you are not a character or an actor here, and so your agency is largely non-existent and unimportant. What matters is January waking up, re-becoming the protagonist of his own story, and eventually claiming ownership of it via the POV shift. I think this is the most obvious part of the game to grasp, so I won’t dwell on it any longer. 😊

Or will I. (Yes, I wrote this section at 1:45am, how can you tell.)

Level Three

So we have the basic plot, we have the meta plot, and now we have… let’s call it, the personal plot, as the third layer of this shitcake. We are now stepping completely outside the narrative/the narrator and into my little brain.

Earlier I mentioned that I was researching how people use stories to cope, especially in the context of illness. Let us use “illness” very broadly to mean “disruptive health event,” anything from a severe injury to the development of a disability to a cancer diagnosis to mental health issues to chronic pain conditions to et cetera. In short, something that fucks you up.

Let us now imagine that many of the bad things that happened to me can be counted as “illness” and that they did fuck me up. Finally, let us allow the author to project their own grief and recovery process onto the two previous levels of plot. Et voila, we have a personal disability plot hiding in the game the whole time.

I don’t want to say too much about this, because one, it is quite personal, two, I don’t want it to affect other people’s readings of January–I don’t want to impose this as the “right” reading, and three, there’s so much overlap between this and the previous section that not much more needs to be said. We are still dealing with a life disruption, a loss of sense of self, an adriftness, a feeling of one’s life traveling on without you, of things Happening to You, a painful self-examination and reconstruction of a new self, and finally an ascent to some kind of agency.

The one thing I do want to highlight in terms of an illness/disability reading is the motif of eating that runs throughout January. Healthy folks may not immediately connect eating to illness, but boy howdy, are they intertwined. Eating is a nightmare for almost any kind of severe health condition. For example: you get the nausea and vomiting from chemo, you get the constipation from pain meds, you get your body trying to self-destruct via diabetes or celiac if you eat this or don’t eat it or eat too much or too little, you get a ravenous appetite from the mood swings, you get your appetite killed by stimulants, you are spitting up acid, you are shitting liquid, your fork won’t stop shaking, and you can’t get the food to your mouth. And so on.

Eating is such a fascinating, multi-valent concept in fiction. In this game alone, it encompasses the zombies’ unrelenting, deranged voraciousness and the tender little sight of January choking down kibble so that Cat feels safe enough to eat with him and the anxious morbidity of January insisting that Cat eat him after he dies. Which is to say, there are so many ways to read the concept of eating, but I’ll limit myself to commenting on it from this angle.

The first several scenes frame food within frustration: it is a necessity (January forces down the kibble in the dogtrot house, thinking of it strictly as “sustenance”), it is a repulsion (the charred meat in the train scene, mostly likely human flesh; the guilty dwelling on meat after the bird dream), and it is a thing-to-be-earned (the mangy cat doesn’t deserve kibble, January remarks, but we get the sense that maybe January doesn’t feel like he deserves it either). Ultimately, food and eating are symptoms of being alive, and that is anathema to January in the early game. Each meal forces him to recognize how hard he is working to stay alive despite the feeling that he ought to be dead. It’s a slap in the face.

In the mid-game, eating/surviving becomes something more rote, still unpleasant but not as guilt-wrought. January eats alongside Cat because that’s what they do. After Cat tries to feed him an oriole when he’s constipated and skipping meals, January later tries to return the favor by luring in a whole flock of birds for sick Cat to hunt. (Is it notable that both of their avian attempts to feed each other are failures?) Of course eating/surviving/being alive also runs the risk of being dead, as highlighted by the scene where Cat seems on the cusp of death after eating some plant he shouldn’t have. While pleading with Cat, January asks what he’s supposed to do with all the food he scavenged for Cat—what is he supposed to do with all this effort at being alive, if it just comes to this again? And the thing is, it will always come to this. All the living in the world will always come to death. This is the heart of January’s own near-death scene, in the next month, when he sees a gray sky full of ghosts and declares “there was no hope in it.” There’s no particular sunburst of revelation after the fever dream, just a realization that he’s still hungry and still alive and that Cat will sit and wait until January’s ready to eat with him.

(Ah, the bowl of stars that he drinks from. That image/phrase is a direct rip from a very famous horror novel, and if anyone can name it, one free cat cuddle to you! [Must supply your own cat.])

I could pick at more details, but you get the gist here. A last note on illness/disability: I didn’t really get into the horror genre until I was unwell, and then I used horror movies both to escape from pain and to realize the pain, to watch someone else suffer and nod from my seat and say, That’s it! That’s it, that’s what’s inside me. You all can see it too, now. Apocalyptic settings are a bit different, but related—it’s not so much about the pain and fear made manifest as the loss. Becoming disabled is very much a private apocalypse. Swaths of society are lost to you. You cannot go there; you cannot participate in the thing; you cannot create what you used to. Please don’t take this as an invitation to debate inclusivity measures—just believe me for a second when I say some doors are closed, and there is nothing you can do but accept it and find a new door to open.

January doesn’t spend very much time lamenting what’s been lost, not in tangible terms like missing pizza or electricity. In fact, he regularly refuses to engage with the remaining shreds of civilization. He’s not comfortable staying inside the apartment of the woman with the painted nails, nor entering the cottage in the garden, and though he makes some allusions to camping in houses from time to time, this is never shown on screen. He only tells us about sleeping outside in his tent. So, we might say that he copes with the apocalyptic loss of society by rejecting any desire to reconstruct it. Instead he forms his own routines, as many disabled people do.

A favorite scene for many reviewers was a short one in which January gives new names to the flowers he doesn’t recognize. Loss perfuses this scene, but so does freedom—the realization that you can shed what was lost and reconfigure what still exists. The flower scene presents a tidy bow, I think, on top of the messy package that is illness, grief, trauma, and autobiographical reality rewritten.

Thanks

Finally, some thanks. Thanks to Sjoerd for teaching me how to use TweeGo, huge huge thanks to Eli (@addictivities) for working with me on producing the art for the game, thanks to @agnesmontague for getting me started thinking about this postmortem, thanks to all who read January, and thanks to those who attempted to read it and said “absolutely fucking not” for their own well-being.

I’m still completely gobsmacked about placing in the top ten, and I really appreciate all the feedback that folks have given me, both publicly and privately. Take care of yourselves, everybody, and if you ever want to talk through stuff, feel free to reach out. <3

#game: january #twine game #interactive fiction #game development #ifcomp

[placeinthisworld]

I’m that anon and this might sound over the top but I genuinely feel so so so heard right now because for the longest time when I followed them their takes and the way Taylor just fully consumes their life made me feel drained. I remember always side eyeing how they would conveniently side step criticising Taylor whenever she would genuinely mess up like saying oh they’re not a part of that group so they don’t want to take up space but it’s like okay I get it, hell I can even respect that but why aren’t you reblogging posts criticising Taylor made by the people she has directly hurt from her actions then. the way that fans go into dissecting very minute details over there sometimes made me think of how inevitable it is for Taylor to not grow and change cuz these are the blogs that always filled up Taylor’s feed and realistically fans like this is what she’s exposed to and on a human level I can’t imagine being treated as if every minor action of mine is worth extensive praise. The mental development of a celebrity impacted by being placed on such high pedestals has always intrigued me. I won’t lie there was a time, whenever I came home from school I would sit and obsessively consume only Taylor content and would be very defensive over her in real life as well but ( and I’m not trying to be super judgemental here) I can’t imagine being that committed to protecting, coddling, praising and borderline worshipping somebody like that when I know that individual never even considers my existence for like a second, I genuinely can’t imagine doing this for years and years and never growing past it especially with everything Taylor has done.

I still remember how condescending and truthfully mean they were being to anons when some fans questioned why Taylor swapped out invisible string for the 1 and they defended joe so so so much as if they were his lawyer or something but as soon as they broke up the absolute switch up kind of floored me cuz I always thought that they genuinely started liking joe for his work at one point cuz of how much they would place him on a pedestal as well before but damn I got whiplash from soo many blogs after the breakup. I know this turned into a giant rant and I’m so sorry but it’s just I’ve never come across anybody that felt the same way cuz generally literally everybody praises that blog and treats it like royalty sometimes so it’s like getting to vent to somebody for the first time 😅😅😔😔

100000000% bestie i agree with everything you’ve said 😭

i followed them too for the longest time and always kinda followed that same mindset too. but something changed when eras started that made me just kinda….feel like there was a tswift overexposure/ blowup where it suddenly felt like people were only online again to gain clout, and then the breakup happened and everyone and their mom was suddenly a diehard swiftie with all these opinions about it and it started to make me feel icked out by the way people just…..casually discussed and debated/speculated about her personal life and their entire relationship without knowing really anything more. when the breakup happened i definitely saw the switch from just another swiftie to literally suffocating up taylor’s asshole. i mostly blame tumblr too for giving them that attention lol i think that definitely fed into their dialogue. i remember being kinda sad when i unfollowed but knew it was better for me bc their interactions with anons and their opinions were so wild lol. i also remember starting to feel like i was a bad fan/ swiftie if i couldn’t defend taylor like that in good conscience so i figured disengaging would be enough, but then meathead came into play and suddenly their narrative became clear that they were really just ready to support and defend taylor about absolutely everything (and then somewhere along the way they blocked meeeee and ngl i wa so caught off guard bc i had unfollowed so long before that i couldn’t even tell you when it happened or like what i said to cause if LMAO i’m sure it was one of my criticism posts about taylor but like still find it funny!) because at the end of the day we’re all just fans seeing what taylor wants us to see and nobody really has any insight as to what taylor is thinking or how she feels, yes even if you spent a few hours with her once 5+ years ago……

overall is been a very eye opening experience as to how parasocial relationships develop and how weird people are on social media…..i always said (jokingly) that swiftism was a disease but like i actually feel like it is

#answered #anon #anonymous #anon i’m so glad u feel heard bc i also feel heard i thought i was just a bad swiftie