#*eats organic to feel better and repressed all his emotions*

[thebackestofburners]

Sam in early S8 is wild, he's like "but could a depressed person do this" and then almost dies

[star-ocean-peahen]

Christmas is a time for famil.............ial dysfunction!!

hahahahaha im the only person in this house who doesn't explode when upset hahahahahaha isnt it funny how that sounds like im a better person but i really just lash out quietly and sarcastically instead hahahahahaha and thats definitely worse because it's more insidious and hurts people when they have less of a chance to understand it hahahahahahaha

hahaha dad snapped at me for trying to protect my sibling from his forceful anxious rants and like yeah thats not the best way to go about the situation i see that now. its not going to work to tell him he's said enough because 1) he does not want to hear that 2) he does not want to hear that from me 3) hed never stop anyway because hes not ACTUALLY saying it for other people's benefit he's saying it because he doesn't believe emotional validation is a legitimate emotional need so he doesn't allow himself to have it so his anxieties have to come out somehow and this is how they do that and i cant really get down on him for that because i did it too!! when you dont have another outlet the anxieties will still come out but just in a non-constructive way!! of course whenever MINE did that he mocked me and made sure i knew EXACTLY how disgusting and cruel he thought i was being but BECAUSE of that i know how it feels and i dont want to do it to him!! the point is that i dont want anyone else to feel like i did and that includes the person who made me feel that way!! because he doesn't really deserve the grace and respect he never gave me but im going to try to give it to him anyway!! because thats the point of breaking the cycle!! but hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh my drive to protect my younger sibling is stronger in the moment than my drive to break the cycle and i dont know what to DO to do it the right way and i dont have to get it right esp when it isnt my job.................i just hate to see him saying things that hurt me so much to them...........

and its so fuckign. hard to remember that small humans have no better way of dealing with their emotions so they express them in non-constructive ways. because theyre being little rats.

and my mom is like the only one actually trying to make this celebration fun for everyone and she cant handle the emotional weight of everyone's problems on top of organizing the entire holiday for everyone. she can't do it. i watched her break down in the kitchen. shes doing better now but its not fair!! its not fair that this is happening to her!! its not fair that this is happening to us all!! its not fair that i had to be strong for her when i was repressing all of these feelings!! its not fucking fair that i love them so much!!

and im part of the problem!! i know that!! i make situations worse because im upset!! i tell my dad off for not deescalating when i suck at deescalating too!! im catty and petty and im definitely traumatizing my siblings in the way i was and thats eating me up inside!! i dont know how to do this better and i cant be expected to do this better but FUCK i hate it!!

i just. i wish my siblings could calm themselves down i wish my dad could successfully deescalate situations and not get into stupid arguments that he has to win to make up for his lack of consistent validation i wish my mom could stop yelling at my siblings i wish she could have enough support that she doesnt have to feel anxious i wish my family was NOT SO FUCKING DYSFUNCTIONAL.

its silly goofy but my anthem for when my dad makes me feel bad is the living tombstone song "i can't fix you" because it makes me feel better but its not just that i cant fix them i cant even HELP them. or even if i can i hurt more than i help. wanting to help doesnt translate to succeeding. fuck. i just. i just dont want anyone to feel like i did. but i make them feel that way more than i save them from it. fuck. do i have a thing about saving people. do i care more about feeling like i saved someone than actually being what they need. i dont fucking know.

[pjinthestreets]

artemiy burakh/child abuse discussion kind of?/longer post re dad artemiy emotions

while i do appreciate a ‘soft ending for the guy whos been through it all’ and i obviously share the instinct to imagine/create that (shuffles 45k of trying to get him to eat a big family dinner with the kids which has spiraled wildly out of control) i feel like i havent seen ANY content where artemiy isnt a gentle papa bear lol. which again isnt to say all of yous are Wrong for your Nice Dad Artemiy content but like. he kills people. he kills kids. theres a multitude of artemiys out there walking the haruspex path differently but you just cant make the argument that theres not room in him for full-on child-murder. and yeah its a video game and harvesting 100+ human organs in 12 days is just not even possible but like. especially classic-flavor artemiy (and i think some versions of p2) has a pretty low threshold for violence and having taken human lives is gonna impact how he is at home yk. plus like, even if you play him as tender as possible in p2 he didn’t come home to start a family..

idk what you guys’ experiences are with unanticipated troubled-youth mentorship but its not gonna be easy or intuitive to jump in as a father figure for two. lets say Troubled kids whove raised themselves halfway. and artemiy absolutely has anger issues, grief, and baggage of his own thats not even touching the ‘ive cracked ribcages to cut out warm hearts and i know what punctured intestines smell like’ aspect lol. one way or another i find it rly hard to imagine him as father of the year and i actually find that rly compelling. even the most well-meaning and stable adults whove actively planned their futures around parenthood fuck up badly because in this bitch of a world no one is without fractures and kids are gonna be impacted by that. i think healing is the work of a lifetime and loving-protecting-nurturing a child can absolutely change everything about a person but i kinda find it unfair to artemiy (and sticky and murky)’s characters to tack on a ‘and then it was all fridge drawings and baseball games and sometimes artemiy had nightmares but he’d go kiss his sleeping kids’ heads and feel better’ as the ending.

i wanna say part of that is the extreme taboo around depicting.. anything at all Problematique, ever, lest ye Endorse, and especially an extreme aversion to portraying someone who harms/abuses a child as anything but a vile monster (or occasionally a repressed alcoholic with PTSD, nonetheless a monster but at least a sad pathetic one?). ive been thinking a lot lately about Redemption Narratives and what we expect from them, who’s eligible for them, and what a Redeemed Character looks like. artemiy is a character id like to see heal and grow as much as the next guy and i can see why ‘artemiy harms a a child or literally anyone and its not done thru gritted teeth for the greater good’ is not a thing this fandom in particular is ready for. i can count the number of even ‘artemiy gets violent with an adult who in some way triggers him’ art/fic ive seen.  but for real, many to most of us have some pretty fucked up shit in our family histories, and most of us will do fucked up shit in our lifetimes. genuinely fucked up shit that changes the trajectory of other peoples’ lives! sometimes those people are children at the time too! how can we hold that harm without denying it, without forgiving it or erasing it?

all that is to say, i dont begrudge the wealth of happy-family endings that artemiy and kids get to have. i AM bummed about the dearth of more complex post-game content, because its something that i think bears thinking about.

[hellonoblesky]

Happy Saturday it’s past 2am here’s Harbinger Angst. Because I’m up late and I’m havinggg thoughts.

So here’s my hcs about the Harbingers reacting to/dealing with the news of Signora‘s death :)

(CW For like. Mental breakdowns and guilt and general emotional instability because no one is having a good time here. Oh also cussing, anddd some familial angst in Childe’s bit? Also I am so sorry about any misspellings n whatever it is. Very late and I already have two other posts in my drafts collecting dust that are also HCs so.)

Dottore:

So if you don’t follow my art blog or haven’t seen my Harbinger hcs (which are under the process of some change with new info being released and whatnot), you don’t know this but I HC Dot and Signora to be like sorta just evil siblings

Now because death is such a commodity in Dot’s uh… specific line of work, he doesn’t register that Signora is dead until like two days after he hears the news

He picked up the phone (rotary perhaps?) to go call up Signora‘a office to see if she has any good gossip and then stopped halfway through dialing because it hit him that she’s never going to be there to pick up the phone on the other end. Ever.

He usually listens to music when he’s working but with the absence of Signora ranting he has to take up listening to the radio on top of the music

Problem is: the radio doesn’t have the same charm and cadence to it that Signora’s rants did, because normal people are boring and it’s going to drive Dot up the walls if he has to listen to one more commercial or one more anxious ramble about how cool and great the Fatui are from some stupid radio host trying not to overstep the Tasritsa’s favor like she listens to some boring ass radio station in her spare time!!!

HE HATES IT. But is forced to make do because if he shows weakness he will be torn apart (or so he thinks)

So this leads to him locking himself away in his office even more than he already did

Because he was already intrigued by the traveller after their actions in Mond and their victory against Childe, but them beating Signora in a duel before the Shogun? Oh now that kickstarted a whole new line of study

Especially because his only coping mechanisms are Be Destructive and Dive So Far Into Work You Don’t Think so within about three days he has a comprehensive analysis of everything he can possibly get his hands on regarding the Traveler (without interacting with other people) and is about to pass out because he hasn’t slept

Oh and the funeral was absolute hell for him.

Mainly because while he was barely conscious he agreed to play violin at the service and then promptly passed out and forgot about it so he woke up and was hit with the consequences of his own actions in the form of sheet notes

He endured, obviously, he’s not going to back down from playing something at the funeral of one of the few interesting people in the organization, that’s what tools and cowards do and this might be the Fatui but if he’d survived the wrath of dead gods he would make it through this

Went right back to locking himself away after that though

He actually got bad enough that the other Harbingers took notice of his state and MADE him come out of his labs and eat (mainly at demand of the Tsaritsa because she just lost the Crimson Witch as an asset, she wants the rest of her Harbingers in good health god dammit, the Traveler is becoming a genuine threat)

Broke down at dinner a week after the funeral

Swears that if any of the other Harbingers bring it up ever ever again he will kill their bodies and keep their consciousnesses trapped in a machine that he controls forevermore

Really he’s just glad that no one immediately pounced on one of his few shows of weakness

Maybe he’ll risk it again if it means he can cry it out for another hour but he wouldn’t dare say that out loud, won’t even finish the thought

But you know what he will do?

What he does best, of course

Look at an oddity in the world (in this case the traveller) and seek to pick it apart until he can put it back together without looking and still have it work

The only way he can actually get through his grieving is by finding something to take the edge off

And it just so happens that the traveller is a perfect candidate

Childe:

By no means has he ever liked Signora, in regards to personality or method, but her death still hit him

He had to travel back to Snezhnaya for the funeral, and it did absolutely cheer him up to see his family again and get to spoil them all silly, but with a mind whirling with thoughts it was genuinely hard for him to keep a smile up

Mainly thoughts about battle, because that’s really the only way he can interpret the world at this point

Like he keeps thinking about weather the Traveler was holding back with him, or if they had gained the strength to fight off yet another Fatui plot just in the month or so since Liyue? And if they had gained strength, how had they done it so fast? If they’d been holding back against him had he not shown himself to be a fighter worthy of their strength? Had Signora even faced the Traveler‘s full strength?

Overall his head is much too full of too many things, and it wears him out to the point that he ends up sleeping in late enough for his family to actually worry because usually he’s up before dawn training and they don’t see him until the afternoon

But he’s back on track as soon as he can, because the training helps him think, and once he can resolve most of his thoughts (or repress them so they don’t bother him too often) he’s absolutely alright and fine and ready to go! Totally. Fine. It’s fine.

The thoughts were very much There during the funeral, especially as the first harbinger read a (somewhat summarized version) of Signora’s life to the assembly of Fatui

(Oh and Pierro didn’t really care weather or not Signor wanted people to know her life after she died because she was dead now what was she going to do??)

The reveal that Signora had been fighting for the Fatui because her lover had been killed by the actions of the Anemo Archon, and she desired nothing more than to see him again… it got to Childe. It got to Childe more than he’d like to admit

Because suddenly the woman who he had always known as the embodiment of frostbite and frozen barbed wire fencing had someone she had cared about, genuinely cared about, to the point where she had become the Mondstadt legend, the Crimson Witch herself

And she had lost that lover to the actions of a fool of a God

He swore silently to himself that when the Tsaritsa‘s future came to pass he would make a little monument for Signora. Nothing big, probably a plaque on a nice stone where Mondstadt would have been before the Tsaritsa’s success, but a monument nonetheless

This promise was a spur of the moment thing, and later he would be like “Man she was a jerk, lost love or not why did I promise her that?“ but he doesn’t go back on promises

Besides, actually watching Dottore break down in a grief and sleep-depravation induced haze was also something that got to him because of course the two people he happened to simply Hate The Most in the organization were close that makes perfect sense but also wow it is weird to see Dottore cry and it feels Wrong because after murdering and tormenting so many people… Signora is gone and he breaks then??? What the fuck

Avoids most of the Harbingers after that, just heads home to Morepesok to spoil his siblings silly before going back to Liyue

Oh and his siblings can tell something is up, Teucer especially because when his brilliant big brother, the greatest toy salesman in all of Snezhnaya, is suddenly struggling to keep a smile even though they’re at home… he notices

Childe’s other siblings are all avoiding the subject, they heard about the death of Signora and all, they just assume the organization is going through it tight now and frankly most of them are a little afraid of him weather they‘ll admit it or not

Not Teucer though, he’s confused just because he still has grasped how Snezhnaya works yet, so he goes ahead and asks anyway

Childe just says he’s sad because he has to leave again so soon! And he hasn’t even been able to take Teucer fishing this time, isn’t that sad?

Teucer can tell that he’s lying

But Teucer is also beginning to sense the danger that lies behind Childe’s eyes, so for the first time? He doesn’t push it or say that they could go fishing now if they hurry

Just a grin and a “Next time!! Promise?” Makes it all better and he doesn’t have to think about why his big brother feels unnerving to look at sometimes

Childe is oblivious to Teucer’s growing awareness

He heads back to Liyue and makes himself focus on work

Scaramouch:

Now he didn’t particularly like Signora either, and didn’t really care about her life’s story, because blah blah blah we get it lady you lost someone, we all did, cry about it or whatever

But he does feel… he feels guilty for leaving her to face the Shogun

He had the Gnosis, he had finished Signora’s mission for her without even meaning to, and he had thought it would be funny to just let her face the Shogun without knowing that

To some extent, it’s his fault she’s dead

And it’s not the fact that she died because he didn’t go get her that weighs on him, it’s that he left her to the Shogun of all things

I don’t know if puppets like Scara can feel things like people and such do, but considering how the Shogun expressed frustration and stress when Ei disabled the majority of her functions, I’m going to assume they can

And because of the meddling of ‘some eccentric scientists’ his emotions are probably toned down a tad but he can still feel guilt all the same

And leaving Signora to the Shogun makes him feel guilty because he and the Shogun are essentially kin

Disowned and disavowed kin, but you know

He may have been able to easily counter the Shogun, or even help Signora prevail in her duel, but he. Ran. Off.

He happens to think that that was very cowardly of him

It causes a spike in his aggression which everyone unfortunately has to notice every time he walks by because the sheer static electricity that snaps in the air when he’s in the room now? Haha. Ouchie

Fun fact: he has no idea how to cope with guilt

He channels ALL of it into SHEER RAGE

Ever seen a couple hundred year old man go absolutely apeshit in the Harbinger‘s shared training arena? Well now you have!! It’s not a pretty sight!!

He’s crying and can’t tell why, which fuels his anger, which fuels stress as a fun side effect which just makes more tears and now he has to snap someone in half because he needs it to stop he hates it here he hates it here he hates it here

And in the beginning the guilt wasn’t even that severe for him, it was just so immensely magnified by his lack of coping skills that he very nearly broke himself down

He tried going to Dottore to get it disabled but Dottore had his doors all locked so Scara couldn’t even get a word through to him

Oh and the funeral was fine with him he just left early because he didn’t want to deal with looking people in the eye at the time because, again, his lack of coping skills with guilt magnified the whole feeling so it was almost unbearable

It’s a lot of fighting and breaking things before he’s able to resign himself to some semblance of how he was

[janekfan]

for the bingo board, would you mind doing health scare with jon and the crew? i love your writing btw

Thank you so much!!! 

Uh, I filled this probably unconventionally? But I hope it’s okay!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28514178

Jon first noticed something was off when he woke up shivering in the dead of night. But temperatures had been dropping steadily, there was no reason to think that it was anything other than the thin, poorly insulated walls of his flat causing the problem. Exhausted, Jon knuckled enough sleep from his eyes to retrieve another blanket, deciding before he slipped away again to wear a warmer cardigan tomorrow because the archives had a tendency to be chilly.

When Jon limped his way into the office the next day his joints were already burning and loose, feeling all too much like they’d been crushed into powder. He knew better than to walk that extra stop from the train but he was so embittered about his new, illustrious position as Head Archivist that being crammed like a sardine with hundreds of other people all but reading his mind, knowing instinctively that he wasn’t cut out for the work, was unbearable and he’d needed an escape. It wasn’t that bad; he was just tired from trying to fix Gertrude’s mess, that’s all. He just needed to redirect his attention away from the needles stabbing into him every time he took a step and focus on the mountain of files he had yet to sort through.

There didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to how they were organized, but he had been able to use the dates scrawled across the tops of the stiff yellowing papers to get some semblance of a timeline going. That was where Jon found himself when Martin dropped off a cuppa, thanking him absentmindedly as he compared what was either a nine or a seven to another, clearer script.

“Um. Jon?”

“Hm?” It couldn’t matter that much and Jon filed them away in deference to the tea. Jon hadn’t realized how thirsty he was...what time was it?

“I. It’s half three.” Oh. “And I. I just haven’t seen you eat? Anything?”

“Oh.”

“You’re so busy, of course! It’s natural to get, uh, caught up! I could fix you something, if you’d like?”

“I’m.” Not hungry, that was for certain. Either the pain or the exhaustion was upsetting his stomach and the idea of eating right now was--

“Jon?” Maybe he’d eaten something gone off? Past the expiry?

“Oh. Um. Actually.”

“It’s no trouble!”

“Some. Some toast would be lovely, Martin, thank you.” A bite or two would help and as strange as it felt to take Martin up on his offer, the slightest bit of tension bled out of his shoulders.

Things had been.

Tense.

Since he’d accepted the position.

It was clear, no, true, that Sasha was better deserving of the job. She had more experience, more knowledge, more everything and yet Elias had passed her right over, giving Jon the ridiculous choice to resign or take it.

He should have resigned.

Finding a new workplace would be easier than watching his friends pull away from him. He didn’t blame Tim for siding with Sasha. She needed support right now. And anything he could think of to say to her would make him sound ungrateful that he’d been selected over her. Couldn’t very well go up to her and admit that he hated this and wanted everything to go back to the way it was in Research, because she really did want it.

And he.

“Toast’s up.” Martin sidestepped into the room to place the small plate on the corner of the desk. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like with it so I got a few things!” Cheerful and bright, he placed the jams down with a small spoon. He couldn’t have known it was exactly the right thing to do, that dry toast was about all Jon was going to be able to manage. “Anything I can help with?” Tentative, it was no secret that Jon was prickly at the best of times.

“Ah, um.” Jon gestured to a box, repressed a flinch when it seemed like his shoulder would jump from its socket. “I’ve been organizing by the dates on the top? Just, just for something.”

“Got it.”

Jon made his way slowly through one slice, later agreeing with Martin that he’d gotten too caught up with work to think about the second.

Things didn’t improve.

Maybe it was this.

Maybe it was that.

Excuse after excuse, because anything would be better than what he knew in his heart this really was and finally late one evening Jon clutched the bed spread despite the fire flaring in his fingers and buried his face into the soft fabric. It was foolish; it wouldn’t change anything to be so upset and he should be better equipped to handle it considering these spells would continue happening. He breathed in, out, slow, measured, but instead of calming him, he burst into sobs, muffling himself in the sheets and crying despite the pain and as he lay there, coming down from his tears of frustration, Jon realized, accepted, what was happening. The reason for his fever, headaches, the increase in pain, the trouble eating, sleeping--

“You are fine.” He whispered repeatedly into the cold isolated dark of his bedroom. “It won’t last forever. It never does.” But it always felt like forever and he couldn’t help but wonder how long it would be this time. What mistake did he make to cause it, even though Jon knew deep down it didn’t matter. That these things came and went with the wind and no matter what habits he changed to try and mitigate it, it never mattered. It was as if he was only able to talk himself down in time for it to flare up again and the constant fight to convince himself he would be alright, that he would make it through again and again and again was exhausting because it meant he was done in before the day even began.

Jon’s body ached like one giant bruise, crushed, pulled apart, at once boneless and so heavy that moving out of bed was out of the question. Brain stuffed with cotton wool and foggy thoughts meant that to speak meant to hurt so he didn’t, knowing he came across as spiteful but he didn’t have the energy to explain, not when he was so focused on making it from train to Institute to door to stairs to office; each leg of such a routine journey worse than the last. Sitting up was an ordeal and Jon had to drag his stick and string self out of bed after each restless night with caution, lest he pull something loose out of place. Braces, tape, hidden, hiding, normal, normal, normal. How he could be so tired and still not be able to sleep at night was a torture he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy.

Greetings, pleasantries, small talk all standing in the way of Jon reaching his desk and taking a break from what was essentially waking up. But it hurt. It all hurt. And it made it all worse because they were already angry with him and they wouldn’t stop being angry at him unless he put work into mending their relationships and he couldn’t put work into it when he wanted nothing more than to lay down and be unconscious for however long it took until this all passed.

The worst part of it all was that he needed help and didn’t know how to ask for it. Not with the cold shoulders, the whispers, the looks. And he only had himself to blame. The desk phone caught his attention and Jon was surprised it wasn’t shrouded in a layer of dust, still weighing his choices. Call someone, probably Martin. Or drag himself out of his office. One would only wound his pride. Gingerly, Jon cradled the phone to his ear, licking chapped lips before dialing Martin’s extension.

“Oh, J’Jon?” He’d never called any of them before. “Uh, what can I do for you?” Thank god. Trust Martin’s helpful nature to override any other questions.

“Ah, Martin. Yes, thank you. If you could--” There was a scuffle, a yelp, muffled through his door, followed by the dramatic clearing of a throat and:

“You can’t hide in there all week, Jon!” Came Tim’s sing-song reply and the hang up was two fold; through the receiver and the clang of the thing on Martin’s desk. Jon took a deep breath, pushing back the emotions threatening to flood him, tipping his head back and begging the tears to stop.

Having to ask for help was almost impossible and the longer he waited to show his face, the worse it would be.

The only thing he’d accomplished by picking up the phone was to put himself on a time limit.

This was too overwhelming.

Their desks are meters away but it may as well have been kilometers with how much he was hurting. But Jon pushed himself to his unsteady feet anyway, wishing both that someone would just notice and that he was masking his symptoms enough that they wouldn’t. He wasn’t foolish enough to leave his cane behind. It took concentration to keep his expression neutral, to force himself to walk smoothly. To pretend it was a regular day.

“That’s a level ten scowl, boss.” Jon rolled his eyes. “Honestly, you’ve been so moody lately.” Tim looked up from where he was twiddling away on his phone. Taking a break, that’s all, nothing to be upset with even though he couldn’t help but compare the number of files stacked on their individual desks. Jon swallowed hard around the tangle of hot disappointment.

“I’ve b’been, uh. It’s well, it’s a lot.” He hadn’t heard Sasha come up behind him, tone droll and capricious and all too familiar these days.

“I thought you’d be happier considering your position.” When Jon laughed nervously, it was damp with suppressed emotion. “It’s like you didn’t even want it.” And good lord at this moment he’d never wanted it less. But how could he talk to her about how difficult this transition had been when he was the thief? So he didn’t defend himself, instead going along with their jokes at his expense, trying to explain what he’d tried to call for. It was difficult to breathe in their presence, it was difficult to stand. It was difficult to accept that his friends were actively making things harder.

How would they know?

Tell them.

They’ll think you’re lying.

You were fine the other day.

“I was hoping you’d help me collect some files.” Jon wrapped his pompous academic exterior around him like a shield and for a horrifying moment he thought Tim was going to tell him off.

“Why didn’t you say so, boss?” Sarcasm dripped like crude oil from each syllable. “You just tell me what you want and I’ll fetch it for you.”

“Ah, j’just uh.” Jon pointed to what he needed in the stacks and Tim grunted with the weight of it, chuckling without mirth.

“Letting being the Big Boss go to your head are you?” He wiped a hand dramatically over his forehead. “Too shiftless to collect your own work?”

Why was he being so cruel?

“Too busy, I think you mean.” Jon shot back, letting anger and frustration seep through the continuously forming cracks. It was that or sob.

“Yeah, well. If you need anything else, you know where to find us.”

Jon absolutely refused to cry in his office.

It was stupid of him to not ask for help.

But he’d needed help with so many things this week past. Small things. Moving things. Carrying things. Things a normal person could do without constantly relying on others and the idea of parading himself into their midst again made his eyes sting with tears and his knees and hips burn. They hurt so much even with the bulky braces and sticky tape hidden beneath his trousers literally holding his joints together he didn’t think he’d be able to make another trip back and forth.

Which is how Jon found himself staring dumbly at his dangling arm for full seconds after trying to lift a box.

He’d dislocated his shoulder if the audible and sharp pop! was any indication and when the hot flush of agony hit he yelped mostly in surprise before controlling his fall to the floor. Someone was digging around in his shoulder socket with a superheated spoon as he writhed on the ground and he took just a moment to feel sorry for himself. He’d just wanted to do this one thing by himself and not have to surrender the tiny scrap of independence he’d been clinging to with his fingernails. Cursing himself for being so stupid and cursing himself again when his mewling brought all three of his assistants to his door, Jon looked up, feeling not unlike a beetle trapped on its back and waiting to be pinned. Now he was surrounded, in pain, under the glass of their frightened stares and he couldn’t spare the breath to tell them that he was fine. Just needed a moment to, to fit the puzzle pieces back together while he was being torn apart at his fragile seams.

“Boss--” A cacophony of panicked voices rising higher and higher and--

“Don’t!” They were reaching towards him, stopping at his tight command. “Don’t. I need. I--a minute. It’s fine.” Sweat streaked into the greying hair at his temples.

“This isn’t fine.” Tim sounded angry, scared, and Jon didn’t have enough in him to explain. Not right now. “Jon, you need--”

“Don’t tell me what I need!!” Surprising even himself with the vehement strength behind his declaration Jon put real effort into slowing his rapid breath. If he couldn’t control that, he couldn’t control himself, he couldn’t control the situation. At some point he closed his eyes, willing himself to relax, listening to the sound of Tim’s angry footsteps, Sasha’s following, their muffled voices upset and far away. He sensed Martin kneel beside him.

“Got you a cold cloth. Would you…?”

“P’please…” carried on the gust of his next exhale, the hum of relief stuck in his throat when Martin smoothed it over his eyes and it dulled the constant headache.

“You feel warm.”

“S’normal.” Martin was a surprising well of calm, not pressing or pushing or probing.

“Can I help?”

“In a, need another minute.” Experimentally Jon wiggled his fingers to check for numbness before trying to extend his arm and ultimately asking Martin for help.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to, to make it worse.”

“Can’t. Not really. Just there.” Martin’s hands were soft and warm as he maneuvered his arm over his head, helping bend it at the elbow and Jon grunted at the sensation of it falling back into place with a cool wash of relief.

“Oh! Uh, better?”

“Much.”

“I’ll make you some tea.” As though it were the man’s answer to all ills.

Jon took his time sitting up and getting to his feet, grabbing his cane and making his way to the breakroom where he knew he’d find Tim and Sasha. They at least gave him time to get settled before Tim launched into his interrogation.

“What happened?” Jon squirmed uncomfortably under their scrutiny, eyes downcast and focused on the glare of the fluorescent lighting reflecting off the surface of the tea Martin made him and glinting off the untouched foil backing of the paracetamol blister pack. His arm was in a sling. A sling he happened to have in his desk. A sling he happened to have in his desk “because this just happened sometimes.” The pain had decreased significantly but it didn’t feel right and probably wouldn’t for a while.

“I tried to lift a box.”

“A box.” Jon could really, really do without the incredulity.

“You don’t understand.”

“Yeah, because you never talk about it!”

“Because it’s always the same!” Jon didn’t mean to shout, but they wouldn’t understand. They couldn’t. And no amount of explaining or talking about his symptoms or complaining when he was hurting because he was always hurting would make a difference. “People don’t want to hear about it, Tim. It’s. It’s depressing.” They don’t believe me. “It makes people feel bad and then they get awkward. It’s easier for all of us if we just. Pretend.”

“Jon--”

“You’ve known since Research.” Jon wrapped sore arms around a sore stomach. “You know what these episodes look like, if not what it is.” And you didn’t care enough to even ask. It goes unsaid. Blaming Tim for something so far beyond his control wasn’t fair and Jon refused to do it.

Noticing would have been nice.

Not being forced to haul himself out to their desks to ask for help would have been nice. He understood they were acting out a bit of revenge and he didn’t blame them considering he’d stolen the job out from under Sasha. But it had been a blow to his pride all the same. Every time. Like being kicked when he was down.

Tears sprang to his eyes.

“And I. I don’t need. I don’t need to be coddled. But.” It felt stupid to say he wasn’t always able to walk between their desks and his office. He should be able to do that. It should be easy and he hated that it wasn’t. “I n’need to be allowed to, to.”

Leave. Leave here and never come back because he’d never felt worse than he did right now trying to beg his assistants for permission to use the phone.

“Call us.” Martin provided. “On the bad days.” Jon nodded, hiding his trembling lips behind the mug of cooling tea.

“Jon.” Tim sounded stricken. “I, I never meant--I.” Jon knew that. Tim was kind, had helped him when they worked upstairs together. But being punished like a child for saying yes-- “Jon.” He looked up to see that Tim was sitting across from him, hand outstretched on the table between them. Reaching. “Jon. I’m so, so sorry. That was. I shouldn’t have taken it that far.”

“I never. I didn’t say anything. You didn’t know.” It was Jon’s fault for being stubborn. It was Jon’s fault for not explaining.

“That’s no excuse for acting like a prat.” Jon ducked his head, embarrassment heating his face.

“I just. I chose y’you because.”

I trust you.

When Sasha sat beside him and bundled him into a gentle hug, that’s when the tears came in a biblical flood.

“Oh, Jon. I’m so sorry.” She rested her chin atop his head and the relief outweighed the unprofessionalism as he let himself be held. “We’re going to be better, alright?”

“Al’alright.” Salt damp and trembling, Jon was too exhausted to worry about what they thought of his greatest secret.

Hours later Jon blinked awake, bleary and warm, on the couch, head in Sasha’s lap as she read through a case and wrapped up in one of Martin’s jumpers.

“Almost quittin’ time, boss.” Oh. “You okay to make it home?”

“Uh, y’yeah, yes.”

It was nice to be asked.

It was a bit like walking on eggshells, the first few days of them navigating Jon without smothering him but the support was a far cry from the isolation and loneliness he’d dealt with since this whole thing started.

And then finally it began to break; the pain that’d been ratcheted up to eleven finally started dying down to a more manageable five or six.

“Need anything while I’m up, Jon?” Sasha poked her head into his office on her way by, a familiar, easy smile on her face and one he’d missed dearly.

“Ah, no, I--oh. If it’s not too much trouble, Martin was working on a translation?”

“Sure thing.”

Simple as that.

[graceedcoup]

Please tell me you're very detailed headcanon about Asmo holding the family together and raising Satan, because I headcanon that too.

Hi! I appreciate this literally so much I'm gonna kiss you on the mouth. Have a beautiful day ♡

I'd like to start off talking about this by acknowledging the fact that this entire very long headcanon hinges entirely on the fact that I'm ignoring canon details that support the suggestion that Satan was born as a fully grown demon and not formed as an infant who had to grow through formative childhood developmental stages. I would rather believe the latter because I lov..E Ba-biEs *ahem*.. because its more fun to think about.

Before I start I would also like to say that this is part of a much bigger more complicated idea about the dynamic each brother has with eachother and their own personal childhoods and histories, which I've went into some detail about with Levi just recently. But that was all still when they were celestial beings.

Let's fast forward to right after the fall. The brothers are all war damaged, bloody, grieving, guilty, humiliated. Lucifer has just basically been strongarmed into permanently pledging his loyalty to someone he doesn't yet trust or like at all just to get a second chance for his sister who he will never see again and is still effectively dead to him, and to make sure his family has some security. Which I think may be the piece of fuel in the fire inside him that finally expels this fucking hairball of repressed emotion into a living breathing little... infant demon. That absolutely no one asked for. Cue Lucifer having the worst cast of postpartum you've ever seen and resenting the fuck out of this baby and everything it represents and every bit more stress its gonna pile onto him.

But never fear, thats why family is here! Except they're not. They've all got their own shit to deal with. Mammon is already taking care of the rest of his siblings 24/7. He can barley make time to eat or sleep. Levi is very badly hurt, having been a target in the actual battle because of his former status in the army of angels and having gone through a very dramatic change to his body even compared to the rest of his brothers, he can't move very much yet. Belphie is struggling very hard with his newfound vice, he can rarley keep his eyes open, and when he can, hes grieving, hard. He was extremely close to Lilith. Beel... is an entirely different person. Quiet is an understatement. Hes nearly motionless for days at a time in his misery and deeeep in survivors guilt.

And Asmo is also hurt. They all are but him, not quite as badly. Emotionally he's taken a big blow, he's confused, he feels hideous and disgusted by himself, his new body and these new... feelings. He looks for a distraction. Hes been looking for days but his big brother just coughed out a little brother and Asmodeus instantly has stars in his eyes. If any of them have any kind of maternal instinct, its this one. Love is, after all, his whole thing. That horrible little tantruming ball of pure demonic fury is his new baby brother and hes never been happier to step up to the plate. Lucifer is almost too eager to let Asmo hold him the first time and from that moment on those two are inseparable.

-> Taking a pause from this pseudo fic to point out the thing that got me thinking about all this in the first place was a conversation about halfway through season one where MC refuses to make a pact with Satan the first time because he's doing it to spite Lucifer. They ask the brothers what the fuck is going on with that and they all have a little sit-down where they talk about his birth. All the brothers present look kind of uncomfortable but share the story as clearly as they can. But Asmo looks like this and gives this line:

He looks downright excited and this is the only line we get about actually raising him we get. For some reason it stuck with me, idk why. Asmo just seems so proud to share about how they taught Satan to be a person. Back to how I think that went

-> Asmo quickly learns about his ability to charm other demons and just as soon as he learns how to control that he feels comfortable using a very mild form of it to calm this baby the fuck down. And it works! Thank his cold uncaring father it works. Satan smiles for the first time in his life and he sheds a few tears both in relief and at how unbearably cute he is when he's not screaming. As soon as this baby is manageable and his brothers aren't in nearly as much pain, they all start pitching in. Doing whatever it takes to calm him down, finding things to make him happy. They make the disturbing discovery that its mostly gore that makes him smile. And yanking other peoples hair. His first giggle comes with a tiny fistful of newly-black strands he won't let go of.

Even with his brothers contributing to his care, Asmo still has a major part in keeping him company. Lucifer pitches in the most after him but if his favorite caretaker isn't around hes fussy as all hell.

Asmo, being blessed with the emotional intelligence the rest of his family seems to lack, is responsible for calming the kid down and teaching him healthier ways to manage his anger and stress. He teaches him meditation and yoga and self care. Hes the only one of his brothers with both the interest and patience to teach him how to read, how to cook, how to mind his manners. His anger never disappears. Hes still more prone to outbursts than any of his siblings ever were. Hes still much more violent when he does snap. But he can control it better than he could the day before and he keeps improving. Week after week and year after year, Satan grows into somebody all his brothers are proud of.

And hes still bonded to Asmodeus the most. Despite their clashing personalities they manage to get along perfectly and spend quite a bit of time together.

Theyre paired off in Devilgram and even the main body of the story quite a bit. Asmos even is Satan's background picture during phonecalls. I'm not sure if I'm reading way too far into that wait I totally am or if the writers are even aware they're doing that but I think its sweet and ive been thinking about it for months. Thank you for the opportunity to organize it all into one place ♡

[lord-of-no-energy]

How They Cheer Themselves Up When They Feel Unmotivated [Avillon NPCs]

I hope you discover new methods here that help you when you feel down ^^

Rouin

He starts by identifying the source of the problem. Rouin has trouble identifying his emotions, so he takes some time to self-reflect

Sometimes, there’s no source and he’s just having a down day

Rouin has a lot of work, so he can’t really take a break. This isn’t because Lord doesn’t allow him, it’s because Rouin himself doesn’t want to leave his work in the hands of others

What he does ask for is extensions for deadlines, and for someone to be assigned to assist him in work

Once he gets more time, he makes schedules and checklists to utilize it the most. Rouin has an unhealthy schedule, so he puts in time for workouts and sleep.

Organizing his day before it starts is really satisfying for him and already motivates him

He isn’t as fit as the knights; he’s actually really underweight. Working out when underweight is unhealthy, so he eats more than he normally does.

He eats a lot of sweets because sugar contains more energy. Don’t get me wrong, he eats a balance of foods, but when it’s a down day, doughnuts and candy really help.

Working out is his favourite way to relieve stress. He hates sweating, but once he’s done, he’s refreshed and ready to get back to work

His emotional health is like a reflection of his physical health.

He knows that confiding in others is the best way to deal with down days, but he likes putting up a strong, reliable front, even when he’s alone.

But having someone special like Lord who casually motivates him with “Take care of yourself”s and “Do your best”s helps him more than he admits.

Cannae

Cannae’s mood can be seen by how many times she fails when upgrading equipment

She might be playful and purposely fail sometimes for gold, but when it isn’t on purpose, she starts beating herself up for not being good enough

I think that she gets self-conscious really easily, which affects her work, which causes her to beat herself up more, and it’s a full cycle

Her mood affects everyone who is a mile radius from her. Anyone can tell that she feels down, but when she’s confronted about it, she denies it.

She’ll never admit that she feels down so Lord will have to take initiative.

It has to be Lord, Rouin, or Lyn. If it’s someone else, Cannae will become really difficult to handle.

Lord has to give her easier equipment to upgrade and shower her with approval for her to feel a little better

Sometimes, Cannae needs to vent and scream to feel a bit better.

That little bit is what opens her eyes to why she feels down. It’s not because she isn’t good enough, it’s because she needs to self-improve

Setting goals for her improvement is what helps her the most

Of course, she doesn’t like the setting goal process and needs Lord to help

But when she achieves those goals, she feels like she can do anything in the world

Whenever Cannae falls, she might lay low for a moment, but then she jumps up higher than before

The most important thing is having someone who is willing to spend time on helping her feel better. Without them, she would never be able to get back up again.

Aries

Aries and Rouin are the most similar characters in the entire game

They want to look strong to themselves and others and repress their emotions, if they’re able to identify them at all. 

I don’t think that Aries even likes being happy. I don’t mean that in an edgy way or anything. 

You know how happiness makes your heart go faster and your body feel warm and full? Aries finds the feeling icky and disgusting. 

He also hates it because it clouds his mind and that makes him feel vulnerable.

But he definitely doesn’t like being unmotivated, it drives him crazy.

He’s a loner so once he is able to figure out that he isn’t feeling good, he’ll figure out a fix

He doesn’t like someone finding out that he’s feeling down, because he labels negative emotions as vulnerability

What he needs the most is someone to treat him like normal, not go out of their way to make him feel better. If he needs alone time, he’ll request it himself. 

He might even get a bit talkative with someone he’s relaxed around. It serves as great distraction and helps him take the first step to getting back on his feet. I’m looking at you, Lord.

Then he goes out of the way to make others happier. He does it subtly so no one can trace the acts of kindness back to him. Seeing others happy because of him is like medicine to his mental health.

If you find out that he’s discreetly helped you, don’t thank him or tell others. Don’t feel like you owe him or treat him with extra kindness. Just don’t acknowledge it at all. Please. He wants to be sure that he’s helping out of kindness, not for others’ approval.

Aurea

For Aurea, unmotivation isn’t not feeling like doing anything. Unmotivation for Aurea is not getting new ideas for designs.

That drives her nuts. Designing clothes and making others feel good in what they wear makes her happy, so it’s like her brain is hindering her from happiness.

When this happens, Aurea has to force herself to face the fact that she won’t get new ideas by continuously trying and failing.

Instead, she gets out old clothes she’s made and washes them by hand. She doesn’t like doing chores either, but seeing her old works up close reminds her of the time she was making them.

It also shows her how much she has improved from before. 

Normally, doing this ignites a spark in her brain and she’s back at work as if nothing happened.

But if it doesn’t, she looks at other designers’ works for inspiration. 

Her mind normally wanders off thinking of what the designer was inspired by when designing, and that normally points her to the right direction.

Aurea normally looks at works from designers who are better than her.

Sometimes, she invites designers she looks up to for tea and talks with them about whatever. It’s barely sometimes that they touch on the topic of designing clothes.

She’s open with her emotions, so she’s okay with asking them what they do when they feel unmotivated.

It never intimidates her, it’s more of a bonus dose of motivation. It sets new standards for her which she knows that she can reach.

Plus, those designers also started somewhere. If they got where they are now, then so can she. 

Lord

I think it’s pretty much canon that Lord prefers to shoulder stress than share it

They don’t want others to suffer because of the mistakes they made, so they prefer to remain silent and sort out the problem themselves

Even if it isn’t their fault, I think they’d still keep their emotions to themselves so others don’t have to carry the burden with them

Lord just wants everyone to be happy ok

But that vulnerability is exactly what connects the knights in the first place

It reminds them that Lord is just another human being. The only thing that makes them different is their determination to create a fair and happy world.

Not only that, it strengthens their bond with their fellow knights. They swore to protect Lord, and making sure that Lord is happy is just one of their duties. Whenever Lord seems down, the knights are active in communicating with each other to sort out a solution.

For Lord, the advice serves to show them how their knights view them. The advice a person gives is a reflection of their mindset.

Not only that, it also serves as a reflection of Lord. The advice a person gives differs depending on who they are giving it to.

This motivates them to go ask. Not straighforwardly; they ask questions in roundabout ways to get that advice

Like “What do you do when you’re having a bad day?” or “If I’m at a fork in the road, what advice would you give me?”

Yeah they’re terrible at hiding their emotions

It’s the advice they receive that really helps them get back up

All in all, Lord relies on the people around them if they aren’t at the best point in their life. It normally has more than one positive result.

This was just a recollection of extreme story lol

It isn’t wrong to feel depressed and unmotivated. Emotions are okay. What matters is how you deal with them. 

Tysm for reading! Take care of yourself.

[magiefish]

hhhhhhhhhh guess who drew all the batim characters in prep for the comic they’re making!

yeah so it took like 4 days to draw all these guys, and it was actually pretty fun figuring out colours and designs and stuff!

(also, update on the Reveries Twisted comic, I have a plan for the first chapter but i have like, 7 tests next week and I haven’t started drawing it yet so it’s definitely not going to be coming out anytime soon sdfgsdfsj but i am still working on it!)

anyway, i felt like writing little descriptions for every character, so feel free to read these below the ‘keep reading’ line if you feel like it! My ask box is also always open, so if u have any questions feel free to ask

Bertrum Piedmont-he/him, gay/ace

-Started working as a mechanic at about 15 and worked his way up from there -Everyone in the studio @ him: why are u british -His big ego often gets in the way of things, but at his core he's a good person (doing bad shit but ultimately having good intentions is common among these guys shdgfs) -Wlw & mlm solidarity w/ Lacie, who is his most trusted confidant and friend -Actually treats his employees well, even when they do basically nothing all day, so he does a lot of work himself most of the time Linda Stein-she/her, straight as a ruler -Parents immigrated from Spain -She's very catholic and very into 'traditional family values' and that sort of stuff -She is sweet, but her strict morals and black and white ethics often make her do unintentional harm -She is also pretty oblivious to most things Jack Fain-he/him & they/them, pan/ace, OCD -Mother immigrated from China to France, and then he moved to America, it's confusing -Can play the violin really well, but is terrible at composing his own pieces -Peak friend material -Short and round and soft with a love of a good espresso -Kind and quiet but ultimately ineffective and happy to watch from the sidelines Daniel 'Buddy' Lewek-he/him, aro/ace, autistic, jewish -He is curious and observant, but very very naive -He finds it hard to pick up on social cues, and tends to daydream a lot -Never really had a father figure, and unfortunately kind of half sees Joey as one (baaaad choice), but his mother is great -Loves drawing and tends to chew on pens (and most objects really) -Too young Susie Campbell-she/her, demi -Her parents were Russian and she picked up their accent, but taught herself how to cover it up. She is now excellent at voice acting. -Has a birthmark most theatres turned her away for. But luckily voice acting gave her another chance at performance, and the music department really does not care about it. -Her dad was a butcher, so she now knows a concerning amount about how to cut up and dissect meat. -She gets easily attached to things emotionally, and has a whole pile of random bits and bops she keeps on her person because she can't throw them away. -Naive, but smart enough to know how to read and deceive people if needed. Ms Abigail Lambert-she/her, lesbian -A very gifted artist, who is quite frustrated with the business aspect of animation. -Picked up quite a few things about engineering from Lacie. -Stern, but kind. Motherly, if she likes you and you squint hard enough. -Used to fighting for things. -Giving her food is a pretty good way to get her to like you. Being an artist, she forgets to eat at the correct times a lot, so a meals always appreciated. Norman Polk-he/him, gay, albino -Knows how to fix things, knows how to fight, knows how to hide -General cool uncle vibes -He watches people a lot, and gives off some creepy vibes, but he does genuinely care about people -Knows something is up and is determined to find out what (even if he dies trying) -Fought in WW1, then worked at a cinema for a bit. Emma Lamont-she/her, heteroflexible -Keep dancing even when everything goes wrong -Bit of a 'i'm better than these fools' mentality going on -But she's pretty chill, and willing to act when needed -Basically every woman in the studio knows her on the basis that she chills in the girls bathroom. -Hates Joey, but knows those who stir up a bit too much trouble usually 'resign' Sammy Lawrence-he/him, (vocal-romantic) bi/ace, ADD -His dad sucked, so he ran away. He's also the reason he's largely abandoned his faith, but he still holds hope that there is some kind of god out there. -He and Jack are basically brothers, they've known each other for a long time. -He can compose music in his head, but can play basically every instrument. -Tall and thin and sharp with a love of black coffee. -He's actually pretty chill and nice, but the conditions of the studio (workload, noises, dreams) have left him quick to snap and a stressed out mess. -He's pretty oblivious to his own feelings and spends basically all his time thinking about music, so he usually only realises that he has a crush on someone if he hears them singing (hence the vocal-romantic joke) Johnny Hart-he/him (she/her), gay (trans), heart condition -A nervous wreck who avoids everything and everyone -Trans but doesn't realise it, he thinks this level of discomfort has something to do with his heart condition or something like that. -Speaking of which, if he gets genuinely terrified or panicked he could have a heart attack. -Hence why he's a recluse who remains in the organ room and interacts w/ literally no one. -Except Dot and Buddy (who forgets he exists and who he also has a crush on). Wally Franks-he/him, pan -Friends with literally everyone who isn't one of the older folks (and thomas) -Honorary member of the music department because he can play a harmonica and vibes with everyone there. -Tries to put a positive spin on everything, often beyond the point of reason -A mischevous, mildly selfish prankster with a heart of gold -Gossip pals with Susie and Norman The Violinist-she/her, nobody knows -Has literally never expressed an emotion ever -Seems to know things are going to happen before they happen -Just generally pretty weird -She isn't friends with Dot, they're both just vaguely interested in what the others doing -She looks a lot like Allison, but the two have never spoken and nobody knows if they're sisters Thomas Connor-they/them, gynephilia -He is just. So tired. -An actual mechanical genius who gets his work used for the wrong purposes. -Is very of the 'when you're on a path stick to it' mentality -Cold and hard exterior that vertually no one except Allison has ever managed to get through. -He can and will beat you up. Henry Stein-he/him, gay, vitiligo -Nice and hardworking. -Doesn't have many emotions other than to draw. -He's in fucking narnia he's so deep in the closest. -Feels emotions, but buries them deep down and doesn't express them too clearly. -Has difficulty setting healthy boundaries with people and represses himself far too much. Joey Drew-he/him, homoromantic/pansexual, bipolar disorder, alcohol and cigarette addictions -Chaotic, feral, short little man who lies to everyone -Charismatic as hell, but also a terrible friend and person in general -He doesn't blink enough, does not know the meaning of personal space, and hasn't aged for about 4 years, which are all very bad signs. -Doesn't understand how to run a business but does so anyway. Doesn't understand how to interact with people but does so anyway. Doesn't understand how to create life but does so anyway- -He isn't pure evil, he just gets into very bad mindsets and makes poor decisions that lead him down the wrongest way to go. -Does some self evaluation and goes 'maybe this wasn't the right way chief :/' just a bit too late Audrey Dempsey-she/her, lesbian, Borderline Personality Disorder -Feral conspiracy theorist -May or may not be related to multiple studio members -Everyone's called her crazy for years and made her feel like a burden, and she is hellbent on proving everyone wrong -Quite socially awkward, and rather sarcastic with a dark sense of humour -Works for Archgate Allison Pendle-she/her & they/them, androphilic/ace -Is forever lost in a vintage clothing store -Most people say she seems nice, but everyone just kind of subconciously registers that there is something up with her -Knows a lot about the supernatural -The person closest to Joey, which doesn't necessarily mean they're friends -Nobody has ever seen the right side of her face Dot Acciaci-she/her, pan -Her parents are Italian, and she speaks a little herself, usually using it to encrypt her private notes -Mischevious & curious, but ultimately kind -She will find out your secrets, and is very good at reading people -Great storyteller -Struggles with loneliness a lot Dr Eleanor Hackenbush-she/her, aro/ace -Science knows no bounds -Doesn't care what your motivation is, as long as you give her some cash and some experiments -Filled with nothing but utter spite Ms Reina Rodriguez-they/them, demi -Tired of everything -Although she puts up a calm exterior, Rodriguez is very attached to the studio and views it as her 'new family', having a terrible relationship with her old one -Her family drama connects to the fact they're very catholic, but she nobody knows what this drama is other than Joey Tessa Arch-she/her, straight -An absolute bitch -Trusts her husband far too much -Not very smart, but compensates for this for being good looking and rich Shawn Flynn-he/him (intersex), pan -Jovial, but gets angry quickly -Willing to do 'wrong' things if it helps someone else out, kind of like Robin Hood or something -His mother taught him how to sew and he helped her make clothes when he was younger -Found it hard to get a job because he's Irish, so despite being tired of all the bullshit of JDS, he is reluctant to look elsewhere -Friends with Lacie and Grant because they appreciate his humour Lacie Benton-She/her, lesbian, trans -Tougher than the toughies -wlw & mlm solidarity w/ Bertrum, who she views as one of the only genuinely smart people in JDS and who she has worked for for basically all of her life -Feels like something is up, but doesn't notice much if it doesn't connect to her work -Has automatophobia -Friend with Shawn and Grant because she respects their dedication to their work Grant Cohen-He/him, bi, depression, jewish -Absolute madlad at maths -Acts like he doesn't care what you think, cares far too much about what you think -Everyone wants him to just get therapy already -Doesn't have many friends, but has a weird 'we're both horribly overworked' kinship with Sammy, so they usually just chill and smoke together -Friends with Shawn and Lacie because they're actually mentally stable and he needs some rocks Nathan Arch-He/him, straight -You should hate him -You should hate him a lot -Super rich and doesn't pay his workers enough -Silver tongued -Basically a spider. Creates webs of manipulation and lies, sees a lot, and knows plenty about waiting for his prey to come to him.

[faelapis]

so... i’ve seen a lot of fanart and meta talking about adora having this subversive arc learning to be selfish, and i can’t really agree. 

i get the desire for that, but that is... not what happens. she has a typical insecure hero arc, it just comes with a reward attached. catra nominally acts like adora shouldn’t have to do this, but nothing really comes of that.

adora a) does the selfless hero thing, and b) it’s the right thing to do, with no negative consequences. she survives, gets her cake and eats it too... and that’s a narrative reward for being selfless. she still has to do the hero thing, or everyone dies. it’s more a reminder that other people care about her than any internal arc about selfishness.

what it reminds me of more than anything is when moana’s grandma reminds her that she shouldn’t be under so much pressure. that, too, is not an arc about selfishness. it’s just a small reminder to the kiddos at home that they matter.

and that’s fine! it’s a good message. but it’s not an an elaborate theme. moana still  has to be the selfless hero, or, well, everyone dies, so she can’t choose differently - they would never dare show that. like adora, she doubts herself and can be self-sacrificing, but nothing comes of it. she’s rewarded for being selfless, because being a hero just leads to things... working out. it’s what both needed to be, while being vaguely reminded of their own feelings along the way.

it just feels like a theme because they say it several times, but it does nothing to challenge the typical hero narrative. adora never makes a choice to be selfish, nor is that portrayed as something she should do. adora doing the hero thing is... necessary and praised, in the end. she fixes everything, carrying catra like a prize. it’s sad that it makes her feel pressured, but just kinda sad. not sad enough to change the story. she-ra just activates in time so she can survive, yay for her - but that is, narratively speaking, still rewarding heroic self-sacrifice.

the only modern animation i can think of that actually show and organically build selfishness as a virtue (and selflessness as a double-edged sword with consequences both for yourself and others) is still steven universe, sorry. especially pearl and steven’s arcs. because they’re not just reminders that “you matter, too!” in such a shallow way.

their self-sacrificing actually tears on their psyche in toxic ways and has negative consequences. it is something that needs to end in order for things to get better for them and the world. their dismissal of their own emotions and romanticizing yourself as a hero are actual character flaws, developed over time in ways that leads them to some truly horrifying places when they have their own agency. that needs to be addressed in order for them to grow.

pearl spreads her toxic selflessness to others and only becomes her best self when she starts living for herself, and steven putting himself on such a high pedestal to “fix” everyone both literally and symbolically turn him into a monster. he had to leave - even when others wants him to stay - in order to work on himself, both freeing himself from the toxic purpose of being everyone’s savior and freeing others from depending on him.

that’s selfishness as a value. those are characters who, to me, not only struggle to care about themselves, but where that actually manifests in a character arc.

it’s a consistent theme in SU - not only affecting the ego, but forcing you to confront the terrifying question of who you are without selfless purpose, which may frighten you, because no authority exists to give you a destiny (hey parallel to literally every gem!). everyone from white diamond to jasper are “at their worst” when they think they’re being completely selfless. not because a meaningless life of selfishness is a perfect solution, but because you have to care about yourself. the community has to mutually look out for one another. we can’t put anyone on a pedestal of heroism - that’s what steven and white have in common. it’s scary to live without that selfless purpose, but it’s necessary. 

they basically have to face the absurd and live with it. adora never has to do any of that, she just gets a kitty gf reward for being a hero.

i’m not saying this because i think adora is a bad character or inherently lesser, but i think her arc just... isn’t about selfishness. i think it’s a story of an insecure hero - like moana - who it’s nice to remind that they matter, but that’s all it is. a nice little reminder, in the middle of a fairly conventional hero story. they get to have a happy ending because they’re selflessly heroic, and the proposed negative consequencs of that heroism never manifests. it’s fine.

it’s just not as subversive as i would personally like, but... i don’t think spop was designed to really be subversive or challenging. not everything is. i think it was designed to have its hero acknowledge her own feelings, sure, but it’s first and foremost a power fantasy space adventure with feels and lesbians. and that’s fine. that’s all it needs to be! i don’t say this as a criticism exactly, i say it because i don’t want us to have such a shallow conception of selfishness.

i’ll confess i’m generally not a fan of spop’s plot, but i do like the characters. i’m also amazed the most generic sci-fi bad guy in the history of generic sci-fi bad guys doing a very basic "u should conform" thing is seen by some as The Most Biting Critique of Homophobia Ever, as if "break free from the machiNE" wasn’t a literal apple commercial.

but i digress - i do like adora. i just don’t think the plot is about her “learning to be selfish.” wrong hordak is closer to that, but his existential crisis is more of a background gag, so that doesn’t count. it just leads to where it’s most convenient for it to lead; being over in ten seconds and resulting in being angry with those who hurt you, who only seem to exist for you to Stand Up to Them (tm). spop in general really likes enabling the power fantasy of being better and stronger than those who hurt you, without always earning it. but, again, i digress.

i think my issue is that spop is "deep" for people who think everything they relate to is deep. it’s a cookie-cutter story told in a typical way, it just has insecure lesbians in it. it’s... fine. it’s a marvel movie with feels, but you’re allowed to relate to that. it doesnt have a consistent philosophy or interrogate its own positions on themes like abuse or repression in novel ways, but it doesn’t need to. it just does the insecure hero vs antihero thing in an okay way. 

catra is your basic cassandra zuko AMEM (abused manipulated edgy minion) character who gets help because she’s sad and isn’t “as bad” as the main villain. that’s also fine. i don’t love the execution, i wish it didn’t result in suddenly declawing her personality and stripping her of all need for agency, but whatever. she’s also rewarded for being selfless, not selfish, btw.

i actually do like spop. it’s messy and the plot is thinner than the fandom would ever admit, but, well... it’s still fine. in fact, i think it’s IMPORTANT that lgbt+ people have more basic self-empowerment stories that aren’t as challenging or, frankly, as messed up as your utenas or stephen’s universities. kinda like how every minority story doesn’t need to be “deep”, sometimes you just need to turn crazy rich asians on and have fun with it.

i just want to embrace it for what it is, not what the fandom acts like it is. that’s all.

[vestigiallegs]

If their roles were swapped: how would Sam fare as a psionic and Ike as a lycomorph? How would their lives, personality and outlook change?

I actually answered this same hypothetical on my old oc blog years ago! However, my answer was pretty general, and with the development PT has had since then I have a better idea of what the specifics would be now, I think. Incoming longpost.

SAM AS A PSIONIC

SITUATION: Growing up in Rietveld would appeal to Sam for some of the same reasons it appealed to Isaac. Baby Sam ABSOLUTELY would have appreciated being stolen from her birth family, taken out of contact with her shitty father, and raised in an environment with some semblance of stability. However, with her general temperament and attitude I don't think she would ever have the same level of emotional attachment to Rietveld that Isaac does. In his most bootlicker moments, Rietveld IS his family, and a genuine savior to people like him.

Sam wouldn't share that take.

She would feel that the Rietveld Academy is more of a necessary evil. An organization with a good mission statement and a bunch of power hungry dirtbags looking to co-opt it into their personal army (a pretty on-the-nose assessment).

Adapting to her new life would be harder for her than it was on Ike, as she is generally allergic to rules and strict schedules and conformity. She would be a lot of trouble as a new recruit, hideously uncooperative and generally looking for problems. Of course, when you deal exclusively with kidnapped children, you see this kind of behavior a lot, so she wouldn’t actually be anything the Academy wasn't prepared to handle. Eventually she would tucker herself out enough to become somewhat system compliant (but she would always be looking for discreet acts of rebellion that she could get away with).

As she got older she would feel torn between wanting to put as much distance between her and Rietveld politics as possible, and feeling an obligation to every other psionic to try and effect change where possible. She would decide the latter was the morally right thing to do, and end up going down a very similar career path to Ike. In general, she would make a lot of his same choices, she'd just be more conscientious about it.

Assuming she was as psychically talented as Ike is, she'd have a similar time rising through ranks, garnering some level of recognition, reaching a sort of smalltime celeb status in certain corners of Rietveld. Eventually, though, her career would come to a ceiling. While this Sam would have learned to hold her tongue now and then, she is terminally pushy and nosy, and there would come a point where her superiors just... didn't want her any closer to sensitive information. Her career would lose steam in a much less dramatic way than Ike’s, and though she would remain respected people’s attention would drift as she settled into the life of a cog.

From here I can see two options.

1. She gets disillusioned and leaves for Verdamt of her own volition, growing even more disgruntled with Rietveld once she’s living outside of the system. She lives her best life but feels bitter that Rietveld stole years of her life from her.

2. She stays in her position for years, becoming one of those “cool middle aged mentor who is in a position of authority but not a jackass about it and looks the other way if you break a rule that hurts nobody” type characters who dies in a story’s inciting incident, either after discovering something they shouldn’t have and/or getting mercilessly betrayed by someone obviously evil who they fully trusted for some reason (fitting for her).

PERSONALITY: Sam as you know her, but with a much larger vocabulary. She has strategically polished her personality to come off as more intentional, charming, and rascal-y in order to balance her innate desire to mouth off and backtalk with her need to function in Rietveld’s existing hierarchy. Unflappably confident. Could function as a D&D party’s face without getting them all killed.

Cuts her hair short, very clean cut style, doesn’t smell sweaty. No tattoos. Still missing an eye.

ISAAC AS A LYCOMORPH

SITUATION: Ike's regular life is already stressful enough, and he is emotionally equipped to deal with psionic problems, he is not emotionally equipped to deal with lycomorph problems like Sam is.

First things first: he spent his entire childhood being raised ("raised”) by Seymour. Seymour is a career lycomorph hunter who has spent years tracking his runaway feral werewolf wife with the intent to kill her. He ABSOLUTELY expects his sons to follow in his footsteps, and when they are older, he makes sure they do. He raises his sons telling them they are obligated to help in the mom hunt and that every person they let her kill is second hand their fault. Terry grows up going “haha sure okay dad (turns to Ike and makes the cuckoo sign at him)”, but Isaac takes this to heart because he is just... really susceptible to guilt tactics.

You can probably already guess how Isaac would get infected and how Seymour would react to this.

Isaac knows his father is an awful, terrible man, even more than usual since he was actually raised (”raised”) by him. He KNOWS it. Even so, he finds himself completely caught off guard. He really for real thought “my dad would never murder me” was really a boundary Seymour wouldn’t cross. Of course, he also knows (”knows”) he shouldn’t feel hurt about this either, because executing the infected just makes sense, you know...

So this sad, wretched dogman is probably just going to let Seymour kill him, but luckily Terry is a voice of reason AS ALWAYS and kills Seymour before he can (something Terry has always wanted to do anyway).

Isaac copes very badly with being a lycomorph. While Sam adapts to her new normal relatively quickly, everything about being a lycomorph repulses Ike. He doesn’t like the transformations, they’re inconvenient and he finds them disproportionately painful. He doesn’t like being a naked wolfman once the change is over with. He hates eating carrion. He develops a psychosomatic weak stomach and struggles to eat enough for a lycomorph because he can’t emotionally bring himself to eat sub-human-grade food because THAT’S GROSS.

Luckily, good ol’ dependable Terry is looking out for him. No, really. Terry looks out for him. Not very well, because this is Terry we’re talking about, but he’s giving it his all and making sure Ike doesn’t die. (What makes you think Terry wouldn’t be there for his only brother?)

PERSONALITY: Absolutely VIBRATING with anxiety. Imagine one of those excruciatingly fearful, huge bite risk dogs. That’s him. Really hung up on and over dramatic about being a monster. Out of touch with what he likes and wants because he repressed like 3/4ths of his personality to get along with dad.

Looks like regular Ike got lost in the woods for a week. Doesn’t wax. Shakes like a chihuahua.

[famej]

Sunshine through the rain

Momotarou Mikoshiba x Reader

It surely was ridiculous, but those ridiculous things were getting to you more than they should. At this exact moment, instead of walking around a park with an obvious sad face and teary eyes, you should be enjoying an afternoon with a friend. But for the umpteenth time, they cancelled with the excuse of having to much to do before going back to school.

These days, it seemed recurrent for these kind of situations to happen. The cancelled meetings, your best friend pushing you away to spend time with her boyfriend that she never told you about before, that feeling of loneliness and abandonment was slowly starting to eat you up.

The weather had somehow matched your mood, with heavy bright grey clouds coating the sky, threatening to spill an equally heavy rain at any moment.

With all the running thoughts in your mind, the tears you’ve managed to keep in until now, trailed down your cheeks in perfect lines to your chin.

Then a crack of thunder, along with a wave of wind gave you a late warning, before rain literally poured down on you in a deafening noise.

Around you, the passers by scattered to shelter themselves under trees or simply  ran out of the park to go back home.

You should’ve done the same but you weren’t feeling like it, maybe due to your empty stomach, or simply emplty self, really.

Slowly your hair were drenched, clothes soaked and every inch of you was covered with water. Between the rain and the tears, there was no way to decipher one from the other. You were lost in all the negativity surrounding you and it didn’t matter if a full gallon of water fell on you or if you were gonana get sick afterwards.

« Hey ! What are you doing ? »

The voice, even if it was subdued by the raging rain, made you turn around. It wasn’t like you were even expecting anything from the person who shouted you out of your daze, but you certainly haven’t imagine stumbling upon this kind of sight.

A young man, wearing a bright yellow rain cape and holding an insect net. He was smiling, which contrasted the worried tone he’d called you out with.

« You shouldn’t stay under the rain »

His voice seemed so far and you were also too far away from reality to properly react. The only thing you could do was observe him. His red hair, golden bubbly eyes and his smile, slowly changing into a frown.

Your wrist was seized and you got pulled away from the main path, under a big tree, where the stranger stopped and finally took off his hood.

The raincape might not hide much but it was somehow different to see him without.

« Cute » you thought

« Are you okay ? » he asked you gently, putting a hand on your shoulder.

You took a dreep breath that you didn’t know you needed to take and managed to nod.

« Yes »

The guy seemed to relax at your answer, his smile returned to his face, in a brighter version this time.

« Good ! You scared me back there, I thought you were having a seizure »

As he talked to you, it was like the temporary wall you’d built around yourself to block the outside world, was starting to fall down, and so did the tears.

Adding to the previous ones and the crazy amount of water stainning your face, a new flow was starting to pour out, this one with the sobs you’d stuck in your thoat all this time.

« I’m sorry » you cried out, surprising your saviour.

Under the weight of all your built up emotions, you let yourself fall on the ground.

« It’s ridiculous, really, I’m just crying for stupid reasons »

He settled down next to you.

« Don’t worry, cry if you need to »

You desperately tried to calm down and after a few minutes, your breathing became normal again. You tried to wipe away your tears but realized that doing so with wet hands was useless and gave up.

« Are you feeling better ? »

Now that you regained all your senses , the shame of the previous events prevented you to look at him.

« Yes, thank you. I’m really sorry for bothering you I swear I’m not crazy »

He chuckled. You looked at him.

« Don’t worry, it’s okay to be sad. I was just worried ‘cause you looked like a zombie »

« So cute » you told yourself, analyzing his face.

« Can I ask you what your name is ? »

« I’m Momotarou Mikoshiba. I was hunting for stag beetles, cause one rare specy only goes out when it’s stormy but they hate water so I could only catch one before it started raining »

Right after finishing his sentence, he took his back pack off his shoulder and fished a bocal out of it. It was somehow organized with earth and a sort of branch on which a beetle was quietly resting.

« I didn’t name it yet. What ‘s your name ? »

« Y/N »

« That’s it » he exclaimed, smiling  widely at you, then turning to the bocal.

« Hi there, little Y/N » He tapped lightly on the glass. The way he looked at the little creature, with such passion that his eyes were almost shining.

You let out a laugh, a genuine one that wasn’t so much of a good fit with your mood.

« You’re really cute » you chuckled

Momotarou clearly tensed at your words and didn’t even looked at you. Instead, you could witness his face going from a slight pink to a deep scarlet, even reaching he’s ears and a patch of his neck.

Repressing another laugh, you completely turned to him.

« It wasn’t my intention to embarrass you, sorry. I’ve never had an animal named after me, also you seem to really like those things. »

With still colored cheeks, he slowly turned to you, his gaze adverting from you.

« Yeah, they’re fascinating. Did you know most Stag Beetles live for only a few weeks after emerging as an adult, only a few can survibe if they find a nice environment to live. That’s why I prepare some nice places for the ones I catch. »

Now, you two were just like friends having a basic conversation and not some awkward encounter under the rain.

He was still ranting about beetles, letting his embarrassment go.

Sure, your friends ditched you and it didn’t solve the problem nor suppress your sadness but for a moment, through the seemingly never ending storm, a sunshine pierced his way through, offering you some of his warmth. A warmth you knew you’d crave again in a not so distant future.

[stevesnailbat]

So I'm wondering if you could write something where the reader is feeling pretty depressed and Steve comforts them?

warnings: mentions of depression, death, anxiety, all around angst with some comfort at the end

word count: 1.8K

a/n: to anyone reading this, if you’re feeling down or need anyone to talk to, my inbox is always open. I’m here for you guys through everything and love you all. if you need them, here are some rescources for mental health. you are not alone in this fight

Sometimes, it’s hard to get out of bed. Sometimes, there’s no hope and it feels like nothing will ever go right. Sometimes, Y/N gets lost in her thoughts and can’t even bring herself to give her boyfriend a ring on the phone.

Today was one of those days. She felt so low and hopeless, like there was no way to get out of the hole that she’d dug herself. Days like these were hard enough as is, but today was extraordinarily tough for her. She knew she’d done it to herself, she’d ignored the bottle of antidepressants on her bathroom counter for about a week now and the old feeling of guilt and resentment had finally caught up to her. It was almost 2 in the afternoon and she hadn’t even thought about getting up, only about what could’ve happened on that fateful night and what she could’ve done differently.

She’d let herself go in the last week and Steve could tell. He tried to care for her and he tried to ask if she’d been taking care of herself and taking her medications, but she always put on a fake smile when asked questions like that. She hadn’t worn anything but sweatpants and one of his sweatshirts in three days, she hadn’t picked up any calls, she’d barely eaten except the meal her mother nearly forced down her throat the night before.

Six months had passed since the battle of Starcourt. She should’ve been recovered by now, right? She made it seem like she was, for the most part. That night had brought Steve into her life, and she’d be forever grateful for him. But right now, it was exactly six months had passed and she felt like she lost all progress that had been made. She was regressing to old habits that she’d developed in July, like sleeping all day, overthinking, putting herself into isolation. One day, she told herself, she could be sad and mourn for one day, for the six month anniversary. Deep down, she knew it wouldn’t just be one day, and so did Steve. Usually, he knew better than to come over unannounced, but this time was different.

It was almost two in the afternoon and she hadn’t even thought about getting up when she heard a knock at the front door. Her mom would answer it, she knew that. But a sense of dread filled her stomach as that sinking feeling crept up in her throat. She felt like she could vomit but had no will to move from her stop underneath the blankets. She knew who it was, but she didn’t have any desire to talk. The bedroom door creaked open after a small warning knock, signaling that he was coming in no matter what she wanted.

She didn’t need to look at the door to know who it was, the familiar smell of cologne and hairspray hit her nose as soon as he opened the door was all she needed to know it was Steve. The bed shifted beneath her as he sat on the edge of it, the sound of springs creaking making her want to hide beneath the comforter to avoid him. Before she could, Steve’s hand grabbed the edge of the blanket, he didn’t say anything as she whined in protest while trying to yank the blanket from his hands. When she finally looked over to him, she could see the pain in his eyes. As if it wasn’t already, guilt rushed through her veins once more and her lip quivered, she was the cause of his sadness.

She tore her eyes away from his gaze, choosing to stare at the fitted sheet beneath her instead. Steve didn’t know what to say, honestly. He knew why she was so sad, but he also knew she wouldn’t talk about it. She wasn’t ready to, she was never ready to talk about it.

“It’s January fourth.” she said eventually, her voice barely above a whisper as she spoke.

“Yeah, I know.” Steve sighed, craning his neck to get a look at where she was buried underneath the blankets. “It’s been a rough day.”

She didn’t know what to say to him now, probably because she couldn’t stop replaying those last moments of July 4th in her mind. She could’ve stopped it, she could’ve saved him. She could’ve helped, but she just had to get herself into a fight. If only it would’ve been her instead of him, she’d be in less pain, she’d be free.

Steve was in pain now too, but she was the cause once again. He wasn’t hurting like she was about Hopper, he wasn’t like an adopted child to the man. She’d grown to love the gruff man that Hop was, and she’s grown to love the man that El had made him even more. But he was gone, he’d been gone for months now and there wasn’t anything she could to take it all back anymore.

“It’s my fault.” she whimpered, an anxious feeling spreading through her fingertips as she began to go numb. “It’s my fault. It’s all my fault, I could’ve—I should’ve—“

“Woah, hey, hey, hey. Slow down.” Steve said frantically, eyes wide as he saw her begin to curl into herself even more underneath the blanket. “What are you talking about?”

She had never told anyone about what happened in the base that day, it had been a secret between her and Joyce for six whole months. Six damn months of bottled up emotions, guilt, self-pity, all of it. She hadn’t spoken of the moment she woke up, just to see Hopper disappear into thin air in front of her. She never wanted to think about it again, but thought repression only worked for so long. It was all bubbling to the surface now, she couldn’t stop the words of panic from escaping her lips anymore.

“I—It’s my fault. I killed him.” she croaked, shaking her head profusely as Steve tried to claw the blanket down to pull her to him. “All my fault, I could’ve saved him. But I didn’t. I—“

“Hey, hey, please look at me.” he said as she sat up quickly, still covered in the sheets as if they’d protect her from the outside world. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, you didn’t kill anybody.”

“Hopper.” she cried, tears brimming her eyes as Steve cupped her cheeks. “He—He’s dead. And I killed him, I should’ve been there to save him. But I got knocked out instead, the—the guard. He—He threw me into the wall and knocked me out, I was supposed to help. I was there to keep lookout and save them if something happened and I—I fucking failed. I should be dead. I don’t deserve to be here.”

“Stop, don’t say that.” Steve said, dropping his hands from her cheeks in disbelief of her words that dripped with malice towards herself. “You should not be dead, do not say that.”

“I don’t want to be here anymore.” she said hopelessly, tears finally spilling down her cheeks as she let out a gasp for air.

She wasn’t thinking about anything else in the moment, she wasn’t thinking about how her words could break Steve’s heart. She didn’t realize what she’d done until she locked eyes with him once more, seeing the look of defeat on his face as a single tear slipped down his left cheek. God, she was so selfish. She couldn’t even comprehend what those words would do to him until she saw him cry, she felt so selfish and she hated it. Honestly, it wasn’t her that was selfish. The depressive thoughts storming through her mind were, they wanted to destroy everything in their path, even if it included herself and her relationship with Steve.

“I—I’m sorry.” she said apologetically, wondering why she was even apologizing in the first place.

“You didn’t kill Hop, Y/N. Nobody killed him, he died saving all of us, alright? You and Joyce did everything you could to save him, that’s all we could have asked for.” he said while tracing his fingers along her hand soothingly. “You were brave, and you still are. And I love you for that, I love you and I—I don’t wanna lose you because of this guilt that you’re feeling. You deserve the world and I’m going to try my best to give it to you. I know it’s hard, I know that. But you gotta work with me, we can get through this, okay?”

“O—Okay.” she said softly, mustering up enough strength to give him a weak smile. “I’ll work with you.”

“I love you, please don’t forget it.” he said with a similar small smile, brushing some of her hair behind her ear.

“I love you too, Stevie.” she replied quietly, leaning into his embrace as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“I brought you some candy, actually. If you want some.” he suggested, beside the bed to grab a grocery bag that was completely filled. “I might’ve went a little overboard, but I knew you were probably upset and I didn’t know what you wanted.”

She giggled for a moment as he sat the bag down in front of her, but faltered for a second after realizing she had lost all appetite about three days before. It felt like her stomach had been replaced with a gaping hole only to be filled by guilt and sadness, she had no desire to eat or do anything still. But, she had to try for Steve. She knew him too well and knew that he might actually break if she said no. So, she reached for the bag but his hand stopped her from reaching into it.

“Have you taken your medicine today?” he implored and her eyes widened slightly, his voice was filled with genuine concern. “Or at all this week?”

As soon as she shook her head, Steve was out the door. He came back in a few moments carrying the bottle of pills and a glass of water. He was struggling with trying to understand her problems, but all he really knew was that he needed to be there for her. She took the bottle from his hands hesitantly, but she knew it was for the best.

“I’m gonna get you one of those pill organizer things.” he said, watching her closely as she swallowed the pill. “And you know what? We’re gonna put candy in there with each pill so you’ll want to take it every day.”

She giggled softly at his suggestion, but knew he only wanted her to get better. He would do anything for her to get better, she just had a hard time seeing how much he loved her. The sting of guilt in her gut wasn’t going away any time soon, but Steve could be her temporary fix.

tags: @sourapplebaby @harringtown @jxnehxpper @queenofthehairharrington @heart-eye-harrington @daddystevee @charmed-asylum @lemonypink @igotmadskills @a-magey

[skeletorific]

DUUUUUUUDE I'd love to see your classpects for the boys, n compare them to my own personal hc!! I love godtier stuff, and imagining them in bright silly outfits is just👌

This was so fucking PEACEFUL to work on it was a delight to do so let’s do this. I’m doing extended zodiac signs too because i CAN. Also, putting this under a cut cause it got LONG

CLASSPECTING THE SKELEBROS

UT!Sans: True sign is Scormino, Sign of the Fatalist

So, a point by point breakdown

-Cerulean: something that immediately woke me up to Sans as a Cerulean was the idea of a “mask for every occasion”. Sans is not one thing to all people. He flips between personas, adjusting it a little for each encounter. This isn’t because he’s manipulative per se, but because he genuinely thinks it’ll just make things easier for everyone

-Prospit: Prospit repression yo. Not to mention he’s more go with the flow than he is “fuck the system”.

-Doom: Rather than explain this connection, I’m just gonna paste the description for Doombound, since its practically a textbook description of Sans himself

Those bound to the aspect of Doom are fate’s chosen sufferers. It may not sound like an overly pleasant aspect to be aligned with, but it does come along with great wisdom and empathy. The Doom-bound understand that misery loves company, and they are ready and willing to provide said company. The Doom-bound won’t fix you; they aren’t healers. They are commiserators, aware that sometimes the only thing you can do for a person is let them know that they are not alone in their suffering. They are not the advice friend-they’re the friend you go to when you need to vent about a rough day at work. They are not necessarily noble martyrs, either-the Doom-bound can become quite irate about their lot. At their best they are wise, kind, and non-judgemental. At their worst, bitter, resentful, and fatalistic.

This is a summary of Genocide route Sans so succinct it could’ve been written about him intentionally. I did consider time for him, but ultimately Time is an aspect defined by a struggle. Sans does not struggle against the oncoming fate. He buys it a drink and hopes it leaves as little damage as possible in its wake.

As far as class goes, I classpect him as a Mage of Doom. One who understands or understands through their aspect, and no one understands the coming storm quite like Sans does. Mages are also traditionally understood as suffering as a result of their knowledge of their aspect whether too much or too little. In a sense, Sans’ relationship with the Anomaly encompasses both.

UT!Papyrus: True sign is Aquius, sign of the Whimsical

-Violet: Violet signs are noted for their eccentricity and individuality. I have a harder time coming up with two adjectives more fitting than that for Papyrus. Additionally, they have a reputation for craving social interaction to the point of being clingy, which is also extremely fitting

-Prospit. Not much to add to this one beyond going with the flow and an aversion to going off the beaten path.

-Breath:The aspect of freedom, confidence, imagination, and fun. Something notable about Breath players is that they’re at their best when they let loose and be themselves. Papyrus can’t really be who he wants to be when he’s trying to play a role, of guard captain or human hunter. When he’s being authentic Papyrus though, he’s capable of inspiring hearts and minds.

I classpect Papyrus as a Sylph of Breath. Papyrus does both literal and metaphorical healing. If you get knocked out during your fight with him, he carries you back to his shed and nurses you back to health. Additionally, Papyrus reminds people that they are free to chase their dreams and their own potential. He tries to make the Player recall their better intentions. He pumps up Alphys, restoring her confidence that she’s lost over the years. He heals the relationship between the player and Undyne in order to liberate Undyne to be her more authentic self: a woman who just wants to help her people. Additionally, he is a key facet in liberating the Underground, restoring the sky to people who have been denied it for so long. 

UF!Sans: True sign is Tauriborn, sign of the Covetous

-Bronze: Bronze just has that earthy quality I eat with a SPOON for Red. Additionally, they navigate that space between a genuine desire for stability and a tendency to stubbornly commit even when it hurts you. Additionally, there’s a hedonism associated with Bronze signs that feels very fitting.

-Derse: restless skepticism, a tendency to mistrust, and rebellion in the blood? Sounds like a skeleton who’s been living rent free in my head for long enough.

-Rage: There’s of course a very literal level to this. Red’s one of the angrier of the skelebros. Additionally, though, there’s a resentment of lies and false civilities. Red hates liars, hates convenient likes. He tends to play his own cards close to the chest, but resents it in other people. Additionally, there’s a burn it all down impulse that’s very present in him that resonates with this aspect.

I classpect Red as an Heir of Rage. I tend to understand Heir as one who is surrounded by their aspect, or surrounds other with their aspect. Red surrounds himself in a field of rage, and those who are the target of his wrath are too. Additionally, though, he inherits the positive aspects of wrath, the bullshit detector and the impulse towards seeking out the truth. Additionally heirs tend not to take a very intellectual approach to their aspect, because they don’t have to. They embody it unconsciously. 

UF!Papyrus: I kind of went over this but for the sake of coherency: True sign is Saginius

-Indigos: in addition to having a rep for being the bastions of order, indigos tend to devote themselves entirely to their interest. They can be sociable, but have a tendency to not really consider other people’s emotions, leading to a lot of unintentional hurts. Edge has a cold abrasive personality at many points, but it’s rare that he intends to hurt the people closest to him. It just sort of happens to him.

-Prospit: Again, Edge doesn’t rebel. He works with the society cards he’s been dealt. His prospit associations are where he’s closest to his Tale self.

-Hope: Hope is the aspect, not just of optimism, but of order. Hope players have a very black and white approach to the world, and dedication to ideals that they see as higher than themselves. Both of these are to me very Edge qualities, even if he’s not the most sunshiney person. He has things he believes in strongly, and he doesn’t wave.

I classpect Edge as a Knight of Hope. He defends his aspect, defending his ideals and the things he chooses to dedicate himself, and defends with his aspect, using his internal compass as a bastion against doubt and misgivings. Additionally, Edge has an inherent lean towards protecting and working for others, even if at his most unhealthy point his ego can make him bossy.

US!Sans: Blue’s true sign is Arcer, sign of the Officer

-Burgundy: Rust signs tend to be characterized by an unbending determination. Its not that they’re immune to the bad things in the world, its simply that they tend to roll with the punches and try to make things work regardless. Blue is quick to trust and overly excitable, but a loyal friend and an imaginative companion. All of these are Rust characteristics.

-Prospit: Again, unwavering optimism and a loyal temperament.

-Blood: Blood is the aspect of relationships and mutual support. Blue is an extremely social creature, prone to doing his best work via inspiration. He invests strongly in the people around him, and has a hard time giving up on others. Blood can also be the aspect of sinking ships. They tend to latch on to things and people other’s might consider to be “lost causes” and stubbornly refuse to leave them behind. I tend to characterize Blue with a low level of anxiety, constantly afraid that the people around him are going to leave him behind if he’s not good enough. Peak Blood player. 

I classpect Blue as a Page of Blood. Like I said, Blue’s “Sans” tendencies come out in his interactions with others. Like most pages, he has a very shakey grasp of his aspect. He genuinely has the ability to make people feel cared for and comfortable. He even has great potential to inspire others to do better. However, he’s still in the process of learning how to command his aspect effectively, sometimes vacillating between overloading people with interaction and at other times barely confiding his emotions in even the people he should be close with. As this potential unlocks, though, there’s no ceiling to all he might achieve.

US!Papyrus: Stretch’s true sign is Gemza, sign of the Shrewd

-Gold: Gold signs command intellectual prowess, quick wit, and reserved tendencies in a way Stretch has done his entire life. Something notable about goldbloods is they have a tendency to refuse to live up to their full potential. They find their niche and carve out their mark within it while letting the rest of their life functionally fade to the background as “unimportant”. Stretch is adept and knowledgeable in his areas of interest and finds it hard to give a shit about the rest. Despite this, he still hangs on to the goldblood’s usually innate likeability, albeit without much emotional vulnerability. 

-Derse: While Stretch isn’t exactly a rebel, Derse has an association with skepticism and a desire for rationality that inherently resonates with him. One thing that also stood out to me is a tendency to develop a very self-effacing sense of humor as a cover, which is a VERY Stretch quality. He doesn’t quite have the repression for Prospit, nor will he let himself be put into boxes that don’t suit him.

-Mind: Mind players (and Stretch) are defined by a certain sense of fluidity. They don’t really feel compelled to develop a strong sense of self, preferring instead to react organically to how they think is best and most logical to the moment. Stretch is a creative and quick thinker, which combines with a very nasty FOMO and an aversion to simplicity. Absolute Mind Player Core.

His classpect is tricky, but I feel Witch of Mind is the most fitting for him. Witches are often characterized by having a more lackadaisical relationship with their aspect. They understand it intimately enough to know how to break it when it suits them. In addition to reason and choice, Mind is also the aspect of systems and rules (think Terezi’s justice core). Stretch is a quick study about systems, but doesn’t necessarily adhere himself to them. Whether its a game he’s playing, a puzzle he’s solving, or a person he’s interacting with, sometimes the best thing in the world is to dig in and study until you find the point that breaks the whole thing open.

SF!Sans: Black’s true sign is Cancen, sign of the Translucent

-Lime: Lime signs tends to be characterized by forceful and intense personalities, with intense emotions and a tendency to fixate on improvement. They can often be effective at inspiring people to follow their lead, but have difficult personalities to work with. All of this is extremely Black, with the proviso that I tend to characterize him as often needing to repress those intense emotions. He leans hard into his own anger, but often covers up his other extremes for the sake of their own safety. 

-Derse: while Black has learned to cooperate with the world around him, he’s never not going to be looking for ways to get around it. He’s often sardonic, and is usually extremely slow to trust those around him. He may put on a front of being the Queen’s man through and through, but there’s a lot of Irons in the fire that he doesn’t feel the need to make public.

-Heart: As I said, I tend to characterize Black as struggling against strong emotions that even he barely understands. He has a very distinct and strong personality, as well as intensive emotions. In moments of stress, he’s prone to intense self-reflection. Where did he go wrong, where can he improve. Additionally Heart players have an association with identity constructing, frequently diffusing their personality into a variety of splinter selves in a form of elaborate “roleplaying”, which to me clicks nicely with Black’s bossy and aggro Royal Guard posturing. 

Its because of this struggle against his own aspect that I classpect Black as a Rogue of Heart. Rogues often struggle to cope with their aspect, and may even begin to crave the opposite. Black at his core craves the rational thought and pure justice of the Mind aspect. However, the more they embrace their aspect, especially in service to others (being a passive class), the healthier they often end up being. If you’ve read my “Tyrant” fic, Black steals his and Rus’s performance of self to allow them the freedom to act and pass unnoticed by the guard. He represses his own emotions to give space to other people’s, and at his best can redistribute his own assurance with his purposes to the people around him, making him potentially an inspiring presence.

SF!Papyrus: Rus’ true sign is Capries, sign of the Bold

-Purple: purples have a tendency to dedicate themselves to causes or people they care about and work until they are either stopped or made incapable or working more, much as Rus works for his brother’s well-being. Additional points of resonance were a macabre sense of humor, a tendency to withdraw when upset, a sense of fatalism, and a tendency to dig in his heels even if its against his own best interest. Plus….Clown Rus sexy what can I say.

-Derse: like his brother, Rus is inherently skeptical of easy outs. Like many Derse dreamers, he’s a problem solver, even if it comes at great personal cost. Rus’s Derseness is also exemplified in his tendency to develop strong bonds of loyalty to other people….without ever really allowing himself to be vulnerable with those people. He has the perspective that his emotions don’t truly matter.

-Time: Honestly kind of surprised it took me this long to make one of the Lazybones a time player, but I think making Rus it was the right choice. Time players are often defined by a sense of struggle. Time players are seemingly incapable of taking things lying down. Even if they won’t fight for themselves (and Rus rarely ever will) they often have an internal moral code that makes them unable to be a bystander. Rus is lazy, he’s a fatalist, he has a hard time taking care of himself. But he’s unable to stop himself from acting, especially when it involves someone he cares about. Additionally, Rus has associations with death in his judge role, which he takes extremely seriously.

I debated making Rus another knight, but ultimately I feel Seer of Time fits him better. All the Sans derivatives are prone to a sort of restless curiosity about the world around them, and in Homestuck terms I see that as a desire to in some way sync up with their aspects. A Seer is one who invites understanding. Rus seeks to reckon with both the cycle of life and death and the wide variety of timestreams that are causing havoc in his world. Unlike the mage, he has a hard time accepting what he understands: Seers are in many cases notorious for resenting the idea of someone else controlling them. Still, he’s practically unable to stop himself from exploring further, continuing to pick and pick at the scab of his reality no matter how much it hurts.

[bigtittyhimmler-blog]

Who Goes Nazi? Brooklyn Edition

If you’re anything like me, a twenty-something Twitter leftist with an advanced degree in the humanities, you hate absolutely everyone around you and badly want to kill them. You live in a brownstone playground of Timorese food and adult coloring books, and you want to suicide bomb the L train but leave a note blaming it on manspreading or whatever, so people don’t think you’re one of “those” random mass murderers (the bad kind). You hate having to tell people at parties that you “work in content,” and you hate the fact that they all also work in content. You hate that they all make content for outlets that are slightly cooler and more prestigious than the outlets you make content for. You hate that none of them have even fucked you for like thirteen months. You hate that you can’t even hate them for the ways in which they’re different to you, because there aren’t any. But fear not! There’s one thing you’ve got that nobody else does: you know that you’re definitely, 100% Not A Nazi.

But what about them? Imagine if the Nazis took over America and it was suddenly cool and prestigious to be a Nazi, and there were trendy Nazis on the TV the whole time, and they once again sold soap with slogans like “Dove: The White Pride Soap for Hating QTBIPOC and Not Amplifying Their Voices.” But also don’t imagine, because that’s exactly what’s happening.

 This game was invented by Dorothy Thompson in her classic 1941 Harpers essay Who Goes Nazi?, in which she presciently pointed out that intellectuals are definitely more Nazi than aristocrats, but not nearly as Nazi as union leaders. But she set her essay at some dinner party in the Hamptons or wherever, and last time I went out there I went swimming in the sea and a wave hit me and I lost my bikini top and a bunch of bros in boat shoes started laughing and pointing at me in a way that despite my white privilege I still feel was somehow like imbued with racism, and then afterwards I just stayed inside for three weeks writing content and ordering groceries online, so the setting needs to be updated. Let’s look at your group DM. Which of these Twitter creatives who live in Brooklyn would go along with it and become a Nazi? (All of them.) And who never, ever would? (Me.)

 Mr A isn’t actually in your group DM, and you’ve never encountered anyone like him irl, but you literally can’t stop talking about him, so he gets included anyway. Mr A is a short ugly loser, and he’s already a Nazi. He doesn’t even live in Brooklyn, he lives in his mother’s basement, and eats chicken tenders, and he doesn’t get laid, but in a different way to the way you don’t get laid, which has to do with patriarchy. Mr A is a Pizzagate. Mr A is a Gamergate. Mr A is a segregationist. Mr A opposes the reforms of the Emperor Diocletian (284-305). Mr A won’t shut up about the superiority of a “free silver” bimetallic monetary system over gold specie, and keeps on talking about the “gold shills” in a way that doesn’t really make sense until you realize that your own name is Goldschmidt, and yeah, he doesn’t really care about expansionary monetary policy at all, he’s talking about the Jews, and specifically you. Mr A is basically a pathetic worm whose life sucks and nobody likes him, but also he represents the whole of the repressive forces of society and he’s at the top of the social hierarchy. Everyone you’ve ever met is actually Mr A, wearing various masks. He is the source of all your problems. He must be killed, and once we kill him, we need to find more people like him to be the source of any problems we have left over.

 Mr B is in your group DM, but you also have a separate group DM with everyone else except Mr B in it. He keeps trying so hard to be nice, and says stuff like “so how is everyone’s day today” with a smiley emoji, and when you’re talking to him you get this airless feeling like you’re about to suffocate in his treacly good-natured presence. Every time you see Mr B at a party you’re afraid that he’s going to blurt out that he loves you, but you can’t keep your distance too much because he’s so clearly autistic, and you don’t want to be ableist. Anyway once in the group DM he said that while he obviously thought divining for water with Y-shaped copper rods was good and important and valid, he didn’t understand what it had to do with socialism. That made everything better, because clearly he’s a Nazi. The whole group DM expended hours of emotional labor educating him about how dowsing is part of LGBTQ+ culture and how his dismissive bro-y attitude was reactionary and gross, and eventually he posted a video of himself crying and begging for forgiveness and promising to do better, because you guys were the only friends he had. This was classic white fragility, but in the end you let him stay. You just have the other DM now, where you make fun of him and it’s ok, because if the Nazis came and he had license to start being cruel and sadistic to other people, he’d definitely do it.

 Ms C is one of those women who doesn’t like other women, and you know this about her because you can’t fucking stand the bitch. Plus she says stuff that’s really not ok, even though it costs nothing to have empathy and be kind. You’ve personally heard her use the D-word, the H-slur, and the L-pejorative, all while laughing and holding a glass of white wine by the stem, like she doesn’t need to consider the harm this does to others, just because she’s “funny” and “an artist.” She’s the Cool Chick. She makes nude self-portraits (the bad, skinny kind), and she’d throw you under the bus in a second for male attention and approval. She’d definitely go Nazi. But the worst thing about her is that she has the impudence to be bisexual and Asian, which makes it really hard to call her out. But then you realized that all Asian people are collectively responsible for the long history of anti-Blackness and misogynoir in their communities, and you’re thinking of holding her collectively responsible for the Rape of Nanking too, once you’re certain she’s a sushi Asian and not the dim sum kind.

 Ms D’s boyfriend works in finance, or like accountancy or something, or I think I heard he was a musician? Maybe a drummer or possibly he used to bartend at a place where they had live music. Anyway they definitely have vanilla cishet sex in the missionary position and you can’t stop thinking about it, his body, her body, naked, moving, breathing, together, almost silent, tender, disgusting. She says she’s a socialist but doesn’t devote every minute of her waking life to getting mad about people online. This means she’s just vaguely following a trend, and if the trend were being a Nazi (which it is), she’d be a Nazi (which she therefore is). You can’t imagine yourself actually hitting her but it’d definitely be punching up to maybe poison her food?

 Mr E used to be a comrade, but then he did a tweet that got 38.6k RT’s and now he’s moved to Los Angeles to spend his whole time in writers’ rooms. Last you heard he was pitching an animated show for adults about a snail with borderline personality disorder. It hasn’t even been greenlit yet, but you’re already thinking about all the ways in which it will be a missed opportunity and do harm and perpetuate tropes. Mr E will definitely turn out to have been a Nazi, and then you can start an anonymous petition to get the show cancelled so he has to move back to New York. Once he’s back you can send him a long email about how much it sucks his career burned out and how (even though you won’t say it in public) sometimes people do actually take the social-justice thing too far. That way he’ll be a comrade again, which is good, because we believe in rehabilitating people who have a genuine change of heart.

 Mr F probably thinks he’s better than you. He’s a union organizer. So are you (you added “#Unionize” to your Twitter name), but his union stuff involves workers who aren’t in tech, content, or grad school, and he probably thinks that makes him more in touch with “the real workers,” who he probably thinks are just a bunch of cis white males in a factory, who are probably all racist and probably have thick, heavy dicks that intrude on your mind in a kinda #MeToo way a lot of the time. He talks about class, and you agree that class is important because you’re not a lib (you support Bernie, you just want him to Do Better). But from the way he says it you’re certain he doesn’t acknowledge all he/him lesbians as part of the working class. He’s trying to save a tiny sector of the workers from a necessary and important socio-economic shift that will impoverish them and make their lives worse, and that’s what being a Nazi is. This is why his union needs to stop dragging their heels, change all of their rules and priorities, and let you get him fired.

 Ms G (me) will never go Nazi, because she is beautiful and kind and pure, and has all the good opinions instead of the bad ones. Because of this she’s allowed to do things that other people can’t do. She can totally fail to understand what having an authoritarian personality actually means, and construct a version of the Who Goes Nazi? essay in which the people who go Nazi are just people who are already right wing, having confused politics with personality, probably because she herself has no personality other than her politics. She can minimize, ignore, or even encourage the infliction of actual suffering when it happens to the wrong kind of people. She can write that “nothing that terrible has really happened” since the publication of Mark Fisher’s Exiting the Vampire Castle, even though Mark Fisher himself is mysteriously not around to appreciate that fact. She can do some shit with threatening to leak an unedited draft that I don’t even want to go into. She knows that the Nazis don’t come promising hatred but promising to be your friend, but it’s ok because she doesn’t really have any friends, just mufos. She’s doing great. She’s building a better, kinder world. She will never, ever be the Nazis.

[longeyelashedtragedy]

this has been the most wild fuckin year so let’s do a Year in Review shall we

in terms of internet and fandom life, that is. my real life has been atrociously boring but who cares about real life amirite folx

january probably the only calm month of the year.  i spent the first day of the month watching the brazilian inauguration in burgos, spain with one headphone in, while ordering for my family in a restaurant where nobody spoke english (my sister speaks decent spanish, but my whole family has like 8194814 food restrictions so it kind of went past her level of ability). translating between spanish and english with portuguese in one year was kind of awesome. i watched bodyguard and it was amazing!  what else...in january i briefly owned the issue of spanish GQ with Luka on the cover which i then forgot about until november. other than that...? nada.  the calm before the storm. (fav music)

february was so long ago that i keep forgetting how insane its 28 days were.  probably the wildest month of the year really. i got involved in an absolutely batshit and exclusive group chat with a famous person’s family member (which must remain confidential). it was all sunshine and rainbows for a week and a half and it then devolved into the most absolutely insane Lord of the Flies situation ever--it turned into 1 main chat and then 1 chat that was less puritanical than the main chat, and that chat spawned another chat that didn’t trust the previous chat, and then that chat had a massive argument and a like 6-person bitchy chat modded by a gay guy who does voodoo (shoutout to ALCIDES) spawned from that one.  i made it into every level of group chat and was asked by the tiny bitchy chat to spy on the other bitchy chat (i did not lol). i was a member of the tiny bitchy chat until i got a new phone and was logged out of whatsapp for like a month.  these words can’t even convey what this chat was like--oh and did i mention it was all conducted in only my 3rd-best language? it’s no wonder my weird ass survived middle school almost entirely unscathed.  as this was winding down, on the very last day of the month, I found out about Justin’s involvement in the SNC-Lavalin scandal and decided to go public about my years-long boner for him; Lavscam definitely changed the course of the rest year ~ Oh, also i began helping to repair a friendship that had had some Drama go down so that was p cool ~ (fav music)

march was a Time. The insanity of lavscam helped me finally finish the macdeau I started writing the previous December when a bunch of tungelr people called me disgusting for writing it.  i wrote my first straight-up serious explicit porn in years which has wound up being the third-longest thing i’ve ever published on ao3. Also, Hozier released Wasteland, Baby! which made a huge impact on me as well.  i spent like half of march staying up till 3:30 am writing said Long Fic, and i was firmly in the closet about stanning manu. also justin almost got a vote of no confidence or something and he got busted for eating a chocolate bar during a parliamentary all-nighter.  (fav music)

in april i wrote a ton of fanfic thanks to declining mental health(tm).  i think this is when i started my emmanuyell insta account and became really into making weird edits (which i still love doing just...don’t anymore.)  i started meeting some cool people thanks to macdeau.  what else happened in april? i feel like it wasn’t actually too eventful other than writing a lot of fanfic and being Annoyed about manu.  feel free to jog my memory lol.  oh i think i wrote “Okay so who from the French national team are we gonna ship Manu with” on twitter after seeing photos of manu + antoine griezmann at the World Cup but nothing came of that...at that time... (fav music)

may saw me having to deal with my shit mental health and up my meds but that seems to have had a good effect because i seem to not be too depressed to write in the winter/fall anymore! it was the 2nd anniversary of manu’s election and at the Christchurch Call in paris, macdeau took that amazing fairytale princess photo together that was completely unrivalled in Gay Shippy Feels moments until ivan went out of his way to kiss luka during the el clásico gameplay last wednesday. someone wrote ao3′s first griezmanu drabble and at the end manu gets down on his knees in front of antoine, takes off his shoes for him, and sucks his dick, and i achieved another state of being entirely.  my sister graduated from grad school and when we went down to DC for the weekend i went to eat at this restaurant manu famously ate at while there and ordered the same stuff he did and i have no idea how he consumed all that grease.  i learned about the song O Come, O Come, Emmanuel *snort*. i feel like other things happened in may too?  OH YES--i got the idea for my magnum opus, Trophy Boyfriend, and started to write it. the first scene i wrote was justin blowing manu in the hallway. then the same day i wrote the scene at the airport (which was the ending for a solid month and half till i realized it shouldn’t be), and the saddest scene in the fic--but we’ll stop to open presents.  oh! and i stumbled across the macronists discord chat which is such a delightful little community *weepy sniffles* (fav music)

june was Eventful.  a french neonazi on tumblr told me to go let manu fuck me in the ass because i was a fucking degenerate.  what a start!  then came the ceremony in which manu awarded everyone on the french national team the legion of honor medal and the way he and antoine looked at each other was truly...Wait it was the 3rd Gay Shippy Feels moment of the year.  as soon as the ceremony was over i wrote a fic about it and haven’t looked back.  between this + watching almost every 2018 World Cup game and the women’s world cup (during which I cried during argentina’s last game because of that miraculous penalty) i finally achieved my years-long goal of getting into Futbol(TM).  Antoine dropped his spotify playlist and my crush on him turned into Intense Love (TM) and also he introduced me to some legit awesome artists.  which led to (fav music)

july, in which i wrote “ça c’est ma dope” which is definitely the best thing i’ve written since i wrote “modernity towering in front of the sky” almost exactly 10 years before. got embroiled in Soccer Transfer Drama and learned its pain for the first time (unfortunately, since i wound up attaching my heart-wagon to barça’s Suddenly Least Favorite Player, the transfer drama pain has...never ended) became a full-fledged culé, O the joy O the honor.  i wanted to ship antoine with someone on the team, which in their current chemistry-less season is a real challenge, but after seeing a few photos i decided it would be fun to casually ship antoine + ivan rakitic (partially because, ever since i went from Enemies to Lovers with the croatia NT during the World Cup, he was one of the only players i knew anything about other than messi, suárez, and piqué lmao). while looking on ao3 to see what kind of headcanons people had about him--and the fic is definitely in general better than what’s out there about antoine, which is perplexing because antoine is much easier to write than ivan--i found That Amazing Rakidric Fic and thought “oh wait that ship makes a lot of sense” and started also shipping ivan and luka with the fire of a thousand suns.  oh and my air conditioner was broken for like 3 weeks. i worked on more fics, seriously outlining the path of Trophy Boyfriend, and my music taste was killer. (fav music)

in august i finished Trophy Boyfriend in my neighborhood Starbucks after writing the scene that was giving me the most trouble (the scene at the beginning where they’re organizing their book collection). the fic has made multiple people cry and people disagree on whether justin’s choice at the end was the right one and god i’m so proud of it.  Instantly went on to write ‘i might not mind,’ a lively lighthearted Friends to Lovers ivantoine~ romp which was definitely going to be a one-off and i was definitely not going to get an extra celeb crush out of it,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, (fav music)

in september ivantoine became A Thing in my mind and it’s a whole ongoing slow-burn character-arcy series that has taken a very different turn than i had expected. i’m not saying it’s like, the most deep writing of all time, but it’s gone to some interesting places emotionally. honestly, ships and boners aside, the concept of a person who made some really stupid homophobia 101 comments many years ago slowly realizing over and over again that they have gay feelings for a man who seems rather comfortable with gayness is a fascinating one and one that’s really cool to explore in writing.  Or at least, i think so.  in many ways ivan is my most unreliable narrator because of the many layers of Discomfort, Emotion and Repression at play in the fic while he’s interacting with this pretty cheery and uncomplicated seeming-dude who’s still perceptive enough to sort of know what’s going on (and that’s not even adding in the star player/falling from grace former rockstar dynamic!!!)  i know in the current climate it’s Not Allowed to write about someone who said a bad, but luckily i’m too old to give a Fuck. ivantoine is hard to write but it’s my bff’s favorite ship of mine and has a few other excited fans on ao3 which tbh is kind of an accomplishment considering i made it up out of thin air and it’s not something you’d ever think would be a thing. instantly also developed ‘getting called out about ivan by a child on the internet’ as a goal.  and...i achieved my dream of leading high holiday services!!! (fav music)

october had more high holiday services and i worked a lot on certain fics (including d*janfic which would be fun to finish). i came up with the idea of a Very Long Rakidric Fic based on the translation of a gorgeous croatian folk song i sang in college (Janko fell asleep under the poplar/My dear and beloved/My beautiful dark eyes/Look at me/Under the poplar's golden branch/My dear and beloved/My beautiful dark eyes/Look at me/I tore off the golden branch/My dear and beloved/My beautiful dark eyes/Look at me--in which the golden branch is a reference to a way to get into the underworld). decided to start quarter-assedly learning croatian for fun.  Fun...ha.  other than fangirling a lot and watching the croatian NT play, october was pretty uneventful? i think? Justin got reelected and mauricio didn’t ;( (fav music)

in november i finally achieved my dream of having a literal child on the internet call me out about being attracted to a homophobe.  (they were a madridista even!) accidentally started writing some more rakidric and now i’m seriously hooked.  also accidentally came out of the closet about the secret crush i’d been harboring on luka modric and then one fateful day in the ihop on 14th st i realized i’d had this crush already and repressed it from my memory. Don’t do that kids! now it’s Hurting Really Bad. Ivan dropped the most pathetic and candid interview like...ever and i hope “¿Cómo puede disfrutar uno? Jugando al fútbol. ¿Cómo se siente mi hija pequeña cuando le quitan un juguete? Triste. Yo me siento igual. Me han quitado la pelota, me siento triste” goes down in the history of most epic futbol quotes of all time.  (still haven’t actually been able to watch this because no one has uploaded it anywhere)  What else...............Am i forgetting anything? i celebrated my birthday with @tender-vittles in epic fashion after two years of Not doing that, and turned 32 going on 15.  enjoyed my first-ever “x reader” fic (zlatko dalic x reader LOL) and finished “drive your plow over the bones of the dead” which was real fucking good. i saw hozier live and it was a religious experience and i unexpectedly cried during nina cried power and then called myself “Luka B” when ordering at the classy taco bell across the street after getting a glimpse of alexxx ryan in the flesh. (fav music)

now it’s december and my seasonal depression is a little worse than it’s been the past few years but i’m managing.  still shipping and writing and i just got called out about ivan again last week.  i’m 2 for 2 here!  el clásico was boring but also it was gay and my heart my heart my heart ! Anything could happen in the last 10 days of this year and honestly...I’m pretty sure I’m ready.

Most importantly this year, despite it being not that great in a lot of ways, I developed a lot more self confidence, made many important realizations, and became a lot more peaceful (despite how this post makes me sound) and wiser and less bitter and pessimistic.  And i became outspoken enough about antisemitism on the left to lose friends over it...3 for 3.  i can’t say i’m displeased with these developments.

Hasta 2020! <3

[cougarforcenty]

hung the moon...

a/n: some of you may dislike the ending as its a bit of a cliffhanger. i couldn’t make up my mind. may write a second part to this one. feedback is glorious + nourishing fruit.

summary: noah + the new costar who hates him get stuck in a precarious situation. costar’s faceclaim is the beautiful zazie beetz.

word count: 2638

warnings: none

You couldn’t really place it. You didn’t know what it was about him, or the general idea of him, that you found so untoward and irritating. You had enough self-awareness to realize that it may be the complete makings of your own neurosis and natural distrust but you just couldn’t shake it.

Everyone positively loved him. He had the cast and crew practically eating out of his hands. The girls in hair and makeup laughed at all his silly, menial jokes. The director showered him with compliments and tempered direction. Your co-stars would retell stories from the nights you went to bed early about some stupid prank he pulled on someone.

All in all, it seemed like you were the only one not fully on the Noah Centineo train.

But really, that was completely okay with you. You didn’t have the time or energy or mental capacity to be sucked into the false charm of another male co-star.

Been there, done that, didn’t even get a t-shirt.

At this point, you wanted to focus on your craft; wanted to truly harness your emotive propensities. You wanted to give a stellar performance and then get onto the next set, with a completely new group of people and hopefully not be cast alongside the world’s next biggest heartthrob.

You hope that your reticence with him isn’t coming off in your scenes together. You try to play it off as how your character would organically feel in a situation of love triangle proportions. You watch the dailies and can see that slight sheened veneer you put on when your characters are entangled. Whether emotionally or physically, or in the most difficult of spaces when both were required.

You’d skipped out on the suggested bonding practices that predated production and have maybe said 5 words to him directly when not in character. Though he’s tried numerous times to bridge the gap.

You continued to tell yourself it wasn’t unprofessional, you were simply protecting yourself. You wondered if your faux indifference would make for awkward promo after the film’s end but hadn’t thought that far in advance.

You were an actress after all. You knew how to fake it so you weren’t actually that concerned.

But this was the first time on one of your only days off that the director wanted you to meet her at a new location prior to shooting there.

Your reverence for her work made the inconvenience well worth it. Even in the middle of a very chilly fall in New York.

While waiting for the elevator doors to open in a rickety old building, you see Noah approaching.

You hadn’t realized you had both been called for this specific task. You’re instantly annoyed and pull your jacket around yourself snuggly.

He looks just as surprised to see you but doesn’t say anything.

You wait for the elevator in complete silence which seems to be taking literal years to make it down to the first floor, the little illuminating button almost taunting you with its beaming.

Finally, the doors slowly open and you walk in, he follows you a few paces behind.

He casually leans against the opposite side of the elevator and watches you push the button for the 7th floor.

“You know what this is about?” Noah finally says loosely, you can feel the weight of his gaze on the side of your face.

You shake your head lightly.

“It’s cold today,” he offers.

He’s talking about the weather and you want to die. You want to just vanish into a million little pieces.

You hate talking about the weather. You hate small talk with a passion that rivals little else.

Small talk was a waste of energy and vocal undulations.

You offer no verbal response.

Suddenly, the elevator jolts, sending you toward the button panel and then immediately stills.

Your ears start to ring as you immediately realize what just happened. You can tell Noah is saying something but you can’t make it out.

“No… no, no…” you mutter as you hit the panel. You try the emergency button, nothing. Then you hit any button in a desperate attempt to get the elevator moving again.

You feel your stomach drop when nothing happens.

“Shit,” you kick the bottom of the door which causes a jolt of pain to shoot through your foot.

You remember he’s there when you feel his hands brushing yours away from the panel.

“Don’t do that, you’ll only jam it,” Noah explains, calmly.

You angle away from his touch.

“Don’t touch me,” you mutter. You almost think you said it in your head until you look at him and realize his expression has gone from concerned to confused.

“You’re right,” Noah admits quickly, he takes a step away from you. “I’m sorry. I shouldn't have touched you.”

Pain radiates from you booted foot.

“Fuck, that hurt,” you complain, attempting to put weight on your foot.

“Yeah, well elevator’s are made of steel,” Noah remarks as he takes out his phone. “No service.”

“Ugh,” you mutter as you squeeze your eyes shut against the ever impending reality of your current circumstance. You quickly glance at your phone. “Damnit!”

You repress the urge to throw it against the closed steel doors.

“What did I do to deserve this?” You demand to the unmoving metal.

“Someone will notice the elevator isn’t working,” Noah reasons gently. He’s retreated back to his corner.

“In this damn near deserted building?”

“Right.”

Silence looms as you attempt to slow your racing heart by pulling some deep breaths.

“How are you so calm?” You accuse.

He shrugs. He’s studying you. The way he sometimes did. The way he did when you were on set, or running lines with someone else or at dinner with the entire cast. You’ve caught him quietly contemplating some aspect of you and always immediately acted as if you didn’t see it.

You had a feeling he was always trying to silently figure you out.

But you weren’t budging. You refused to fall for whatever guise he operated under.

“I just don’t feel the need to freak out,” he offers simply. “It’ll start working again.”

You huff and continue to glare at the elevator panel.

Of course the universe would conspire to have you stuck in an elevator with this man. That’s exactly what type of track you were on personally.

Even if your professional life was flourishing, your personal life and emotional safety weren’t necessarily corresponding.

“I can take a look at your foot if you want,” Noah offered loosely.

“Does that line typically work for you?”

“Don’t really have much occasion to use it,” he countered without missing a beat. “Can’t say that I’ve seen many women kick steel elevator doors.”

“You aren’t a doctor,” you exclaim. “You wouldn’t even know what to look for. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Okay.”

You silently stare at the doors, willing the elevator to start back up again. You really need to get out of there.

“Hey, listen… if I ever did or said something to offend you, I’m really sorry,” he offers evenly.

You still can’t look at him but you feel momentarily bad until you realize that this softness, this unending affable posturing that he seemed to be angling at wasn’t gonna work on you.

You’ve been a sucker before and those days were long gone.

“You didn’t offend me, Noah,” you begin carefully. Your anxiety still looming at the reality of this enclosed space. “I just don’t buy it.”

“I’m sorry, what? What don’t you buy?”

“Your whole schtick. The act,” you respond. “The effortlessly charming ‘nice guy.’ The internet’s boyfriend. Maybe everyone else eats it up, but I see right through it.”

There’s silence on the tail end of your claim. You almost want to look at his expression after your admission but feel it better to keep your attention outward.

Then you hear a small chuckle and you’re instantly infuriated.

“When did you become an expert on ‘schtick’s’?” He questions. “Is it a class you can take?”

“Fuck you-”

He completely bypasses that remark.

“Do you typically so easily pass judgment on people without knowing them or is that a specific distinction I get the privilege of.”

“I don’t need to know you to be able to peep your whole game,” you retort.

You finally do look at him. His arms and legs crossed, leaning against the elevator. The way he’s holding his body reminds you of the easy posture of someone who looks like he’s lying down while upright. Utterly relaxed. His gaze is unflinching.

“There is no game,” Noah corrects. “I’m not the way I am for any type of personal gain.”

You laugh now. You think that maybe mirroring his own reactions will somehow allow you to calm down and make you less unnerved by his own ease. Because all it’s actually doing is making you more irritated.

“No gain? Besides everyone thinking you hung the moon, right? Okay.”

“You’re wrong,” he offers simply.

“That’s doubtful.”

“It’s actually unfortunate that you’ve relied so heavily on this narrative that’s a complete fabrication,” Noah responds. “Because if you hadn’t, then maybe we’d actually be friends or at least civil and you wouldn’t be standing in a stalled elevator seething because of some misguided hatred.”

“Oh my God,” you lament loudly, turning back to the elevator and banging on the door. “Let me out of here!”

“That won’t help.”

“Please stop talking.”

“Sure.”

He goes silent and the silence is almost worse than hearing his incessant gabbing.

You feel a well of emotion come up dissimilar to the anger and terror you’d been trying to mask since the elevator stopped.

“You men are the fucking worst,” you mutter, not even to him directly but you know he hears you.

“What’s his name?”

“Who?”

“Whoever has you out here distrusting complete strangers,” Noah ponders.

“Names, plural. Your kind are real winners,” you remark, taking a deep breath in an attempt to try and subside some of the sadness creeping in.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that. You are also not a complete stranger. You have a very public persona.”

“As do you,” Noah reminds you. “Or one that’s been crafted around your relationship at least, but unlike you, I don’t necessarily believe it.”

You prickle at that. Just the mention of your ex sends you to another realm you can’t really occupy in such close quarters. You feel like the elevator is much too small for all the vitriol you hold for him and your memories.  

“I’m not talking to Disney channel’s wonder child about any of this.”

“You’re mean,” he observes lightly. But he doesn’t actually seem offended. Which is weird to you.

Were you trying to break him? Trying to rile him? What were you actually doing besides internally screaming for something?

“But maybe not as much as I originally thought,” Noah continues thoughtfully. “If I’m honest, it sort of hurt my feelings that you were so kind to everyone else. I tried not to take it personally. But more than mean I think you’re hurt.”

“Please do me a favor and don’t ever fix your mouth in an attempt to psychoanalyze me again.”

You look up at the elevators mirrored ceiling and let out a primal scream. Once it’s out, you bend over, bracing yourself with your hands against your knees, just praying that the elevator will start working.

You silently count to 10 with your eyes squeezed shut. When you open them there’s no change.

You feel worse.

“We’re gonna die in here,” you say desperately.

“We will not die in here,” Noah assures you.

“What do you know?”

“It’s a shame our characters don’t hate each other,” Noah offers thoughtfully. “You’d have a head start.”

“You’re not important enough to hate, Noah,” you exclaim bitterly.

“Ouch.”

You feel yourself vacillating between anger, fear, sadness, and panic. All emotions you don’t want anywhere near this man you’ve kept at an arm's length.

“Will you stop looking at me?” You’ve felt his eyes on you intermittently the entire time and the longer that continues, the more unnerved you become.

“Where else am I supposed to look?”

You can tell he’s trying to be playful. Which is maddening and also a bit sweet because you momentarily forget you’re freaking out.

“Anywhere else.”

“I’m looking at you because you’re trembling,” Noah offers gently.

“It’s fucking freezing.”

“Hey, look at me,” Noah requests after a moment. It takes you a full 7 seconds to bring yourself to do as he says.

His gaze is so gentle and innocent, you almost feel like you’ll burst into tears just looking at him.

“I will not hurt you.”

Those words hit you with every ounce of sincerity they are uttered alongside.

You instantly believe him and you’re pissed about it.

He straightens and walks toward you. Which is only about two paces in that elevator. His hand’s tentatively on your shoulder and it’s only then when you physically feel just how much you are shaking.

“Is this okay?”

You nod your head wordlessly. He outstretches his other arm and with the most subtle movements, wraps you into a light hug.

You lean against him instantly, your body finally being cued to relax for the first time since the elevator stalled. Your hands come up and grasp the sides of his jacket, your ear against his chest.

He tightens his arms around you as you sink further into his warmth.

“Your heart is racing,” he mutters.

“Anxiety,” you sigh. “How are you so warm?”

“I don’t know, I just run hot.”

Being in his arms feels so good. You want to believe it’s just his body heat and the lack of your own but it’s something else. Something that pulls at the pit of your stomach and knaws at your conscious.

If someone would have told you, even 12 hours ago, that Noah would be holding you in this moment, you would have laughed in their face.

Maybe you were wrong about him.

That realization makes your heart drop and all the myriad of emotions that well up in you are steeped in regret and embarrassment.

He’s being so sweet to you and you’ve been nothing but a pain in the ass.

You feel your eyes burn with tears as you wrap your arms completely around him beneath his jacket.

“I’m sorry I’ve been such a bitch to you,” you mutter. You attempt to school your tears but they won’t be reasoned with.

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” you exclaim against his chest, your voice breaking. “I have such a shitty track record with charming men, I just clammed up. I didn’t even get to know you on a basic human level and that’s so embarrassing. I’m so sorry.”

The tears are flowing now and you feel absolutely mortified.

He pulls back briefly just to peer into your face. He wordlessly wipes away your tears and envelops you back into his arms. This only makes you cry harder.

Where did this deep generosity come from? Why was he so willing to freely give it?

“Shhhh,” Noah offers, resting his cheek against the top of your head. “It’s okay.”

“It’s so fucked up,” you cry into his chest. You don’t know where these tears are even coming from, or why you feel safe enough to unload them with him in this moment.

There’s a lot there that you haven’t even begun to speak of.

He’s back to wiping your tears away and his eyes look like the most delectable mixture of honey and amber and you feel certain you’re in the Twilight zone because all you want to do is kiss him as your eyes flick toward his mouth.

But you wouldn’t dare… it feels like too big a stretch and you aren’t that brave.