#2700 words

[incesthemes]

first and foremost i'm blown away by jared's acting in born under a bad sign. he plays meg so well and it allows me to really see and interpret the differences between sam and meg so well, and maybe it's because i'm not an actor but the fact that he can make such a profound yet subtle distinction between "sam" and "demon who's pretending to be sam" feels extremely complex and difficult to pull off, and it's so impressive to me.

what's most striking about this portrayal of meg is how subdued she is while acting as sam. she never has any bombastic or dramatic reactions to things, she's calm and collected and very in control of herself. she seems to be rather incapable of showing extreme, human emotions, and this shows up in her sluggish and matter-of-fact responses. she's extremely committed to her bit and only breaks character when dean is for sure not looking (and only goes so far as a few eye-rolls), but she's not actually sam. they're different people with different emotional capacities and this is evident all throughout the episode. when sam finally regains control of his body at the end of the episode, the change is instantaneous: he's animated and jerky and wildly emotive again.

the other thing that strikes me is that while pretending to be sam, she's unfailingly obedient to dean. i think this reveals a lot about her character, particularly in how she sees sam. it's no secret by now that meg hates dean—even before she was exorcised she showed a heavy disdain for him in both scarecrow and shadow, even going so far as to suggest fratricide. she considers him overbearing and stifling, controlling and cruel, and meg watched sam trot back to that overbearing, stifling, controlling, cruel brother with his tail wagging happily. she sees sam as being suppressed by his brother, especially since the alternative (leaving dean and embracing his fate as boy king) would make sam stronger, larger, more powerful.

so she sees sam as weak, as someone with no will of his own, who's been so beaten down by his horrible older brother that he can't make his own decisions and live his own life. and this is how she portrays sam, following dean's orders, staying in the background, never being too forward.

this all changes drastically when she's confronting jo. she's much more animated and erratic, lacing her words with acid and acting much more physical and dominating. meg can be more of herself around jo because jo doesn't know sam as well and jo won't think to question her the way dean would. this soggy, pathetic, subdued, obedient little brother act is a performance for dean only, so it displays not only how meg sees sam, but how meg sees dean.

it's all such an elaborate ruse, and it reveals a lot about meg's character, and also how sam and dean look from an outsider's perspective—at least, an outsider who wants sam to hurry up and embrace his destiny already instead of letting himself be hold back by his brother. it's a really unique perspective on the story that's been unfolding, and it's performed with what i'd say is a rather high level of skill. seriously, it's amazing how jared pulls this off.

[bbcphile]

Mysterious Lotus Casebook and Complex PTSD Representations: Part I

One of my favorite things about Mysterious Lotus Casebook is how surprisingly nuanced and unusual its portrayal of complex PTSD is. So many shows either introduce character trauma to make the character Sad and Brooding, Angry and Violent (if they’re a villain) or Hesitant to Start a Relationship (if it’s a romance), and that’s usually as in-depth as it gets. If they address the unique after effects of child abuse that lead to complex PTSD at all, it’s usually either explain why a character is a homicidal monster (which is all sorts of problematic) or it’s limited to a single phobia, which can be overcome by the Power of Love, or it’s just something that crops up occasionally for Plot and then forgotten about the rest of the time. 

Mysterious Lotus Casebook gives us two deeply traumatized characters–Li Lianhua and Di Feisheng–who each have clear symptoms of complex PTSD, and yet, their cPTSD manifests completely differently because of the types of traumas that caused it and their relationships to the people causing the traumas. And their manifestations of cPTSD affect just about every level of their being, including their sense of self, their decision-making, and their relationships with others, and it includes some of the incredibly important manifestations of cPTSD that are almost never shown in media while avoiding the most insulting stereotypes! 

PTSD vs cPTSD

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is an anxiety disorder caused by experiencing a single (or short lived) traumatic event (an accident, assault, medical emergency, fighting in a war, etc), where the symptoms last for longer than a month. Symptoms include things like reexperiencing the event (flashbacks), avoidance (of things related to the event), changes in mood (depression, anger, fear, etc), and issues with emotional regulation (hypervigilance–being constantly on the lookout for threats–irritability/angry outbursts, etc.).

Complex PTSD happens if someone has experienced long term, chronic/repeated trauma that induces hopelessness and no chance of escape (survivors of extended child abuse, human trafficking, domestic violence, prisoners of war, slavery, etc.). It’s also often interpersonal in ways a car crash or medical emergency is not, and is particularly linked with chronic trauma during childhood: chronic stress hormones introduce literal physical changes in a growing brain, particularly the amygdala (which processes fear), hippocampus (which is responsible for learning/memory), and the prefrontal cortex (which is responsible for executive function), so it can affect every aspect of life and also affect a child’s progression through developmental stages. In addition to these physical changes to the brain, the prolonged trauma–particularly the helplessness–distorts a child’s sense of self, the perpetrator, and the world in ways that alter their decision making, their memory, and their future relationships. 

For instance, whereas a traumatic event that caused PTSD might make you depressed or not trust the person who harmed you (or to fear driving), the trauma from cPTSD might make you suicidal, blame yourself for your victimization, decide to isolate to avoid interpersonal relationships to keep from getting hurt, or become obsessed with never being harmed again.

Basically, cPTSD has the core symptoms from PTSD with some extra challenges, including issues with emotional regulation, self-concept, interruptions in consciousness, difficulties with relationships, perceptions of the perpetrator, and systems of meaning.

DFS and LLH: CPTSD Symptoms

There’s so much more to say about this than I can cover in this superficial introduction, so this will be the first of a series of metas; I’m hoping to go into more depth about some of these categories in future posts (the DFS and emotional regulation/violence one is already drafted, so stay tuned). 

Difficulties with Relationships (problems with trust, communication, missing red flags): Both DFS and LLH have a history of trusting the wrong people and not trusting the right people, both in the past and in the present of the show: in the past, LLH missed the fact that SGD hated him and DFS missed the fact that JLQ was obsessed with him, and as a result, both sects were destroyed, many people died, and the two almost destroyed each other. If they had communicated with each other instead of fighting at the donghai battle, they might have realized they were being set up and could have worked together, but their difficulties with trust after perceived betrayal made that impossible for them. They both have a history of overlooking red flags in the present–DFS in particular, keeping the red-flag-personified-JLQ around despite her history of poisoning people, including himself–and they both tend to struggle with relationships in the present: LLH runs away from and/or drugs the people who care about him, and DFS sends endless mixed messages by not telling Li Lianhua most of his plans to help him. 

Self-Concept (Self-hatred and self-fragmentation): Li Lianhua is basically the poster child for having a negative self concept: he has an overdeveloped sense of self-blame and responsibility, even believing he deserves to die for leading his men to their deaths, and once he learns he was manipulated and SGD was behind it all, he seems to think it’s his own fault that he was manipulated, lied to, and abused. His self-loathing is so extreme that he imagines his earlier self, Li Xiangyi, to have died, and tries as much as possible to be nothing like that earlier persona. His repeated insistence that Li Xiangyi and Li Lianhua are NOT the same person is reminiscent of the fragmentary sense of self that comes with more extreme trauma, like Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID) or Other-Specified Dissociative Disorder (OSDD), where traumatic experiences are so painful that people form different alters, or differentiated self-states, that can have different names and skills and memories and identities. 

Di Feisheng doesn’t have the self-hatred or guilt that LLH does, and it seems like he tries to skip over questions of self worth, blame, or hatred by focusing exclusively on staying true to his code of ethics he’s developed for himself and focusing on gaining the strength necessary to fight for his freedom from mind control and the Di Fortress. But even though he’s kept his Di name, kept his goals the same since escaping Di Fortress, and hasn’t tried to separate himself from his trauma the way LLH did with LXY, he’s even more willing than LLH to take on different identities: it’s literally one of his martial arts skills. The Bone Constriction Skill lets him become someone else for a time, whether that’s a child or Shi Hun. It fits well with his willingness to be whoever he needs to be to accomplish his goals: he’s perfectly willing to be seen as a heartless villain if it lets him protect LLH, and he’s willing to flirt with and pretend to be jealous of JLQ to get information from her, and he’s willing to be LLH’s a-Fei, both with and without his memories.

Interruptions in Consciousness (Amnesia and nightmares for Everyone): LLH and DFS both have nightmares and flashbacks/memories of traumatic events, and as mentioned above, both have interesting hints of having fragmented/fluid senses of self. They both also dissociate, or separate themselves from the present when dealing with traumatic things:  LLH spaces out and gets stuck in his past memories about SGD when talking to FDB after burying SGD, and DFS dissociates from physical pain so as not to make noise both after he’s been stabbed and poisoned with Wuxin Huai and again when JLQ is torturing him in her water dungeon.

They both also have dissociative amnesia that takes away trauma memories, although one is from a poisonous incense plus the magic of qi macgyvering:  LLH forgot the existence of his older brother who died in front of him, and DFS as a-Fei had just about all of his memories (except a few of killing as a child) taken away. Amnesia is a huge part of cPTSD, because it’s the brain’s way of trying to protect you from truths that you might not survive. It can manifest as blocking out one single traumatic event, a bunch of thematically or temporally linked traumatic events, a skill set related to the trauma, or, in the case of something like DID or OSDD, just about everything. It’s endlessly fascinating to me that the show gives us one example of definite traumatic amnesia through LLH, and then seems to almost transform the experience of having DID and being a new part and finding yourself with a new name and very little else into an exaggerated fantasy setting (interestingly, people often report experiencing debilitating headaches when they try to regain memories behind the amnesia barrier). I doubt this is what they were actually going for, since DID is almost universally portrayed incorrectly and offensively in media (one of the alters is almost always portrayed as a serial killer, but that’s a rant for another day), but the different names and the presence of amnesia with LLH made it a fascinating enough parallel that I had to mention it.

 Problems with Emotional Regulation (Lashing in vs. lashing out): Li Xiangyi and Di Feisheng are polar opposites when it comes to struggles with emotional regulation: whereas LXY turns his anger inward, directing it all toward self-hate in what’s often called a “toxic shame spiral,” both after the donghai battle and after he finds out about SGD’s role in his shifu’s death, DFS lashes out physically at those who have harmed him, usually via choking people, although he is usually exerting an impressive amount of control over his emotions and strength. To put in perspective just how different their emotional strategies are and how much effort DFS puts into emotional regulation, compare how much more calm he is than LLH during any revelation of past betrayal or painful information, any scene where they confront the people who have abused them, or any scene where they learn they’ve been wrong about something big; LLH is most likely having an emotional flashback (re-experiencing the emotions from the earlier traumas) and DFS is probably compartmentalizing them or dissociating from them to process later/never so he can stay semi-functional and not show a potential opponent a weak spot. 

NOTE: This means that DFS is loooong overdue for a very dramatic breakdown when it eventually all catches up to him and he can’t distract himself from it anymore.

Perceptions of Perpetrators: In this way only, Di Feisheng has one advantage: he knows the head of Di Fortress is a cruel, abusive tyrant. While he clearly still fears him, even as a physically strong adult (he has nightmares, flashbacks, and dedicates his life to being free from him, which means he still to some extent feels young, small, and helpless when he thinks of him), DFS knows that he hates him and wants to be free of him. This is probably part of why he’s spared some of the self-hatred LLH experiences: he knows he didn’t deserve the abuse because seeing it happen to other children means he knows the abuse wasn’t a personal reflection on him. It does, however, motivate him to want to be stronger and invulnerable so as to never be helpless again, and that obsession is what drives him to have a single-minded focus on reaching the pinnacle of the jianghu.  

It’s so much more complicated for Li Lianhua (and for a more detailed analysis, check out this meta): the childhood perpetrators were manifold–a slew of bandits, whichever children and adults on the street would abuse him for existing and being poor–it probably felt like life itself was to blame. It’s no wonder that when his shifu and shiniang took him in, they were the ultimate rescuers whom he hero-worshipped, so when he felt he made a mistake and his life fell apart, he blamed himself: at least there would be someone to blame that way and something he could do about it (try to kill his past self and hate everything about him). It’s also very telling that LLH doesn’t blame JLQ or YBQ all that much when he learns they poisoned him, and that he’s more angry that SGD murdered their shifu than he is that SGD set him up, hated him, and was the real mastermind behind everything he had blamed himself for; he struggles to stay angry at people who harm him, and would rather blame and hate himself for being tricked than hate the person who tricked him. So, whereas DFS tries to destroy the people who abused him, LLH tries to destroy himself.

If you read this far, thanks! I’m probably going to be posting the DFS and emotional regulation/violence against perpetrator meta next, because it’s drafted, but if there are any of these you desperately want me to talk about more sooner rather than later, let me know! :D 

[gorgynei]

ive been bit by the fanfic bug this is so weird. i feel like my brain has been rewired. you mean i can just put these guys in situations? of my own making? and write them out at length? interesting

[adachimoe]

Adachi's imaginary dick waving contest with Namatame

This is a revised version of a post I wrote very during the infancy of this blog. It is being split into smaller posts.

...I didn't intend to leave the name "Adachi's imaginary dick waving contest" but it was my one sentence draft and it stuck.

On a previous post, I talked about Adachi being the figure who shows up in the fog in the Central Shopping District on the dungeon deadlines, and how the dates he appears compared to when the first threatening letter shows up at the Dojima house would indicate that his claim about "watching an epic game of cat and mouse between the Investigation Team and Namatame" was bullshit. Chronologically impossible bullshit.

I propose that, instead of this, he was actually trying to screw over Namatame and ruin that dude's life.

Adachi's behaviors before the reveal

Aside from how Adachi is presented as not being wholly truthful during the December 7th dialogue, I think it's also worth pointing out that something doesn't add up about his "cat and mouse" claim when you look at his other behaviors.

After Mitsuo is rescued and brought into police custody, Adachi will appear at the Dojima house and bring up the possibility that the killer is still out there. He even does this again when Naoto turns up.

If you know he's the actual culprit, this might make it seem like he's taunting the player. I have also read an interpretation that he says these things because he wants to be caught, which from my understanding is based on the psychology of real world serial killers.

But while people bring these lines up, they fail to notice how after Namatame comes into the picture, Naoto finds Namatame's journal, reads out that Mayumi and Saki's addresses are in Namatame's journal, and then Adachi says, "that settles it".

If Adachi wants to be caught, why is he saying, "That settles it" in response to his murder victims addresses being in Namatame's journal?

He's even shown taking Namatame's case so seriously that Dojima thinks it's out of character for him as Adachi has been consistently characterized as a slacker up until now:

Furthermore, Namatame's transfer was foreshadowed. And if you follow the scenes, he was transferred because of the IT. In fact, the IT even knew about the transfer, they just didn't realize it.

On December 3rd, after the IT become the Seekers of Truth, they go outside Namatame's hospital room and talk about everything he just said. The IT are starting to believe that Namatame didn't do it, and Adachi overhears their entire conversation.

The IT returns on December 4th to question Namatame, and on their way out, an officer reveals that they are preparing to transfer Namatame. We know from December 5th that it's Adachi who orders the transfer, and it comes up on December 4th, the day after Adachi overhears the IT talking about Namatame not actually being the murderer. Hmm. What a coincidence.

I don't think anything with how Adachi approaches Namatame's hospital stay suggests "Adachi was trying to get caught" or "Adachi was trying to facilitate a game of cat and mouse" or even that "Adachi was bored and doing a little silly". The "game" of cat and mouse would be over at this point -- even if Namatame gets freed, why the hell would he go back to abducting people into TVs? Especially now that other people are aware of his actions?

Asking the "why"

At this point, I think it's worthwhile to start ask a bunch of obnoxious questions.

We know that Adachi is the real murderer, we know he nudged Namatame to go kidnap people under the guise of "saving" them, we know he put Kubo into the TV himself, and we know he sent the threatening letters. But for what reason?

If he's merely trying to get away with murder, why would Adachi throw Mitsuo into a TV to begin with instead of just letting him take the fall? Why, in the scenes discussed in the last part, is he openly talking about it being someone other than Mitsuo? Again, we can infer from his response to Namatame's journal that he is not trying to get himself caught.

We know he claims that he's watching a game between Namatame and the Investigation Team to alleviate his boredom. But if that's so, then why does he send the threatening letters to the Dojima house at all? People in the fandom explain this as him trying to rile up the Investigation Team. If he's understood what's been going on since the start and he was merely trying to rile them up, why does he wait to do so until after Naoto's dungeon? Wouldn't the time to rile them up be after they bring in Kubo, when they think they've won and think the case is over...?

I have also seen people explain this as, "Adachi just wanted to see more dead bodies". If Adachi wanted to see a dead body so badly, why not go chuck someone else into a TV himself? The only person he was willing to do this to, beyond his first two murders, was Mitsuo. And only after Mitsuo turned himself in, claiming to be the murderer. Not even in the bad endings where the calendar skips to March 20th does Adachi throw another body into the TV.

Furthermore, why does Adachi only shut up about a "real murderer" being out there after Namatame is captured, and rush to get Namatame relocated after people start asking him questions and figuring out he might not actually be the murderer?

Adachi claims to be bored, did it cause he could, watching a game unfold between Namatame and the IT. But doesn't Adachi's amusement go away if Namatame is jailed or dies and quits "saving" people?

Adachi's timeline leading up to December 5th, and how "Fuck Namatame" explains a lot of his actions

I think assuming that Adachi is being driven by a Namatame Hate Boner of sorts fills in a lot of the gaps and why he does and says certain things.

At the start, it's the part that's straightforward: Adachi kills Mayumi and Saki, takes Namatame's phone call, and recommends he "save" people.

Adachi says on April 17th that he knows people show up on fog nights. He then shows up on the April dungeon deadline expecting a body because he had told Namatame to go put a person in a TV. There is no body, and he goes "..." in the fog. Maybe Namatame got cold feet? Repeat for Kanji. There's no dead body. In the fog, Adachi asks, "Again?"

The police find Morooka's body. After two fog nights where no body appeared, Adachi thinks Namatame has finally killed someone. But Kubo turns himself in. This is not who Adachi wants to get arrested for the murders, so he gets rid of Kubo by throwing him into a TV.

The Investigation Team rescue Kubo and show Adachi that someone can be rescued from the TV. Chie makes a point of saying Adachi was there when they handed over Kubo, so Adachi both knows that Kubo is out of the TV, and that the IT might be related.

After Kubo is rescued, the police are going through with the investigation, but Adachi says, "Gee it sure would suck IF THE REAL KILLER WAS STILL OUT THERE..." because the guy he wants to get arrested, didn't get arrested.

Then Naoto goes missing. When Naoto returns, Adachi once more brings up the "real murderer" thing again when he's at the Dojima house. As Kubo's investigation carries on, it starts becoming obvious to the police that Kubo only killed Morooka, which Adachi also brings up during this convo.

On Naoto's deadline, Adachi appears in the shopping district at night. This time he says, "Dammit. Again?!" Last time, the IT showed him that a person *can* come out of the TV. Hmm... Kubo came out of the TV, and there's no body again this time... Is it possible that... Bodies have been going in... But coming out... This whole time...? :mind_blown_emoji:

The next fog night is coming up on November 20th. Adachi wants Namatame to produce a body, and he has guessed the IT are why he has failed to produce one yet. Adachi sends the threatening letters to the protagonist on October 20th and November 5th, hoping it will make you back off so Namatame can finally kill someone.

I imagine his game plan from April to November was to somehow get Namatame to kill someone, then get him arrested from this; perhaps a situation he thought he'd be able to manipulate on the police side if he knew who did it.

Later on November 5th, the Investigation Team all gather in the interrogation room and, in front of Adachi, explain that Namatame must have been abducting all of them with his delivery truck.

Naoto reads Namatame's diary which fortunately had both Mayumi and Saki's addresses in it. At this point, Adachi must think he's in the clear, and he goes, "That settles it". Everyone thinks Namatame did it and it's looking like he'll take the fall for Adachi's murders because of the addresses in the notebook.

At this point, I think Adachi began trying to get Namatame convicted for the murders of Mayumi and Saki. The notebook was a huge boon.

On November 21st, Adachi tells the IT that they can visit Nanako at the hospital. But before he leaves, he also tells them that they've been looking into Namatame, and he says, hey guess what? Namatame had been hitting on Saki. We know later that Namatame didn't actually do that, but Adachi is trying to keep up the narrative about Namatame.

On December 3rd, Adachi tells the IT he isn't sure if the charges against Namatame will stick, once again trying to keep up the narrative. When you think about it, even if Namatame were to die that night, it'd be assumed that he is the Inaba Serial Killer, and the truth about Adachi would never come to light. It almost works, even, but the protagonist gets everyone to calm down. Later on December 3rd, Adachi overhears the IT outside of Namatame's room and realizes they're starting to figure it out.

On December 4th, after the IT finish talking to Namatame, a uniformed police officer enters the room, tells them to get out, and says that Namatame is being prepared for transport. Meaning after realizing that the IT are still investigating after overhearing them on the 3rd, Adachi quickly organized Namatame's transfer before they can ask him more questions and figure something out.

And lastly, in the bad endings, where time skips from December to March, no more bodies have appeared because either Namatame is dead or on trial with people assuming he murdered Mayumi and Saki. If another dead body shows up, then it will call into question if Namatame is really the murderer.

But why Namatame?

Tbqh I think he was just jealous of Namatame's rizz.

Mayumi's death is portrayed as an accident. Adachi knew he could touch a TV, but he had no idea a whole body could go in, and threw up when he saw her corpse. Saki's death was 100% him being a power tripping asshole, having learned what happens with Mayumi. And both of these women, his victims, had someone in common: Namatame.

While this is not shown directly in the game, we can infer from context that Adachi saw Mayumi on the Midnight Channel at some point. And we know from Namatame's flashback that Mayumi did appear on there. What's more is that the rumor about the Midnight Channel was that you see your soulmate.

It seems likely that Adachi, new to Inaba and depressed / lonely / sad boi mode after being transferred, heard about the Midnight Channel (probably from Izanami), watched it, and saw Mayumi. What he didn't know was that everyone saw Mayumi - she was on people's minds because of her scandal. But he got something of a teenage girl hyperfixation on this real woman, thinking it was meant to be. And when he gets a chance to meet her, he does not react well to her and Namatame actually being an item.

Then, he goes after Saki, but he only targets her because of Namatame. He's shown in a flashback trying to force himself on her while mentioning that he saw her this afternoon with Namatame. She stands her ground and slaps him away, and he makes a face while saying that being with him is no-good but being Namatame is fine, huh?

Finally, Namatame himself calls the police and says he saw Mayumi and Saki on the Midnight Channel, they both turned up dead, and now he sees another girl.

I think Adachi's real game began here with this phone call. He's the real killer and he knows that people in the TV die and turn up on foggy nights. By telling Namatame to put them "somewhere safe", he is trying to get Namatame to accidentally kill someone.

And it's not just the Mayumi and Saki stuff. I think there are a couple other reasons why Adachi might be bitter about Namatame...

First, magic powers. What's unclear about the phone call scene is if Namatame told Adachi about Magic TV Powers. Namatame knew he could touch the TV because he did it when he saw Mayumi on the Midnight Channel. The game seems to have left this intentionally vague since the phone call only begins after Namatame has already explained everything to Adachi, but I think Namatame did say something about it. Adachi knew at the time that a whole body could go inside, and something about what Namatame said might have prompted Adachi to suggest Namatame put people where no one can find them.

Why does this matter? Well, Adachi seems to like his Special Power. How do you think he felt when he found out that he isn't very special, and that it sounds like Namatame can do the same thing?

The next one is related to something I wrote the other day about how Adachi's views towards having a government job might a product of the economic clusterfuck of 1990s Japan. Further down in the post, I went into each of the Investigation Team members, and how Chie is probably the only person who would be able to relate to Adachi in any form. Everyone else is either already famous, or, if their careers fail, they have their families to back them up.

But this doesn't just apply to the Investigation Team. Namatame is a government employee who loses his job due to the scandal... And yet he's still chuggin' along. He moves back home, and he gets a job working under his parents as a delivery driver. Adachi, to our knowledge, doesn't have something to fall back on or inherit from his parents if he loses this job. (I think this is implied by how his parents hounded him to study and sent him to college prep.) Not only did Namatame take his soulmate, but this fucker wasn't even completely ruined.

You can see his actions as like... He's trying to get Namatame to kill someone, he's trying to get Namatame framed for his own murders, he's trying to get the Investigation Team to kill Namatame. Adachi doesn't talk about Namatame much, honestly, but wowie I get the feeling that he really fucking hates this guy. Adachi is just so, so hilariously pathetic here. Like he thinks Namatame cucked him, so he's simultaneously comparing himself with Namatame and trying to ruin his life. Jesus dude.

tl;dr

I think Adachi has a raging hate boner for Namatame, spawning from him being Mayumi's boyfriend and his assumption that Saki was with Namatame

Namatame also having TV powers and Namatame being able to fall back on his parents probably added to the fuel

A lot of Adachi's actions seem to form a coherent timeline if you assume he was trying to get Namatame to kill someone at first, then later tries to get Namatame convicted for his own crimes after the diary is found

[vincess-princess]

we, the psychos

ch. 5

Word count: 2724 Warnings: violence A/N: i really am spoiling you with all those updates. gene simmons fans, i'm sorry, i needed a bad guy

Vince was suffocating.

Water in his lungs, water in his eyes, water in his nose. He couldn’t see, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t even scream – no sound came out, only bubbling. The coldness burned his skin; he grasped the handles of the chair, but couldn’t feel its wooden texture. And it went on, and on, and on, and the world was just cold and water-

And then it ended. The water trickled down his body and pooled at his feet. Vince opened his eyes, but still couldn’t see anything and for a second panicked. Then he realised it was just his hair covering his eyes. He shook his head to get it out of sight.

His eyes were hurting as they do after you open them underwater, and his vision hadn’t returned to him completely, so he could only see a figure in white coming up to him. But the voice was unmistakable.

“Well, Wharton,” nurse Simmons said, “enjoyed the shower?”

“Screw you,” Vince coughed out.

“Well, you’re the only one screwed here,” nurse Simmons responded cheerily. “You might want to be more polite if you don’t want another shower. And you don’t, do you?”

Vince didn’t answer. Nurse Simmons came close to him and squatted down in front of him so that their faces were on the same level. He smiled. It was all fun and games to him.

“Well?”

“Yes,” Vince croaked. He wanted to spit in Simmons’s face so bad, but that would not help his situation.

“That’s a good boy. Now, I’ll untie you, and don’t you try to pull anything.” Simmons unfastened the belts first on Vince’s legs, then on his wrists.

Vince stood up, stretched his shoulders. And when nurse Simmons turned his back on him to fetch a towel, Vince launched at him.

He jumped on nurse Simmons’ back and clasped his arms around his neck. Simmons staggered back and clutched at Vince’s arms, but Vince clung to him like a tick. Simmons was like a head taller than him and twice as wide in the shoulders, so direct assault would have Vince on the ground the very next moment. This – this gave him a chance. Not to kill Simmons, no. That would be too much. To cause him at least a sliver of the pain and discomfort he just caused Vince.

“Let go,” Simmons croaked. He tried to poke at Vince’s eye with one hand, but missed. Vince bit his finger, and Simmons yelped in pain. “I’ll fucking kill you!”

Vince’s arms began to hurt, so he enclasped Simmons’ body with his legs to give himself some propping. Simmons finally realised trying to reach the parasite on his back was useless and backed into the wall with all the speed he was capable of.

Vince hit the wall with his back so hard all the air went out of his lungs. His grip weakened, and Simmons managed to shove his hand in between his arms. Now that he could breathe again, Simmons began slamming his back into the wall until Vince released his grip and slid to the floor.

Simmons began kicking him in the ribs vehemently, shouting curses along with it. Vince covered his head and lay onto the floor in the pose of an embryo – that minimized the damage to vital organs. And now just to wait, just to endure until Simmons runs out of steam. Blows rained down his back and legs, some even came at the arms covering his face – the nurses usually tried not to hit in the face, but Simmons must have got too carried away.

In a distance, as though through fog, Vince heard another voice – a different nurse. Wonder if he stops Simmons or joins him?..

Then blows stopped.

Stradlin stood over Vince, looking at him with his typical indifference. Nothing ever touched him. Vince wished he could go through life like that – with a glass shield separating him and the world, so that he could see everything but not care about it. Stradlin never got angry, even when a patient was smearing shit all over his face, and barely ever smiled.

But at least he stopped Simmons.

“What’s that again?” he asked Simmons tiredly.

“The motherfucker tried to choke me!” Simmons said, rubbing his neck.

“Why’d you do that?” Stradling now said to Vince, not a change in his tone.

Vince moved his arms away from his face. The back of his palm was bleeding from Simmons’s sharp heel. He licked the blood off and smiled.

“He’s a dick.”

”And what do we do with him now?” Stradlin asked Simmons, losing interest to Vince.

“I’ll go ask Dr. Duren. I don’t even know what else can be done.” Simmons spit on the floor. “Would you mind watching him while I am away?”

“Alright.”

Simmons sent Vince the last hateful look and left. Stradlin picked up the towel that Simmons dropped when Vince attacked him and threw it at Vince.

“Wipe yourself up and dress.”

***

The man Duff delegated Tommy too surely was… peculiar. Long black hair that almost reached his waist that was unusually well-kept for a psycho streamed down his shoulders. Clear blue eyes looked at the world with wariness so old it was almost ingrained in them. His hospital robe was well-worn but clean, without a single wrinkle. This man hardly looked insane, and at first Tommy even doubted Duff told him the truth: how can be this man a patient? But then he looked at his fingers, and they were covered in wounds and scabs; the man kept picking at them absent-mindedly even as he and Duff spoke. Blood was under one of his nails. The man seemed not to notice.

“Bob, this is Tommy Lee. He just arrived to our asylum, so make sure his first impression is good!” Duff said with a smile. “Tommy, this is Bob Deal. He’s one of the oldies. Knows everything around here. He’ll show you around.”

“Hello,” Tommy said carefully to the man, hesitating whether he should offer him his hand. Then he decided to go for it – and the man looked at it like it was smeared with crap.

“Bob doesn’t shake hands,” Duff said apologetically. “He’s very… hygienic. Our laundresses’ favorite patient!”

“Ah, alright.” Well, what else could I expect.

“People used to show their hands to each other to prove they had no weapons. This is where hand-shaking comes from. You both can agree this is not needed in our situation,” the man spoke with a low, slightly hoarse voice. He must be a smoker. Were cigarettes allowed here?

“Well, you know, with some patients you wish they got in the habit of showing you their hands,” Duff laughed. “Not needed with you two, though, that’s true. Alright, I’ll be on my way. Please be back in twenty minutes, gents, or I’ll get into a big trouble. And keep out of nurse Simmons’ sight!”

“Don’t worry, boss,” Bob Deal said, made Tommy a lazy gesture to follow him and turned around. They went up the pathway circling the asylum.

“Hey, Bob. What’s so bad about nurse Simmons?” Tommy asked. Bob kept silent so long Tommy thought he was ignoring him. What did he do to earn such unfriendliness?

Then he stopped and turned to Tommy. “Two things,” he said. “First: don’t call me Bob. My name is Mick Mars. Nurses mustn’t know.”

“Mick Mars?” The name was more fit for a practicing performer than for a psych patient. Though… these were not too far apart. People of the arts were all a bit cooky. “Alright… And why nurses mustn’t know?”

“They will tell them.” Mick highlighted the last word with his voice. He looked at Tommy with grave seriousness. To laugh now would be to lose his favor for good.

“Oh. Them. Alright. And who are they?”

Mick didn’t answer, just put his finger to his mouth.

Well, if that was the asylum’s most reasonable fellow, Tommy feared to imagine what their worst case looked like. The blonde guy from the canteen? Or something worse?

They stood in silence until Tommy lost his patience.

“What’s the second thing?”

“Oh, yeah.” Mick’s tone switched to lazy casual so suddenly it gave Tommy a whiplash. “Nurse Simmons. Right. Well, he’s very good friends with Dr. Duren. And he tells him about everything he sees. And he usually sees things that we’d rather Dr. Duren didn’t know about.”

“A snitch,” Tommy concluded.

“You could say that.” Mick turned around and continued his path. He was surprisingly fast for a short man that he was - his head barely reached Tommy’s shoulder.

They went up the path and reached the asylum building.

“Alright. This,” Mick waved vaguely in the air, “is out beloved Feelgood Asylum. You feelin’ good here already?”

Tommy snorted. Mick clearly liked that.

“Our beloved asylum contains about seventy patients, give or take. About twenty nurses and then the director, Dr. Duren. He’s the one who’s gonna diagnose you and prescribe you stuff and all. Sometimes he requests help from other doctors when the case is tough, but usually he does it all himself.”

“And what kind of case is so tough Dr. Duren can’t crack it?” Tommy’s father spoke of him with much respect, even reverence. Dr. Duren also treated Tommy’s uncle, and, as far as he knew, successfully. Tommy never met him, but father said he was living peacefully in the Yorkshire countryside. If your treatment goes well, you can join him there, father used to say. That was before Tommy’s psychosis revealed itself, though.

“I think you’ve already met him,” Mick said, looking pointedly at Tommy’s cheek. Tommy couldn’t help but touch the bruise the blonde guy left him. It hurt a bit, and the cheekbone began to swell, but overall Tommy felt pretty good about the fight. He didn’t back off and stood up to himself.

“You saw the fight too?”

“No. But everyone had heard about that already. You did the right thing. Wharton had it coming.”

“He really is… something else.” Tommy recalled the inhuman shriek and shuddered. “Is he always like that?”

“Usually not. But he’s had a bad spell for a couple weeks. Spent almost all of them in a padded cell. Guess that makes a person a little bit… mad.”

Tommy snorted again. Well, at least this old man was fun.

“And what was the consensus on him?”

“I don’t know, but if I were those doctors, I’d say: pour more cold water on the bastard. He surely needs to cool down.” Mick started walking again, and Tommy followed him. “The problem is, he hurts other inmates. Some complain of sexual assault. Some… well, don’t react well to his antics. My advice is: keep away.”

“Alright,” Tommy said. What he saw and heard of Wharton convinced him this was rather sound advice. He only wished Wharton would also keep away from him. For some reason, Tommy doubted it. People like him tended to be pretty vindictive.

“Now, the asylum itself is Building A. Nurses live there – in Building B.” Mick waved at a smaller building a little bit farther away. It was connected with the asylum by a corridor. “We’re pretty far in the countryside, and they can’t commute here from London every day.”

“Looks much newer than the asylum.”

“Because it is. When asylum housed less people, nurses lived in the same building, just in a different wing. Good times those were. Peaceful.”

“You were there already?” Tommy stared at Mick. He didn’t look that old – in his forties, maybe. How long had he spent in the asylum?

“You heard Michael – I’m one of the oldies,” Mick huffed. He looked clearly displeased, and Tommy decided to drop the topic.

“And then the world went crazy, and people went crazy, and the asylum had to take in more and more patients. And now we’re all cramped in here, two, three in a ward… I heard you’ve got it rather fancy?”

“What, the ward?” Tommy clarified. “Fancy” was the last word he could come up with to describe it. But other patients probably didn’t have even that. “Well… the curtains are full of holes and the carpet needs washing, and I’m pretty sure someone bled on my mattress, but otherwise yeah, you could say it’s fancy.”

“Oh-oh, look at him, he’s got holes in his curtains!” Mick teased. “Spoiled little brat, you are. Why aren’t you wearing a robe like us peasants, anyway?”

“Du- Michael said there’s none in my size.”

“Well,” Mick looked him over critically, “your size is probably hard to match, that’s true. But don’t you worry – they’ll dress you up like the rest of us.”

“Oh no,” Tommy moaned. “These look just horrible.”

“You’re in an asylum,” Mick reminded sternly. ”It’s not a beauty pageant.”

“Maybe that’s why you all are crazy here,” Tommy grumbled. “Humans need beauty to live.”

“Humans need food, water and air to live. Everything else is secondary.” Mick waved his hand and headed up the path.

“Now, that’s the laundromat and that’s the kitchen. You might be assigned laundry or kitchen duty some time – if you’re normal around knives, of course.”

At home Tommy was forbidden from going to the kitchen after a maid discovered four knives under his pillow and two in the pockets of his coat. He decided not to tell Mick that, but the old man with his piercing gaze probably saw something anyway.

“So do the patients do all the work around here?”

“Well, not all. There are cooks and laundresses and cleaners. But there are too few of them to service all the patients, so yeah – we have to help ourselves.”

“And why don’t just hire more people?”

Mick stopped dead in his tracks, looked at Tommy, saw he was serious and erupted into laughter.

“Oh, sweet innocence! You do know that services cost money, right?”

“Of course,” Tommy pouted, crossing his arms on his chest in a defensive gesture. “It’s just… doesn’t the asylum have sponsors?”

“Sure it does. But sponsors are also not bottomless moneybags. And they, unlike patients, haven’t doubled in numbers in recent decades.”

“Oh.” Tommy’s father was one of the sponsors, and he never mentioned the asylum was underfunded. And Tommy’s father had no problem with money. Couldn’t he invest even a little in the place he sent his son to?

“Yeah. So that’s why we have to work. Dr. Duren says, of course, that labor humanizes and ennobles, but we all know that’s just an excuse.”

Tommy imagined himself mopping a bathroom floor and shuddered. Working like a servant, getting all sweaty and dirty, fumbling with psychos’ dirty underwear or washing the dishes – horrible, horrible! Maybe his privileged status would also absolve him of all this labor? He was already noble enough.

Duff would probably tell him to get off his high horse, and as much as Tommy liked him, that attitude irritated him. They all may be psychos here, but even among psychos there is variation. He needed to ask Dr. Duren about it. He was friends with Tommy’s father, surely he would cut Tommy some slack?

“And you sure need to learn what real labor is like. You look like you haven’t washed a dish in your life,” Mick added ruthlessly.

Well, he was not wrong. Tommy was used to considering that a reason for pride, but somehow the only thing he now felt was shame. And then – anger. How dares this lunatic shame him?

He just opened his mouth to express his resentment when Mick frowned, staring at the nurses’ dormitory, and then quietly cursed.

“Damn it. Nurse Simmons! He can’t see us!”

Tommy followed the path of his gaze and saw the nurse from the canteen. Even at this distance he instilled some primal fear in Tommy. Especially now, when he was walking in big strides, his hands were clenched into fists, and his coat half-soaked in water.

Mick dashed to the nearest tree and hid behind the trunk. From there he gestured to Tommy to hide behind another tree, which he did.

They watched the nurse enter the building, and even from their spots could hear the bang he slammed the door with.

“Hm. Someone got him real mad.” Mick scratched his stubbly chin. “We better go back to other patients.”

[whirlwindimagines]

Can you do a plant/flower shop au vash x reader where he's in charge of the shop and the reader is a customer and becomes a regular and they finally start dating?

I love this! Like can you imagine Vash owning a little flower shop so cute! I’m also a massive sucker for flower language lol but I apologize if it's not super accurate. Also, it's babygirl’s birthday, and well since we saw how his last birthday went! Here is some fluff <3 So happy birthday to my favorite man! Also, requests are open for anything, please send some in! (warning corny af writing below this is like 2700 words of fluff)

‘I was enchanted to meet you’

Vash x Reader (Modern AU)

It starts with an impulse, you were having a terrible day, honestly, you were on the verge of tears and you just needed a little pick me up. Just to add insult to injury you had been caught out in the rain, you were soaking wet and miserable when you passed the little flower shop, you decided screw it! you deserved some nice flowers… and to get out of this weather.

So, without a second thought, you enter the small shop, a bell overhead going off as you do so. It's a charming little shop really, lots of different types of flowers and everything looks so green and fresh. You only feel a little bad about getting the floor all wet, but like plants need water, right? So, it was okay…surly.

“Hi! Can I help you?” a kind voice calls out, and it makes you jump you were so lost in thought that you weren't even thinking of anyone else being here. Turning around surprised to catch the very blue eyes of a guy who gives you a sheepish look, he's a cute, tall blonde, with large circle glasses sitting on his face and he’s wearing an apron, ah he must work here…duh! “Oh sorry, you caught me a little off guard.” You say with a soft laugh, Gee way to embarrass yourself in front of a cute guy! 

He doesn’t seem to notice your embarrassment or at least he kindly doesn’t point it out. He also doesn’t point out the puddle under you, he seems a little taken aback by your presence. He was probably shocked that anyone had been out in this weather, wait… he asked you a question. “Oh um, I was just…” you trail off like an idiot, a little lost in the blue of his eyes

“Wanting some flowers?” he says with an easy smile, God you must look like an idiot. Why else would you be in here? Today was just not your day, and this guy was being so nice to you! That was probably his job, but you were just one minor inconvenience from losing it. Your eyes drift to the name tag on his apron, Vash…

When you don't answer, Vash looks you over and notices well just how sad you look. “Here, wait by the counter, I’ll be right back!” he calls out, not giving you a second to reply as he disappeared down the aisle of bright flowers. With a sigh, you follow his instructions leaning against the counter, you’ve already made such a fool of yourself, maybe you should just leave. 

But you don't, maybe you are a little curious, and well it is still raining. Vash returns shortly after he told you to wait, he's holding a group of flowers together, they were pretty yellows, pinks, and whites some you recognized like the very obvious Sunflower. It was still very pretty, but now you are just a little confused you didn’t even get a chance to look at the flowers in the store. 

He gives you another sheepish look, as he wraps the flowers into a bouquet and hands it to you. “Sorry… it's just you didn't seem to know what you want so I picked these out for you!” You can see just the hint of pink on his cheeks, the flowers are lovely. “What are they? I mean the flowers what are they called,” you ask, finding the gesture really… nice.

And the way his face lights up when you ask, well it was worth coming in here alright. “Oh! Well, these are Sunflowers, and then these are daisies and Snapdragons with some filler greenery.” As he talks, he points to each flower excitedly telling you a little fact about them, his voice is really nice and he clearly knows his stuff. He looks embarrassed after a while to be rambling on so much, he rubs the back of his head “Sorry… I didn't mean to ramble. I’m Vash I own the shop!” 

Giving him a kind smile, you take the bouquet from him, it's lovely and simply just filled with life the opposite of the dreary attitude outside and the mood you were in when you first walked in, you tell him your own name before continuing to speak “I don’t mind, you really know a lot! How much do I owe you for these.” how could you not accept them, when he went through all the trouble, to select them just for you!

“They’re on the house.” He says kindly, and you can only look at him blankly, because why? “I can pay! I want to pay these are so nice and you went through all the trouble of picking them out!” You start to ramble a little flustered by the whole ordeal. Yeah, it was his job to provide flowers, but when was the last time a cute person had gifted your flowers? 

Vash just laughs softly; it’s a nice sound and he is clearly not mocking you or anything it’s just a friendly chuckle as he puts his hands up in defense. “Really have them! They made you smile and that’s enough payment for me” Vash goes red at his words and at how cheesy they sound he starts stuttering an apology and backtracking, but now it’s your turn to laugh. 

“Alright, thank you.” It really is a sweet gesture and honestly, it did make you smile after the day you had. You’ll have to come back and actually buy some flowers. The two of you continue to chat for a bit as the rain continues outside, he must notice your reluctance to leave back into the rain. 

To your surprise again, Vash hands you an umbrella telling you that you’ll just have to bring it back the next time you visit, he says this with such a sweet smile you can’t refuse. Accepting the umbrella with a thank you and a shy smile, you leave flowers in hand promising you’ll be back. During your walk home, you can’t get rid of the smile on your face.

You do come back, giving it a week or so to return the umbrella to Vash and to pick out some flowers. But it’s a little overwhelming, so many choices. “Need some help?” You don’t know how he manages to sneak up on you so easily, “actually yeah, I’m a little clueless when it comes to this… do you think you could pick some out for me? And I’m paying this time!” You add on quickly at the end, as Vash laughs. 

“Okay give me a second” and with one last look, he heads off in search of the perfect flowers for you, as you wait excitedly by the counter. You certainly could pick out flowers for yourself, but the bouquet he picked for you last time was so lovely that you just knew he would do a better job than you ever could. 

Vash returns with a colorful bouquet in hand, your eyes light up at the display eagerly asking about each flower, he points out the calla lilies, a white camellia, and some yellow tulips. Vash goes over each flower telling you about them, it’s nice you like listening to him ramble. The flowers as always are beautiful. 

“You know each flower is supposed to have a special meaning attached to it,” Vash says offhandedly as he puts the bouquet together for you, and that makes you even more interested, but before you can ask what the flowers, he picked for you mean you realize the time and you have to leave. You make sure to pay for the flowers, tell him goodbye, and thank you before you are off. 

After this you become a bit of a regular to the small flower shop, at this point the moment Vash sees you he knows to just pick out some flowers for you. And you love it, the special care he takes in selecting each flower, how pretty the bouquet looks, and the shy smile he gives you each time he hands it over. 

You also love to listen to talk about flowers, you ask more questions now instead of it just being a one-sided conversation and Vash is more than happy to answer any questions you have. Maybe you're going too often, but you like talking to Vash he’s so cute and nice! And it’s probably just his job to be nice to you. But you are starting to develop a crush, and it's embarrassing! It must be so obvious; you're probably making things awkward. Again, it's his job to be nice to you! You are just looking into things too deeply…unless you're not? You’ve seen Vash help other customers he's friendly of course! That’s just who he is, but it's not the same. Ugh, maybe you are looking into this too deeply. 

As you continue to visit the shop, you notice some more slight changes, maybe you are being bolder more obvious, and Vash seems to be flirting with you. It makes your heart race every time. The familiar bell dings overhead again as you enter, Vash is behind the counter helping another customer he looks up and gives you a smile before continuing to help the other person. Returning his smile, you browse the flowers. Reading the little note cards by each flower makes you remember something Vash said about flowers having meanings, maybe you’ll look up some later. 

A gentle call of your name makes you turn with a smile, Vash looks a little tired, his hair messier than usual he looks like he even has some dirt on his cheek, but he’s got that big smile on his face that he seems to reserve just for you. “You couldn't come at a better time! I just got a fresh shipment. Let me put something together for you!” you can’t refuse that, “Thanks Vash, I know whatever you pick out will be as wonderful as always.” the praise makes his eyes light up. 

Instead of waiting at the counter, you follow Vash watching him pick out each flower with care and telling you the name of each one, but you notice he never tells you what they mean. A couple of pink roses, light red carnations, a bundle of colored peonies, and even some lovely irises. You want to ask what they mean, but for some reason, you don't. Not wanting to break the spell that you too seem to be under. “Peonies are pretty rare, but they are in season and I thought you might like them,” Vash says softly.

Impulsively you reach out toward his face as he turns towards you, cupping his cheek and using your thumb to brush the dirt off his face. His face turns bright red, and you are sure you look just as flustered. Quickly retracting your hand, “Um sorry! The flowers are really nice, let me buy them right!” you manage to say this without stuttering as you turn and make your way towards the counter, God you are an idiot

Waiting at the counter and trying not to die from embarrassment, Vash eventually joins you still looking a little flustered. The two of you stand there quietly as Vash rings up the flowers for you, thanking him softly and hoping not to come off as too awkward you say your goodbyes and head home. The whole walk you can’t help but clutch the flowers to your chest, hoping you didn't ruin everything. 

It's late and you should be asleep, but your mind is still racing. With a sigh, you head into the kitchen for a drink when you see the bouquet sitting on the table. It makes you feel warm, and slightly curious Vash had seemed so excited about putting this set together for you… pulling out your phone you begin to search for what each flower means. And each search makes you blush more and more. 

Pink roses can mean blossoming romantic feelings 

Light red carnations can mean admiration and adoration

Peonies can mean romance and shyness 

And lastly, irises can mean courage 

You have to sit down for a second, you hope you're not giving this more meaning than it actually has. But Vash is the expert why would he purposely put this together for you if he had not meant…this? Did he return your feelings, looking at the flowers you feel determined and come up with a plan, you are either going to look like an idiot and you can never show Vash your face again… or the better outcome is you’ll get a date with the cutest guy you’ve ever seen!

No longer tired, you spend the rest of the night researching flowers. You just hope you don't mess this up…

You couldn't wait a day longer when you enter the store again, maybe you should have waited a couple of days, but you are scared that if you don't act now, you never will. Vash is busy with another customer; he looks up a little surprised but gives you that easy smile. It seems like he’ll be busy for a while, the customer seems very demanding. Perfect it’ll give you time to gather the flowers you need. 

You think you have what you need, holing the flowers carefully in your hands you head to the counter. Vash looks a little surprised, “I know you like to… pick the flowers out for me but I really needed these ones today!” you tell him quickly as his look of surprise turns to amusement, “Sure here let me see them.” You pass them to him, and for a second you see him frown as he looks over each flower. Before his face becomes neutral, and he begins to ring them up for you.  

Delphiniums, Gladiolus, some Stock flowers, and lastly some Lavender roses. You doubt it's a pretty selection of flowers, but they express what you want to say to him. Opening your heart, sincerity, affection, and enchantment. “This is quite a selection you picked out…” Vash says quietly, and when he hands them to you. You hand them right back. 

“These are actually for you.” 

Vash looks at you wide eye as he takes the flowers from your hands, he stares at you and you start to lose your courage here, “I looked up the meaning of the flowers you gave me yesterday and maybe I'm reading too into this… but I spent the whole night researching flowers on how to return those feelings if that’s what you even meant.” You ramble painfully, as Vash continues to just not say anything at all, oh you really done it now! 

He laughs and makes you tense up. He looks at the flowers with a bright smile and continues to laugh he sees the look on your face and reaches out taking your hand in his. “I'm not laughing at you, it's just… I've never been gifted flowers before!” You stare at him blankly… and then blush you literally just bought flowers from his shop and gave them to him to confess. Of course, he’s never got gifted flowers before! He owns a flower shop; you are so dumb. 

“Don’t worry it's really sweet, I love them! And what they mean…” Vash says kindly squeezing your hand, “Um but yeah, the flowers yesterday were a confession of sorts… I was just too much of a coward to actually tell you.” Vash says with a slight laugh and a blush high on his cheeks. It makes you feel better, that Vash is just as nervous about the whole thing as you, it makes you smile and squeeze his hand back. 

“Well, I like you too…and I was hoping, we could go on a date? Start seeing each other more?” You tell him, he smiles letting go of your hand to take one of the lavender roses out of the bouquet and leaning forward to tuck it behind your ear. “That would be really nice, and I was enchanted to meet you too by the way,” Vash says pointing to the lavender rose, he gives you a cheeky smile as you blush. It was so worth it to stop into this little flower shop, you knew you managed to walk out with more than just flowers.     

[four-for-fidelity]

i am GOING to finish this chapter before i go on vacation. i WILL do it. i have ONE week............

[curioushabitforarivergod]

Harry Potter and the Case of Scotland, An Essay

Or; Scotland is independant, Hogwarts is a completely fucked up and the witches are dying by the dozen. 2700+ words.

Anyone who knows an inkling of British politics or history understands the tension between Scotland and England, an underlying issue that dates back to at least the Roman Conquest. Scotland is more progressive than England, with a strong focus on transgender issues, much to JKs fury. More than that, every council in Scotland saw "remain" majorities with Brexit, as compared to England and Wales. An independent Scotland is not far from the realms of possibility, although in Harry Potter, it seems Scotland has always been independent.

It's odd to imagine this. From what we've come to understand of the Wizarding World, magical boundaries and borders follow muggle ones. We see references to individual countries, including Bulgaria, France, and of course Albania. Ireland also features prominently, although it's not clear how seperate the country is — the Troubles is certainly a prominent part of Harry Potter, inspiring Voldemort's actions and also characterising Seamus, the only prominent canonical Irish character as a pyromaniac. Yet, conversely the clues about Scotland and the truth are hard to find.

When looking at Fantastic Beasts — the fake, graffitied textbook, not the movie — I found something odd. Scotland seems to be a seperate entity from the rest of the Ministry of Magic, or at least what counts as a 'country' within the sense of the Wizarding World. It's not explicit by any means, rather it's more implicit, but it piqued my interest and inspired this essay.

The International Confederation of Wizards has had to fine certain nations repeatedly for contravening Clause 73. Tibet and Scotland are two of the most persistent offenders. (Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, 2001. pg. xvii.)

I highlight here "nation" and "Scotland".

Note: I'm ignoring Tibet as the book is meta and supposedly written in the 1920s-30s by Newt Scamander. Tibet existed as a country during this time.

Scotland is not a nation. It has not really been a nation since 1603 when James the VI of Scotland became James the I of England, although this wasn't really premeditated. Also, the two crowns, although united in the Stuart family, weren't really the same country. At least not in the way we understand it today. It wasn't until 1707 when Scotland and England were legally unified beyond just sharing a king.

The Statue of Secrecy, however, was signed in 1689, during this odd time where Scotland was joined by crowns but not by law. I wonder then, how possible it would be for Scottish wizards to have expressed the same disdain for the English and refused to join with England.

As I will discuss later, it makes sense with Scotland's population and history. Additionally, we know that schools in the Wizarding World transcend our own borders — Beuaxbaton seems to take French, Swiss, Belgium students, and I imagine (based on the bad world building) would take most of Western Europe. Similarly, Durmstrung takes students from most of Eastern Europe. This does make sense in some ways — WWI and WWII dramatically altered the borders of Europe. Scotland could easily take students from the rest of Britain, even if it itself is not a nation within the UK and is its own seperate entity.

Further, time and time again, we see that the Ministry has little no influence over what actually occurs within Hogwarts, with the exception of Umbridge. There is no set curriculum by teachers — each teacher is very different and teaches what they want, which we see both with Hagrid and the multitude of DADA professors. This makes little sense; within a state school, or a school that has government involvement, you would expect some centralisation of what should be taught in schools. Even private schools have some sort of organisation along this basis, though I will be discussing more of this later.

Additionally, the Ministry have no role in appointing people for jobs or firing people within Hogwarts — Dumbledore is not removed from power until after he has broken a law against the ministry, which makes him appear to be the result of long-armed jurisdiction. Umbridge's power then, comes not just from the ministry, but from being an international agent, likely granted under something similar to an extradition treaty by the Scottish government.

Researching online showed nothing else, but I think from conjecture we can say that Scotland is independent, based too on its real life history (which is something I'll explore momentarily). This being the case, and its close proximity to England plus (largely) shared history, I imagine Scotland has a system similar to the rest of the UK, if more feudal.

It's likely Scotland's government is an oligarchy, run by barons and old families. There is only one name within the Sacred 28 which has Scottish origins, which could suggest the Macmillan's had a monopoly over this, but also could be simply Cantankerous Nott's bias or the Macmillians being the only 'pure' family from Scotland to marry into Sacred 28.

We do know that the Ross's (McGonagall's maternal family) were pureblood and McGonagall's mother eloped with a muggle. I think they would've been a fairly important family in Scotland's oligarchy as Ross is an area of Scotland. Following this logic, there should be other old families which take their name from the land (or vice verse) — Fife, Moray, Kinross, Selkirk, etc. — though none of these are characters last names canonically.

The Buchanan's are also a Pureblood family, and quite Purist. They're mentioned on Pottermore and one of the sons, Angus Buchanan was a squib who, after being kicked out, became a Scottish rugby player, inspired by the real Angus Buchanan and wrote a book about being a squib. Apparently he's the reason every wizard canonically supports the Scottish rugby team.

Finally, I'll suggest the Dale family as Pureblood and potentially part of this oligarchy. They're from Hogwarts Legacy and one of their members cursed the family tomb (located near Hogwarts) around 1300, but their family continues until the late 19th century at least. A family that has the money to build a tomb, the means to curse it and the ability/need to maintain their family name for so long is likely Pureblood.

There are other Scottish families, or ones that could be attributed to Scotland, but these had the strongest bases within known material and fell into at least three of the following categories.

Pureblood

Old families/family names

Monetary means

Obsessed with blood purity

More than a paragraph about them on the Harry Potter Wiki

Of course none of this is definite and delves into the realm of headcanons and OCs, but I'd recommend these as a starting point if someone were to ever write something based on this. I'd also recommend looking at Macbeth for character names.

The Tragedie of Macbeth was written in 1606 for King James I and VI of England and Scotland. It's one of Shakespeare's most famous plays (and my favourite), and is so ingrained within Western culture today — rules about not saying its name in the theatre, a self-fulfilled prophecy, double double toil and trouble, and of course the three witches — and these things all inspire the Wizarding World too, with the last three manifesting throughout the books and movies.

James was obsessed with witches — that's why Shakespeare wrote Macbeth for him (and also as a way to comment about the tyranny James was imposing on England; good stories are cultural critiques as well as being entertaining). In 1597, King James had written Daemonologie, a philosophical dissertation on witches, necromancy, black magic and demons. He advocated strongly for witch trials. Of course, Malleus Maleficarum, written in Germany, 1486, had also advocated for the same things.

Scotland is heavily associated with witchcraft — buidseachd in the original Scots Gaelic — for these things. It was also a place of comparatively high witch trials in comparison to England, with an estimated 4000-6000 people tried and more than 1500 executed (roughly 75% of them were women). These numbers were also 4 times the European average. While the more reported trials occurred during the period between the crowns inheritance and legal unification of Scotland and England, they were established widely before this too. Additionally, there was a entire entity of the Scottish Kirk which set up kirk sessions (elected officials of churches in charge of determining whether a person was guilty) as early as 1560 in some places, with legal introductions in 1597 — England did not have these sorts of things.

With the intense conditions of the period, it is likely wixen in Scotland were driven into hiding before their English counterparts, thus allowing for the distancing between the muggle and the wizarding world perhaps even before the two crowns united in 1603, as discussed in the previous section. This being the case, I would determine that Scotland, as a result of the rising tensions between the witchcraft and the muggle world enforced their own statue of secrecy and divided from the government between 1597 and 1603.

However, I think the majority of these issues stem too from the establishment of Hogwarts and the problems it faces in regards to world building. Canonically Hogwarts does exist with Scotland, which makes perfect sense when it comes to isolation, but the model is historically flawed in more ways than one.

According to Pottermore, Hogwarts was founded "at some point in the tenth century… concealed with numerous charms and spells to make it impossible for Muggles to trespass," the most notable being "any passing Muggle would only see ruins." Historically, this is impossible.

Castles as we understand them were only just beginning to make their appearances in mainland Europe in the late 10th century. Previously, they had been wooden structures, but even these 10th century stone structures are nowhere near the fairytale castles that pop-culture depicts. They were motte-and-bailey designs that were continued in some places until the 13th century, and were more concerned with fortification and intimidation than beauty. They looked a lot like this:

The motte was a huge pile of earth, incredibly steep and offered protection as guardhouses were built on top. The bailey was where people lived, worked and stored food. They were surrounded, often by high wooden posts and earthworks, whose ditches could sometimes act as moats when it flooded, although were just as difficult to invade when dry. They were easy to defend as they only had one entrance and most of the buildings inside would've been wooden, though stone buildings on the motte were not uncommon. There are many surviving examples and ruins around France and England. Herein lies several problems.

Firstly, these motte-and-bailey's originated in France during the early medieval period and were introduced to England following the Norman invasion in 1066. Any construction of these buildings in England would've been limited to the 11th and 12th centuries largely, as prior to the Norman invasion, the Anglo-Saxons followed more German and Norse traditions of large thatched halls.

You may have noted that I fail to mention Scotland in this discussion of early castles. This is because castles were nonexistent in Scotland until King David I brought them back from England and adopted them and feudalism in the 12th century. The earliest known castle in Scotland is Castle Sween built in 1100, about two centuries after Hogwarts was supposedly built. Only the ruins and earthworks remain, and it's believed the towers were later additions.

What might be noticeable is how little it looks like Hogwarts. Early medieval castles — in actuality most medieval castles — were stone walls which housed interior wooden buildings which have since been destroyed by any number of things. They were not the fairytale structures that come to mind in association with the word "castle". Those were a later constructions of the Georgian and Victorian periods from the 18th century onwards. Instead of being fortresses like medieval castles, they were homes of luxury.

Put simply, Hogwarts does not make historical sense in its construction or portrayal. Unless it was adapted and improved upon as time went on (which is unlikely and infeasible) Hogwarts should be nothing more than rotted huts. There's more to say on the poor grasp of history (I could go on about Merlin or the founders), but Hogwarts continues to bother me in the modern world too.

We return again to government and our question of whether Hogwarts is a government school or a private one. Although the wizarding world is deeply capitalist, with the common assumption being that students pay a yearly fee to attend within fics, I doubt this. There is never any mention of this within the books, and logistically it doesn't make sense. How do muggleborns pay? How do wizarding families like the Weasley's pay? If there had been some kind of transaction, we would've seen it in the books given they're told from Harry's experience. Alternatively, acting on the assumption that Scotland is it's own nation within the wizarding world brings up similar issues regarding the standardisation of schooling as I discussed earlier — there is little to none. For these reasons, I don't think Hogwarts is a government school either.

Returning once more to history, I think Hogwarts takes its education system from the charity schools which populated the UK for a large portion of its history until national-run schools opened in the 19th century. Their goal was to provide some education to the small towns where they were established but there was no standardisation of them across the UK. With the historical context in regards to the split from the muggle world in the 16th/17th century and the stagnation of wizarding government since then, it makes perfect sense for Hogwarts to act as a charity school, especially as according to Pottermore it was originally constructed to hide wizards who were "being persecuted by muggles."

This also makes sense if we take into account O.W.Ls and N.E.W.Ts, which act as standardised tests for an unstandardised system. I think these were developed sometime in the 20th century to act as a qualification, particularly as the muggle world was becoming more bureaucratic and the wizarding one was failing to match up. It's likely it was an effort by the ICW rather than an individual nation, although other countries call them different things.

O.W.Ls and N.E.W.Ts in themselves suggest other schools similar to Hogwarts or homeschooling. This isn't completely out of line with what appears in canon either. Although the Gaunts are largely squibs by the mid-20th century, they still do possess some magic. For all his faults Marvolo would have taught both Merope and Morfin. Using this, we can ascertain that school-aged students are not required to go to Hogwarts. We can also deduce this from the fact that the trace is added onto wands after the first year at Hogwarts, as Hermione mentions all the spells have worked for her when trying them at home before Hogwarts. As such, it's a safety measure implemented by Hogwarts, fulfilling its original purpose as a place of protection, acting as a charity school for those who have no other options or for those who simply want to attend.

Hogwarts as a charity school acts simply. It is funded by a board, ideally a board that is not elected but instead based off inheritance and nepotism, with families like the Malfoys having funded it for generations (which would explain Lucius' attendance of school quidditch games). While examiners do enter Hogwarts for O.W.Ls and N.E.W.Ts, this is only done as it's the biggest school in the region. Students at Hogwarts, at other wizarding schools, or through home-schooling and their parents education can also complete self-study (including of subjects not offered at Hogwarts) and complete their O.W.Ls or N.E.W.Ts at any ICW approved governing body, which includes Scotland's ministry, however that might manifest.

I don't think I can offer any conclusion to this, and for now my ideas are exhausted. I think I'm more poking at holes with a stick and making them bigger, but I wanted some way to record everything and work through issues and interesting things. Much of this developed and grew as I was writing — this began as only a discussion of whether Scotland was a nation within HP. If I've forgotten anything or piqued any interests my asks are open.

[preromantics]

(had to google common kinks because my brain is dead lol sorry)

But

Starker + voyeurism?

Or

Starker + anonymous sex

Oooh let’s try anonymous (errr kinda I took it to a glory hole place)!

-

It started as a joke. It was definitely a joke.

Someone — Peter can’t even remember, because Thor and Bruce had reverse engineered some long lost Asgardian hard liquor and gotten every person in the compound, enhanced metabolism to Actual God to regular human totally shitfaced — someone had complained about the lack of sexual partner options available to bonafide superheroes.

Peter is 97% sure he did not make the original complaint, but less sure if he privately or verbally agreed with the overall sentiment.

Anyway, someone had complained.

Tony, who fell on the human spectrum of easily-shitfaced-from-Asgardian-jet-fuel but also on the unfortunately superhuman liver side, had indulged his one social drink and promptly disappeared to the lab.

A few hours later, the assorted and still standing heroes of Earth had been led on a little drunken excursion by Tony to the compound sublevels. The group arranged a wobbly and cheerful single-file line ordered by height and wove through the gym and past the boxing rings to the locker room style communal showers.

Peter, who did not have the advantage of height compared to the collection of his coworkers (friends?) who were still standing, had been one of the last to see what all the parading had been about.

The last shower stall had been partitioned into two, with shiny new floor to ceiling doors.

The new middle partition — proudly gestured to by Tony in his best Vanna White impression — sported a single hole in the wall.

“This dial here can adjust the size to your… needs,” Tony was saying, giving a practical demonstration of the lever that opened and closed the hole like the aperture function of a camera lens.

Peter would’ve taken notes, but the rush of the alcohol and the implications and the Tony of it all caught up and deafened him with white noise.

—

So, it was a joke. 30 or so assorted superheroes, Avengers and otherwise, knew that a gloryhole existed in the communal showers on level B8 of the compound.

Theoretically, any of them could use it.

Peter wondered obsessively if anyone had tried it, joke or not.

He found himself lingering after a hard workout or training session, eyes closed under the spray of one of the normal shower stalls, and senses on high alert for the echoey pad of footsteps to the end of the room.

Eventually his curiosity graduated and he found himself walking down to the partitioned and private stalls, too. Ostensively just to look. Just to see if one door was closed and not the other. Just to see if anyone might be paying attention and follow him down.

Not that Peter would use the hole with anyone. Probably.

He wasn’t even sure what side he’d pick, or what he’d do — again, not that he was thinking about it.

He absolutely, definitely did not let his exploration take him into the farthest side, the door shutting with a final-sounding soft close clink, the lighting going dim in the stall.

A small green light, unobtrusive but obvious once you knew where to look, had startled him. Occupied.

(He definitely did not enter the little stall five more days in a row until on the fifth he gathered the courage to drop to his knees to asses the height of the hole relative to his mouth and fiddle with the adjustment knob.

Tony was, if nothing else, always the perfect engineer.)

-

Peter was hyper-aware when he was sharing a workout with anyone else. Waited to see if they’d follow him into the locker room.

Sometimes they did and he showered knowing someone else was a stall away. But no footsteps ever wandered to the end of the line of shower stalls.

He wasn’t disappointed, exactly. It was just. Whoever had complained that superheroes couldn’t get laid easily was speaking the truth.

Occasionally he would be working with Tony in the labs, on the rare occasion they were at the compound at the same time, and find himself wondering if Tony remembered the superhero glory hole he’d created several floors below him.

He’d wonder if Tony ever tried it.

He’d wonder if Tony ever thought about Peter trying it. If he’d seen Peter stumble away from the drunken group field trip presentation with blotchy red on his cheeks.

He’d wonder if Tony knew the height was perfect for the distance from Peter’s knees to his mouth.

He’d wonder if he was going a little crazy about the whole Glory Hole Joke.

-

“If I sit in this chair for another minute my back is going to spontaneously throw itself out,” Tony announces from his lab bench.

Peter smirks at him, sparing a glance up from his pipette and beaker. A quip is on his tongue, the perfect time for an old man joke, but the words die in his throat.

Tony is stretching slowly from a sit to a stand, arms over his head, faded t-shirt scrunching up under his armpits to reveal a few inches of soft belly skin dusted with hair.

“Gonna go get a workout in before lunch. Dinner? Midnight snack? Honesty no idea where we’re falling in the meal spectrum right now.”

Peter swallows around his dry throat. “Dinner,” he says, though he also has no clue what time it is. “Probably.”

Tony jerks his thumb toward the elevator across the room. “Maybe I’ll see you down there,” he says.

It sounds so casual. Maybe he will. Peter wants to die a little with how much he wants to see Tony on Floor B8. A little further past the gym than Tony has in mind.

“Maybe,” Peter agrees, turning back to his pipette, which he’s pretty sure has been steadily dropping too much of the base into his reactive acid this entire time.

-

Peter spends 10 minutes cleaning up his lab bench and another 5 staring blankly at the elevator doors.

The cheerful and non-descript elevator AI asks him what floor he wants three separate times. Peter is glad it isn’t FRI or KAREN. They’d have called him out by now.

“B8,” he says.

He walks out of the elevator with purpose, resolved to head to the rowing machine and get a pre-dinner workout in with Mr. Stark, shake off his nervous and pent-up energy until it’s sweat out of his system.

There’s a small snag in his plan. Tony is running on the omni-directional treadmill, back to Peter. He has Starkphones in, completely sound proof.

Peter licks his lips at the sight of the sweat on Tony’s back, the way it causes his shirt to cling to his spine.

He makes a split second decision, borne maybe of too many late night fantasy scenarios to count. It’s easy to walk past the treadmill and cross to the other end of the facility, past the boxing rings.

It’s easy to walk down the line of shower stalls, the overhead lights pinging on instantly as he walks further and further, steps getting quicker.

It’s — it’s not perfectly easy, he has to stop and take a breath before he walks into the farthest partitioned side of the glory hole. But then it is done: the door softly closes, the little green LED flicking on, and all Peter has to do is sink down to his knees.

All Peter did was walk across a room but his heart is beating wildly like he just went stealth mode on a dangerous stake out.

The reality is Tony didn’t notice Peter even enter the gym. He might finish his workout and go up to his own expansive compound rooms to shower. He might shower here, the echo of water driving Peter insane with mental images, and never even glance down to see the subtle green light.

He might see the green light, know that Peter is there, and leave anyway.

Peter bangs his head softly against the wall, nose catching the human-sized opening awkwardly, and resigns himself to letting his legs go numb from the knees down while he waits with all his hope in his throat, anyway.

-

A soft noise, the woosh of the main locker room door, makes every hair on Peter’s arms stand up.

He swallows, pitching forward in his enclosed stall as if that will bring him closer to the source of the noise.

It could be someone else, though Peter has no idea who could be on the weekend roster.

There’s a rustle of clothing he barely needs to strain to hear. The soft thump of something hitting the ground. The hiss of the pipes, not on a human frequency, before the spray of the water gushes out of a distant shower head.

The shower is over quickly, Peter notes, though time has gone soft and slippy. He closes his eyes.

Footsteps. Toward him. The slight air sound of a door opening. The well-known click of the private stall door shutting.

Oh, god. There is someone across from him. Peter forgets to breathe for a second entirely and has to fight from making a sound as he chokes between two inhales.

He can no longer distinguish the small noises from the rushing in his own ears.

The first movement in the hole nearly startles him; just a play of shadows as someone gets ready on the other side.

Then: a cock. It slides through, half-hard, resting thick and plump along the bottom edge of the hole as it passes through. The owner of the cock feeds it all the way, the fat head bending downward and then bobbing up. Toward Peter.

Peter inhales; the scent is clean and his lungs struggle to fill all the way. He rocks forward, drawn to the half-comical, half-arousing reality of the anonymous cock through the hole.

Is it really anonymous? Statistically, Peter thinks it should be Tony. He was in the gym. Would he know it was Peter on the other side? Tony invited Peter down to workout, so the odds were decent the other way around.

Tentatively, Peter darts his tongue out to lick across the head of the cock. It’s flushed darker than the root, and the salty sweet of it blooms on Peter’s tongue.

He may have just licked Tony Stark’s fat cock head for the first time. The idea of it thrills Peter to his bones, his own cock throbbing against the zip of his jeans.

There’s a chance it isn’t Tony.

Peter licks a bolder stripe across the head, swirling around the ridge. His saliva glands are over active, he’s practically drooling already at the idea of this.

There’s a chance it’s someone else. Peter may never even find out.

His cock twitches at that, too. Fuck. He wraps his lips around the entire head, drenching it with his own slick excitement as he opens his mouth up further and slides down several inches in his eagerness.

He gags, pulls back, and returns immediately.

The man on the other side of the wall is silent, but a slight bang against the wall — the slap of someone’s hand to the partition, as if Peter’s already doing such a good job they can’t help it — makes Peter shove more of the warm cock between his lips to muffle any of his own noises.

If he moaned, he’s sure someone could pick out the octave of his voice and just know. They’d know Peter is twenty seconds into this and already drooling for it.

Tony would know for sure. The thought makes Peter palm his own cock, wishing he’d thought to unzip his jeans while he waited, but not wanting to stop to focus enough to do so now.

He would’ve felt so pathetic, waiting alone, pants undone and cock half-hard with anticipation. Now, he’s stuck curling his fingers against the denim of his fly and worrying he might leak precome through his briefs and jeans by the end of this.

He tongues along the bottom vein of the cock in front of him, marveling at the weight of it and at the stretch of his lips around it as they drag slickly up and down. The angle is decent, but still strange, his neck stiff as he tries to bob back and forth to take the entire thing.

The cock in his mouth is definitely fully hard now, pulsing and flexing against Peter’s tongue, the tip bursting an addictive drop of precome every few passes. The taste is such a contrast to the soap-clean skin of the length that every taste forces Peter to swallow back a moan.

His nose mashes slightly against the wall when he focuses enough to take as much as he can down his throat. It feels deliriously good, a sense of terribly slutty pride coursing through him every time his nose hits the partition over the hole.

He’s slid all the way down when the owner of the cock abruptly slides back out.

Peter’s mouth opens around an unvoiced protest, barely catching a whine from spilling out before the cock slides back in, fucking back between Peter’s parted swollen lips and down his open throat.

He does moan at that, deep and hopefully muffled by his mouth full of cock.

Peter catches on quickly: he can keep his mouth open, his forehead and nose pressed hard against the wall, and the stranger on the other end can simply fuck his mouth.

It’s so simple to stay still, dragging his tongue back and forth and dragging his hand over his own trapped cock while he gets efficiently face fucked. It’s almost dream-like, two pinpoints of focus — the stranger’s pleasure and Peter’s pleasure — taking up all the space in his brain.

A hand slaps the wall on the other side again, harder this time, the cock in Peter’s mouth tensing and pulsing before his throat is coated with come.

Peter comes in his own pants, hips frantically bucking as he swallows down several continuous seconds of anonymous come. He bangs his head on the wall, hard, trying to balance and keep his position at the same time.

When the cock slides out from between hips lips, dragging and lingering on Peter’s bottom lip for a moment before disappearing, Peter falls back against the tile and inhales sharply.

He waits for the click of the door on the other side of the wall and for the padding of the feet to disappear. He doesn’t even have the mental energy to try and figure out if he recognizes the sound and weight of the softly echoing feet.

He forgets about dinner, peeling himself off the floor eventually and floating all the way to his room.

-

In the morning, Peter is slow to rise, feeling heavy-limbed and not awake enough to revisit the previous night.

When he finally manages to roll out of bed and head to the communal kitchens, the line of Tony’s back at the breakfast bar greets him first.

Peter flashes to the sweat-soaked gym shirt from the night before and swallows around a suddenly dry mouth once again.

“Hey shortstack,” Rhodes calls from the other side of the counter.

Peter gives him a tired salute, covering for his slight startle, and heads for the fridge behind Tony.

“You two see any ghosts while you were rattling around this place all by your lonesomes last night?” Rhody asks.

Peter just catches himself from overpouring his orange juice onto the counter as the dots connect in his head. He never did look at the weekend security roster.

Surely Rhody can’t mean he and Tony were the only—

“Ghosts? No, just me and Pete, who ghosted me for dinner.”

Tony turns and grabs the freshly poured orange juice glass from Peter’s hands, catching his finger tips as he pulls it free and sparking heat up Peter’s fingers in return.

“For me? You didn’t have to,” Tony says, catching Peter’s startled glance with a too-wide smile.

He takes a wide gulp, only breaking eye contact to turn around and set the glass down.

Tony slaps the counter with a small, satisfied groan. “Delicious,” he says brightly.

Rhody rolls his eyes and turns back to his phone and eggs.

Peter stands still. The slap echos over and over again in Peter’s head as he flushes. Oh.

——-

WELL I said I was going to answer these on my phone and I did. Oops. Will edit and whatever on my computer tomorrow hahaha.

[dirtbra1n]

guys keep me in your #thoughts I’m almost out of a particular set of woods. Almooost there

[ssongsboo]

im almost finished w my hyungseok bday post [its a lot longer than i expected] n i wondered if ppl actually listened to the songs i add in the title for my posts bc theyre significant!! every time i write i listen to a specific song on repeat to keep myself in the headspace and the vibe? ig LOL

[sundancefemme]

750 words into my essay!!!

[littlest-bugz]

I DONT CARE IF THE CHAPTER IS EIGHT PAGES! IT NEEDS TO BE MORE!! WAY MORE

[joyridingmp3]

all those memes about struggling to fill in word count but my experience has always been the opposite. it's always so hard to fit in everything they want you to say in the measly word count they give you

[reki-of-the-valley]

Actually going crazy over the fact that the word limit is 500 words

[jmflowers]

Hygge Universe is back.