#I don't think it would be fair from the experience I had in my mental state to say whether the place was good or bad

[hochsleep]

Relationship with Daryl Dixon (headcanons)

This is my first experience writing headcanons, but I have a lot to say! And yes, I used a gif from Beth, but we don't support that pairing here, guys.....

Also, thanks to the author of the gif!

Pronouns: she/her (fem!reader) / (I'll do headcanons for Daryl's relationship for gender-neutral readers later on)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon/fem!reader (Y/N)

Warnings: no, not this time. Everything is decent (underage readers can read)

• Daryl Dixon is far from stupid. I mean, he can certainly tell the difference between romantic interest and friendly sympathy. He has Carol, his best friend, and he knows that he feels for her the kind of platonic friendly love he usually feels for a family member. But that's not the case with you. Sure, you've most likely known Daryl for a long time (assuming you joined Rick's group at any point from Atlanta to Prison, can pick at your discretion). So since you've known each other for a while, Daryl has had time to realize that his feelings for you are far from friendly. All the tenderness and care that he feels for you hardly compares to friendship. Daryl definitely didn't feel like kissing Carol's lips every time she came into his field of vision. That's the difference.

• But realizing your feelings is only halfway there. Daryl isn't the type to make the first move and declare his love. He's a very insecure person because of his past, so it would be hard for him to believe that someone like you would want someone like him. Daryl will just watch over you from the sidelines, he will make sure you are safe and will always be there to protect you. Even if it's just a harmless fall down the stairs when you were arranging jars of canned fruit on the top shelf in the Alexandria pantry. He will notice that the stepladder beneath you is wobbling dangerously and will be there to catch you and prevent you from bruising any part of your body. He will take great care of you.

• Daryl is probably the type of man who idolizes and admires the girl he's in love with. Both her character and inner world, as well as her looks. He would spend hours just looking at your unconditionally beautiful face. Every mole, every freckle, every wrinkle in the corner of your eyes when you smile. God, he could never get enough. Every part of you is perfect. Daryl's not sure he's ever seen a more beautiful woman. I mean, he probably had a soft spot for women he personally thought were pretty in the past, but it was never more than a glance in their direction. Just trying to say that Daryl isn't a pristine and innocent man who never thought about women. Over the many years of his maybe not the most prosperous life, Daryl has definitely had his fair share of beautiful women. But it had always been respectful. Mental admiration from the sidelines. Daryl never "barked" or "bit" like Merle. Daryl is much more respectful of women.

• That's why he likes to watch from the sidelines and think about you. A lot of thinking. Daryl is indeed a man of few words, but he has more than enough to think about. And when he falls in love, you become the center. Except when Daryl has to think about survival or when he and Rick are making a plan of action to save the group. But rest assured, all of Daryl's free time is spent thinking about you. He's very observant and remembers every little thing about you so he can think about it later. Do you like to read? Daryl will listen to you talk about your favorite books and find them during one of your outings, rest assured. Do you like wildflowers? Great, a bouquet of a hundred of them will be waiting for you on the doorstep of your Alexandria home when you come home after a hard day's work. Maybe you like a certain kind of clothing? Like something knit? Daryl will either find it during the outing or ask Carol to help with it when she's not busy. He won't say who it's for, but Carol certainly knows. And after you get those little gifts, Daryl will watch you smile widely because you know who left them under your door. And Daryl will think about your smile until he falls asleep at night. But he'll only dream about you, too.

• Somehow you were the first to admit your feelings because Daryl is actually cowardly about these things. A man can take on walkers or hostile people with his bare hands (like the Saviors), but he definitely can't just go and tell someone he really likes how he feels. No, you have to push him. And hints aren't enough, you have to say it outright. And then probably prove the sincerity of your words of love for the rest of your life, because Daryl Dixon is a very insecure man. He knows in his brain that you really do love him and will be faithful to him, but those childhood traumas are really getting in the way of his life. Be prepared for that.

• Your relationship with Daryl will gain momentum gradually. I don't think Daryl really likes all these formalities and labels like "girlfriend" and "boyfriend". You're just his and he's just yours. There's no need to complicate it all, the world of the zombie apocalypse is already very complicated. But if you care about dates and formalities, surely Daryl can learn to take it seriously. Not right away, but he will. Just give him time and he'll lay the whole world at your feet. And he'll start marking your anniversary with a marker on his calendar so that he definitely won't miss this important day for you (he won't admit it, but for him too). Daryl will be learning and you'll have to be a good mentor in this relationship for the first few years. It will be worth it, trust me.

• Daryl Dixon gets attached to people easily. He's like a big loyal dog. I mean, have you seen how loyal he is to Rick and Carol? He bites at first, doesn't want to let anyone in, but eventually he gives in and lets you take his heart and soul under his protection. Take care of that. My point is that this is the same way love works in Daryl's case. I'm pretty sure Daryl doesn't believe in the concept of love at first sight and stuff, he rather believes that love only comes about through the process of a relationship. So at first he thinks you are just a pretty woman. Then a friend. Then a good friend. And yes, he may feel sympathy, affection and probably crush at this time, but not love. No, he falls in love with you gradually. It's a slow process, but in Daryl's case it will be forever. He's definitely a one-woman man. And when he allows himself to really love you and not just be a little bit in love, when his heart completely belongs to you and he finally says "I love you" with all seriousness and responsibility, rest assured that this is love. This man will show you what true love is. Safe, sincere, and endlessly committed. Just give him time. Let him love you.

• The following headcanon (though I think it's unqualified canon) about Daryl's loyalty follows from this. You may try to be jealous of him or think he'll fall in love with someone else (it all depends on your confidence), but Daryl will prove time and time again that he's only loyal to you. This man is serious about his and your feelings and your relationship. Therefore, he will not give not a single reason for jealousy. But there could be quite a few women around (and men probably too) who might like Daryl. He doesn't care, he will never look at anyone else. Why would he do that when he has you? You're perfect for him and his heart doesn't belong to him anymore. So if Daryl notices your jealousy and insecurity, he'll spend all his time trying to prove to you that you're the one for him. He's deeply committed. To Rick, to Carol, to Maggie, to Alexandria. He's eternally devoted to you.

• The relationship with Daryl will be full of complexities, let's not turn a blind eye to that. He's a complicated man with a lot of trauma behind him. The situation is more acute if you're a complicated person, too. There's a lot to put up with. Probably a lot of fighting at the beginning of the relationship, especially if we're talking about Daryl from the first seasons of the show. But if you're both willing to work on that relationship, it will work well. Again, not right away, but it will. Daryl is sure that his love for you will be enough for both of you and certainly for solving all your problems in this relationship. He will try his best for you and you will try your best for him too.

• Physical intimacy is probably going to be difficult. Daryl's not a fan of close physical contact, especially with someone he can't call his family. You know, the boy had a shitty childhood. But he feels the need to feel the warmth of your skin on his skin. So he may unknowingly touch you before your relationship even begins. It could just be a "casual" hand collision when you both reached for the same item on the shelf. Or he may lightly touch your shoulder when he needs to get your attention and say something to you. You shouldn't pressure him with this and force a hug or anything like that. He will definitely come to it on his own when he's comfortable and he sees that you're okay with it. As your relationship progresses, he will open up to new types of physical contact more quickly. Sure he'll hug you a lot, try to hold your hand in his, but it's all in private. And of course kissing. I think Daryl actually likes kissing, but he's not very good at it for lack of much experience. Teach him how to kiss well if you have enough experience yourself. He'll be a good student. Especially when it comes to lessons involving his lips on yours. I'm pretty sure Daryl will become very clingy as your relationship progresses. When you're alone together, he won't be able to feel comfortable unless his arms are around you in one way or another. He physically needs to hold you, to bump his nose into your neck and hair to smell your scent, which he loves so much. And of course kissing. Gentle kisses or passionate French kisses, he loves it all.

• Daryl definitely doesn't like the display of attachment on the publick. He considers it yours and his alone. Something private that needs to be kept out of the public eye. Well, he's also pissed off by those ambiguous looks Carol and Rick give him after you call him "baby" or "cutie" in public. But Daryl is willing to hold your hands and will even let you kiss him on the cheek in public if he's in a good mood. He'll save the rest for the two of you alone in your sweet home in Alexandria.

• As for intimacy, everything is ambiguous here. I think for Daryl it is not at all a mandatory aspect of the relationship. If you are asexual, he will have absolutely no problem with this. You are more than enough. The opportunity to see you smile, hug you and make you happy is all he needs. Sex is not necessary and Daryl can definitely live without it if you are not interested in sexual relations. But if you are not against it, then he will be happy to please you. I mean, he does it every day just by existing and loving you, but if he can please you in a sexual sense, he will be happy to do so. But again, not right away. You both will go to this gradually. Trial and error. Only when he completely opens up to you and is not ashamed of his scars, knowing that you love them completely and completely because they are a part of him. But most importantly, when you yourself tell him that you are also ready, then you can act. Daryl has some experience. Merle ordered Daryl... a prostitute for his twenty-first birthday and Daryl had to do it. I think he was the one feeling like a prostitute, not the woman. And maybe he's slept with random women from a bar a couple of times after drinking too much. But it was never anything special and not out of great desire. With you, it's different. Sex with you is his way of showing you love in a new way. Either way, he knows how it works, but you still need to guide him. Show him how you like it and help him the first few times. Daryl is a quick learner, especially if you help him. So pretty soon he'll memorize all the right places and positions to make you feel good as hell, nothing less. Daryl will make sure that you feel good first.

• Your comfort is Daryl's absolute priority. Over the years, he will learn to compromise and give in when necessary. Daryl loves you unconditionally and is ready to be on his knees in front of you, this is what you have done to him with your love and tenderness. Daryl Dixon has become soft and fluffy around you. Just for you. Merle would call him a pansy and laugh, but Daryl doesn't care. Not anymore. You're all he cares about.

• You're his safe place. His home. His heart and soul belong to you, take care of it. And then Daryl Dixon will move mountains for you, you bet he will.

~ A cute little headcanon as a bonus: I honestly think the soundtrack of the relationship with Daryl, is the song: The Goo Goo Dolls - Iris.

[peony-pearl]

out of curiosity I looked up the hospital I stayed at way back when I was getting help for my mental health and I think I found it (it’s changed names since I went). I know to take Google reviews with a grain of salt but seeing it has almost 200 reviews and it’s rated under 2 out of 5 stars... lmao interesting.

[2minutesnotice]

Why People With Mental Illness And Trauma Deserve Love

(and why Blitzø Buckso is one of them)

Grab yourself some snacks and a drink, I'll have a talk with you people who go all for the

"If you can't love yourself, you can't love anybody else"

mantra, which is toxic as fuck.

And sorry for the typos 😬🥲

SPOILER WARNING Full Moon

tw:mental illness / coping mechanism / self harm self worth / shitty parenting /abusive and toxic relationships

First of all, I'm autistic, so a lot of scenarios I'll give you will come from my experiences because it's easier for me to feel empathy that way and explain a situation.

BLITZØ IN FULL MOON

People come into my DMs and want to rant with me about him. I get it. It seems he's an asshole.

And he IS.

Blitzø has multiple character traits which are trauma coded and boy what a can of worms that is. Most of them are really hard in your face, like the fact that he can't stand his own face in pictures.

Which comes from a deep rooted self hate, which comes up in self worth issues. Blitzø had his fair experience with drugs and alcohol , even drowned himself in last to get over his shitty experience with Stolas at Ozzie's.

I'm not saying he's suicidal, but Blitzø's biggest fear is, to die alone.

Because he KNOWS how he is. That makes him really self reflected. He knows how he behaves, he knows his own coping mechanisms.

That's why it's so easy to make him mad. He's mostly angry at himself in most situations, so it also happened in Full Moon. Blitzø uses anger to get things out of people, because most people react to anger, but he's not doing it to HURT people, it's the only way he knows how to get an reaction out of people.

The reaction HE wants. Since Blitzø has no self worth he has no clue WHY people should love him. So he shoves them away and keeps them at distance.

At the same time he CRAVES intimacy. And here's the conflict. Blitzø's love language is sex.

He feels the closest to people if he can be intimate with them. And yes, even in a weird "I fuck Chaz to be close to M&M" kind of way. He is krass with his talking about sex, he over shares, he LOVES to talk about sex.

Because he's good at it. And because it gets him close to people. If the show had more time I bet we would've seen Blitzø having multiple one night stands over the time. Yes, even with his arrangement with Stolas. Because there was sex before there were feelings. Definitely.

Shitty Parenting x Self Worth

Blitzø got sold by his own father as a play buddy for a rich kid. Yes the rich kid was Stolas and it was cute, but still, rich kid.

And we all have seen, that he wasn't good at what his father made him do in the circus but what Blitzø always had, was his pride. Also, he's very good at making things up as they go. Doing that damn horse balloon and making a joke about it, shows how he is capable of selling himself still as the best, even if it isn't so.

We don't know much about Tilla, but we know Blitzø definitely had a closer relationship to her then to his father.

I know we only have two concrete scenes which show what kind of an relationship Cash and his son had, but the "I wish you were my son" card for Fizz kinda draws us the picture here.

As a child who always had to compete with a sister which was highly gifted, this does something to you.

You try to be better, at any cost. Sounds familiar?

"I'll try to be better".

But what? In what will he try to be better? I think Blitzø doesn't even know at what he will try to be better, he just does not want to lose this. But what is this?

RELATIONSHIPS

IF Blitzø would have just cared about his business, he would've walked away with the crystal. Just like that. He would've said

"Thank Satan, I thought I would lose my business,thanks Stolas, it was nice as it lasted" and he would've been gone.

But he didn't. He listened to what Stolas said but he didn't LISTEN. Because it was confusing as fuck, even as The Audience just watching it was a LOT what was said and going from

"I'll let you go" to "I have feelings for you, please stay" in a second.

And of course Blitzø would not understand that. Because Stolas could not MEAN it. Because Stolas has servants who are Imps and he called him names, a plaything and if Blitzø is anything for Stolas, at first, he's a whore.

Blitzø sold his body for a service. For his business.

They could have made that arrangement about ANYTHING. Money, another hitman service, bodyguarding.

STOLAS made it about sex. The thing Blitzø knows, the one he CRAVES, the thing he is good at, besides killing people.

But the one thing Blitzø is not good at, are words and feelings. And Stolas had a lot of them, at once. And it felt not fair for Blitzø to be cornered like that, because he had no idea what was expected from him. And then he used the ONLY thing he knows, which always gets something out of people: Anger.

That's the words and feelings he knows.

And he got an reaction, but also had to deal with the consequences.

STOLAS AT FULL MOON

I love Stolas. But he he's living in a romance novel world and there's also, trauma.

Stolas first words I had imprinted in my mind were "I always thought love could be fun". He wished for a happy family his whole life and all he got was an abusive wife and a loveless marriage.

He is a dreamer. Someone who loves the small things and he is caring. He loves to indulge in fiction, he loves telenovelas because even if there's drama, there are relationships. Something he never had experienced.

Stolas is a soft soul. But he's repressed and depressed as fuck. And that's not only because of Stella, but his upbringing and the knowledge to live in a Golden Cage. But he never voices that he has problems with THAT.

See, Stolas is a prince, he grew up with servants, Imps mostly. In a palace. Even if he despises Stella's parties, I bet if he wouldn't be an outsider in his own race, he would be the one doing the parties himself. It would do him some good because Stolas is also, lonely.

While Blitzø lived in Circus tents and tried to proof himself, Stolas had to proof that he's worthy his title as a prince. Being married, the whole heir thing, his duties.

And then Blitzø appears out of fucking nowhere, seducing him (like in his novels!), staying with him the whole night (showing him he's obviously gay), showing him he can choose, that he HAS A CHANCE to be happy.

With Blitzø.

And then we see the duet and the second Stolas sings about how he wants this to go, I knew they will fuck up. Because Stolas had played out this scenario SO OFTEN in his head, that he has so many images of Blitzø in his head that he knows this will not work out good. He has hopes and dreams but in the end, the decision falls on Blitzø.

So we go to Full Moon and Blitzø reacts... poorly. He even mocks him. And then he starts screaming and shouting and guess who else was always shouting and screaming? Guess who told Stolas his whole marriage that he's not worth anything. That he's not worth of love, that he's a failure, that his head is in the clouds and mocked him about everything he loves.

Blitzøs only way to cope with too many feelings is anger, Stolas trauma is based on anger and rejection.

But Stolas reacted so FAST. He gave Blitzø the crystal and he told him that he gives him the offer to stay, because he has feelings for him (like in his novels!) and his hopes are so high and the second he does not get what he wants, what he needs, he snaps. He's disappointed. He's hurt.

Because he wants this so bad to work.

But it can't, because they're for now reading the same book, but they're so not on the same page.

Because, and now we're getting there, they have to deal with what was said.

TRAUMA AND RELATIONSHIPS

I'm married for ten years now. My wife and I met each other 20 years ago.

I was suicidal back then, I cut myself regularly, I was depressed and had an eating disorder.

But I had friends. And I had relationships. And I loved so so deeply.

And then I got together with my wife 11 years ago. I was freshly diagnosed with being autistic, my wife has ADHD.

She also has several PTSD triggers, I have childhood trauma from living with my Mom who's an alcoholic.

And yes, I am able to have an relationship. We love each other dearly, we care about each other. We learn from each other, daily.

We have bad days, but we are GOOD for each other.

Because you DESERVE TO BE LOVED, no matter what.

In the first place is always that you're responsible for yourself. You can't trauma dump on your partner in excessive ways because that's not healthy. BUT learning to share your experiences but still being responsible for yourself and your actions, is a whole different thing.

You can love and be loved, even at your lowest.

But you have to be aware that your partner is not your therapist and that communication in a relationship, in which both parties are mentally ill, is KEY.

You have to go to the same ground, you have to explain what are your boundaries, what are your triggers but you have also to accept that the other one is sometimes not able to deal with your package.

My wife and I, we communicate DAILY. We have totally different needs. We have totally different views and patterns to deal with things. But we love each other.

Because we respect each other's differences.

And that's the homework for Stolas and Blitzø. They don't have to TO GET BETTER, they have to grow and they have to listen, communicate instead of just dumping expectations at each other.

You can't expect someone to break a pattern that is carved by trauma, just because you tell them you love them. And you can't expect that someone's listening when you push all their triggers at once.

I'm really excited how this will go. It's heartbreaking but I guess now that everything is said, they can finally be honest, without all the trauma dumping and pushing buttons.

And as I said:

You're worth of love. You're worth to be loved and you can give love, even at your lowest. Your deserve love, even at your lowest. You ARE loved.

Thank you for reading! ✨ Gold Star for you!

[jotabug]

Bug Type Ask Game!!

I spent uh, a decent amount of time gathering my knowledge on almost all bug types to come up with a fitting ask game! I dont understand the Ultra Beasts and Paradox Pokemon nearly enough to have them here, though.

Butterfree - What is something that brightens your day?

Beedrill - What is something that enrages you?

Parasect - Have you ever been affected by Status Effects? If yes, how did it feel like? (Like falling asleep to Spore, being burned by Will-O-Wisp, being paralyzed by Thunderwave, etc.)

Venomoth - What calls your attention like a moth to a flame?

Scyther | Scizor - Do you consider yourself efficient at what you do?

Pinsir - Do you consider yourself brutal at what you do?

Ledian - What is the strongest pokemon you think you could best in a fist fight?

Ariados - What makes you feel trapped?

Forretress - Do you tend to put on a facade or are you true to yourself?

Shuckle - What is your favorite Berry?

Heracross - What is your greatest strength?

Beautifly | Dustox - How much have you changed since you were a kid?

Masquerain - How do people generally seem to think you're like?

Ninjask - What is your experience with flying?

Shedinja - What is your experience with loss?

Volbeat | Illumise - What is your experience with love?

Armaldo - What is your favorite fossil pokemon?

Kricketune - What is your experience with music?

Wormadam - How well do you take to the weather where you live?

Mothim - Have you ever stolen? If so, did you get caught?

Vespiquen - What makes you stand out from those around you?

Yanmega - Have you ever had to deal with unreasonable expectations?

Leavanny - What is your favorite kind of clothing?

Scolipede - What is a pokemon thats bigger/smaller than you expected?

Crustle - Do you consider yourself resilient? Physically or mentally.

Escavalier | Accelgor - Are you more likely to cheat or play fair if you want to win?

Galvantula - How long would you survive with no electricity?

Durant - How good are you at working together with people?

Volcarona - Which pokemon of yours is best at battling?

Vivillon - Do you consider yourself fashionable?

Vikavolt - What devices do you always bring with you?

Ribombee - Who has been always supporting you when you need it?

Araquanid - What is the longest time you've spent underwater?

Golisopod - What is something you're very afraid of?

Orbeetle - How smart are you?

Centiskorch - How competitive are you?

Frosmoth - What do you think of winter and snow?

Spidops - What is a pokemon you think people should appreciate more?

Lokix - How often do you win pokemon battles? If you don't, do you plan on starting?

Rabsca - Do you believe in legendaries and mythicals?

I am SO SORRY for how big it is (lies.) Remember to send one to who you reblogged it from!

[cinnamonest]

With this whole 'rape fantasies are a result of misogyny as they allow women a guilt free sexuality cos they have no autonomy'

Surely that means your writing and fantasies are contributing to misogyny? Adding to it and normalising it?

Like isnt the answer to write and encourage fantasies of empowerment? Not abuse and rape?

Just seems crazy to me like 'we do this because of misogyny. And we'll keep doing it'

Obviously some behaviour come from misogyny and exist to combat it. This... really doesn't

I just don't think it's a feminist win when your writing is indistinguishable from that of a misogynistic man's.

This isnt an attack on you it just really seems like common sense that if something exists because of misogyny the last thing we should do is feed into those ideas

(I assume this is coming from this post, so I might reference that a bit here)

No worries, I fully understand how this can come across negative to those who do not have the same experiences and I appreciate you approaching the matter in a non-attacking way with genuine desire to have dialogue on the subject. I'll do my best to address these points individually.

>Surely that means your writing and fantasies are contributing to misogyny? Adding to it and normalising it?

In the past few years fandom culture has become a bit obsessed with the idea of "normalization" to the point that the definition of the term has been a bit skewed, which creates issues with these discussions.

There is no concept of which existence of content containing it alone constitutes normalization, by the actual definition of the word. Normalization is the process by which it is distributed and way in which it is presented, and intent of its creation.

Normalization via fiction is a process in which a creator, generally intentionally, creates content that presents a concept as, well, normal. That is, not reprehensible or problematic to replicate, and presents this to a population with the intent of them accepting the idea as something acceptable in reality. Generally it also necessitates that the creator will try to ensure the media is viewed by mainstream general audiences who would not normally seek the content out, since the purpose of normalization is to make an idea acceptable amongst a population.

That is the opposite of what I am doing, which is creating a private space filled with warnings. I am going out of my way to ensure that people who do not want to see this content, have the foreknowledge to opt to avoid it.

By definition, if you’re creating content and ensuring that it is heavily warned, and marketing it as such that only a niche group who likes such content seeks it out, that’s not normalization by any reasonable metric.

>Like isnt the answer to write and encourage fantasies of empowerment? Not abuse and rape?

For some people, I’m sure that would help them, and in that case, that is a great solution for them.

But people are different, and certain things that help some, don’t help others. The types of fantasies that would probably be called “empowering,” personally do nothing for me but make me uncomfortable, in the same way that the sort of content I write makes some people uncomfortable. It does not have the same positive effects on my mental health that this form of content does.

>Obviously some behaviour come from misogyny and exist to combat it. This... really doesn't

That's fair — but it doesn't have to.

It is not intended to directly combat misogyny in any way, there are other ways to do that, and this does not have to be one. It's primary purpose is catharsis and the ways in which it benefits me and, as is my hope, those who choose to consume it.

>I just don't think it's a feminist win when your writing is indistinguishable from that of a misogynistic man's.

Again, I never had any intention for it to be a "win" — misogyny is the reason for why I have these desires, but in making what I make, my purpose is to provide catharsis for myself and others.

But also, I would heavily contest that it is indistinguishable from male fantasies. As someone who has seen actual men's misogynist fetishization fantasies, they are very different.

Female disposability and the complete worthlessness of women’s very being — that is, women being non-human objects that are interchangeable, and made to be used temporarily and replaced — is the core defining characteristic of male fantasy/sexuality. Male fantasies almost always involve multiple women to one man, largely because he does not have any actual bond with women, they are items to be collected, no interpersonal relationship actually exists.

The lack of interpersonal connection and lack of personableness itself is fetishized by men, what men get off to is the power they feel from completely disregarding the woman as a person in any way. The very act of the woman being thrown away after being used is fetishized.

In male fantasy, there is no interpersonal connection or affection of any kind, whereas that is one of the defining themes of content like mine.

Tl;dr — while misogyny impacts all women, the severity and form of it in different upbringings, environments and cultures can create misunderstandings and strong reactions when different people react so differently to the same content and thus form misconceptions about each other's perceptions and intentions, but I believe both sides of this argument are usually coming from a place of good intent.

While I fully understand how it would be difficult for those who do not have the same experience to grasp mine, I just ask for mutual understanding that some forms of content help some people, in the same way entirely different forms of content help other people.

[bird-inacage]

Only Friends: Sand's crushing reality 'It's never about me'

I've noticed a lot of comments wishing Sand could be open about his feelings for Ray. Though that's a fair assessment and would save us a tonne of agony, I've attempted to delve into why this isn't so simple.

The Weight of Dignity & Mutual Respect

Sand comes across as someone who highly values dignity. Everyone deserves to be treated with due respect, and this is seen through how he interacts with others. Sand gets upset when someone questions his integrity, such as when Ray insinuates him to be a thief or questions him for bootlegging alcohol. He gets angry when someone tries to hurt Ray whilst his back is turned. Sand lives his life by an honourable and respectful philosophy, and the least he expects is for others to treat him the same way.

Therefore it's understandable that he hates being treated like a fool (whether that's being taken advantage of, humiliated or subjected to unwarranted judgement).

Ray has consistently maintained that he doesn't see Sand as a boyfriend. Said so himself, repeatedly. (Despite his actions indicating otherwise but that's another post in itself). So if Sand were to reveal his feelings, when he has no definitive confirmation that Ray is taking any of this seriously, he's going to risk feeling incredibly exposed and ridiculous. One of the reasons why rejection is so painful is due to the shame that comes with it. A hit of crippling inadequacy and embarrassment. Being confronted with: 'You're not good enough for me. You don't meet my standards. You're not what I want'.

Sand has probably had to experience a fair amount of falling short. To be lesser than, but largely due to means outside his control. He's been able to rise above those things. However, with Ray, he's not comfortable being in a position where he may be stripped of his dignity.

Boston being the one who dropped the bombshell is what made Sand feel incredibly stupid. For not knowing. For not being told. Which was arguably 100% times worse than hearing it from Ray himself. To be treated with respect is hoping someone will see you as an equal. Regardless of whether they are more than friends - even just between friends, Ray has never alluded to this. (To be fair, he may have been close, but now we'll never know). In that moment, it dawns on Sand how little he knows of Ray.

My belief is that if he were aware of Ray still being in love with Mew, he wouldn't make a move. Because that wouldn't be the honourable or respectful thing to do. So he’s been led to indulge in a fantasy that was never going to materialise. He wasn't in the loop. No one clued him in. He's not been treated equal. He feels like the butt of a bad joke. How could he possibly open up to Ray after that?

The 'Brave Face' of a Caretaker

Sand is a man defined by responsibility. Due to having only one parent in his life, he's learnt to be his mother's rock; resilient and steadfast. The sacrifice of having a caretaker mentality is that your own wellbeing is often an afterthought. How frequently do these types of people in our lives get asked how they feel. How are they doing? They're so busy taking care of everyone else or taking care of 'business', that no one ever thinks to ask. Their cries for help are much quieter, much less obvious and go undetected.

Though Sand is not the best at hiding it, he'll quickly distract others from his own disappointment, upset and hurt for the sake of greater harmony or in consideration of someone else's feelings. 'It's not about me', he seems to remind himself. 'I've got to keep it together. I've got be strong. There's a lot resting on me'.

Caretakers need others to take notice of them. To see past their seemingly infallible façade. They need others to initiate care and concern because they won’t put themselves first. Though Sand's mother evidently adores him, he’s clearly established a dynamic where he takes care of her. So who takes care of Sand? No one. He's on his own. He has no choice but to suck it up when things get tough and move forward as best he can. Life isn't going to stop for him.

Though hugely rattled, Sand immediately diffuses the fight. No questions, no demands that Ray explain himself. He’s still protective of Ray. No matter what happens, he comes second.

The Fault is Yours

Sand really desires someone to see him as 'special', as extraordinary. His life often revolves around others, so if he’s someone else’s priority, that will be a sign. This is why Sand was so affected by Ray passing him up for someone else - he felt expendable.

The gut-wrenching thing about Sand is he doesn't target blame onto others. He doesn't resent his father (who has no idea of his existence). He doesn't resent his mother (who wasn't able to give him a good start in life). He doesn't even resent Ray when he finds out about Mew (because Ray knew Mew first). Instead Sand internalises hardship as a reflection on himself. The reason why Ray can't see him as a boyfriend must be a product of his own shortcomings. Perhaps he's unworthy of someone like Ray to begin with. Boston makes a passing comment that men with Ray's looks and wealth are hard to come by. Sand doesn't need to be reminded that Ray has options. Access to more options besides him.

Things were never handed to Sand on a silver platter, and so he isn't one to assume anything. Don't assume Ray's feelings even if you have a hunch. Don't assume that Ray will fight for you. Don't assume that when push comes to shove, Ray will choose you. Because who are you to assume those things?

It's one thing to be told you can't have something. But it's another to feel like you don't deserve something. As if you never had the right. Never had a chance.

The fault is yours for thinking you did.

Because you're simply not that special.

(Note: So I'm going to need to see a situation where Ray takes care of Sand please. The boy needs it. He needs someone to fight for him for a change. Bear in mind this is just an analysis of what Sand may be feeling. A lot of these assumptions are untrue as Ray does care. But Sand doesn't know what to think anymore.)

[reidmarieprentiss]

Bridges to Belonging

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Six Part Seven

Summary: Spencer and Y/N go on their date!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: suggestive conversation, self doubt, glasses Spencer, reader wears glasses/contacts but other than that i'm trying not to give her a physical description, let me know if i do put her in a narrow category!! i know i said she had curves at rossi's dinner party but to be objectively fair every human has at least one curve lmao

Word count: 5.4k

a/n: i am really enjoying writing these two :') life has been so boring since i graduated. if you're wondering how i bust these out so fast, one -- i don't have a life, and two - i wrote all of my essays the night before or the day they were due hahah

main masterlist

It was Saturday morning, and the air held a crispness that hinted at the excitement of the day ahead. Y/N stood before her wardrobe, contemplating her outfit for the day. She opted for something comfortable yet dressy enough for wherever Spencer might be taking her. The outfit was stylish but not overly formal, perfect for a day that could involve a fair amount of walking yet elegant enough for an unexpected dinner venue. She chose layers—a practical choice that allowed for adjustments depending on whether the day turned warm or cool.

As she dressed, a flutter of excitement danced in her stomach, mixed with a tinge of anxiety that she couldn't shake off. Y/N was excited, truly, but she couldn’t help tempering her anticipation with a cautious restraint. Her past experiences with relationships and dates had taught her to guard her heart. More than once, she'd been let down, left to pick up the pieces after what she thought were promising beginnings fizzled into disappointment. These memories, still vivid, cast a shadow over her current excitement, reminding her to brace for any outcome.

Approaching her dresser, Y/N paused, her hand hovering over her contact lens case. Usually, she preferred contacts for a more put together look, especially when putting extra effort into her appearance. However, remembering the discomfort of her contacts drying out during unexpected long hours, she opted for her glasses instead. She hadn't worn them the first time she met Spencer, and a small part of her worried about what he'd think. Would he notice? Would he care?

She glanced at her reflection in the mirror, now framed by the sleek lines of her glasses. Taking a deep breath, she told her reflection, "Just enjoy the day, no matter what comes," trying to bolster her spirits. She wanted to listen to that optimistic voice in her head telling her everything would be fine, that Spencer was different, that this time it wouldn't end in disappointment. Yet, she prepared herself mentally for any scenario, unwilling to let her guard down completely.

Y/N grabbed her essentials—phone, wallet, a light scarf—and slipped them into her bag. As she took one last look in the mirror, she practiced her smile, the one she’d use to mask her nerves when she met Spencer. She hoped the day would prove her fears unfounded, that it would be a turning point from her past experiences. But she kept her expectations in check, a self-protective measure honed by past heartaches.

—

As the morning sunlight streamed through the blinds of his apartment, Spencer Reid found himself standing before the bathroom mirror, his usual nerves mingling with a specific concern today. He adjusted his glasses, the frames unfamiliar against the bridge of his nose, as he leaned closer to examine his reflection. His contacts had dried out, an unfortunate oversight, leaving him no choice but to wear his glasses for the date with Y/N.

He studied himself critically. The glasses were practical, a necessity for his work, but he rarely wore them anymore. There was something about them that made him feel exposed, more like the bookish nerd he had always been, and who he had been made fun of for being, and less like the confident man he hoped to appear as today. What if she doesn’t like them? The question nagged at him, adding an extra layer of anxiety to his already jittery state.

Spencer took a deep breath, trying to center himself. He remembered reading that people often perceive glasses as a sign of intelligence and reliability, traits he hoped Y/N would appreciate. Still, he couldn't help but worry that perhaps she might prefer him without them, or that they might alter the way she saw him—literally and metaphorically.

As he turned away from the mirror, he made his way to his bedroom to choose his outfit. He opted for a smart-casual ensemble that felt comfortable yet presentable: a crisp button-down shirt paired with a well-fitted blazer, and his best jeans. The glasses, he decided, would just have to become part of his look for the day.

With his outfit sorted, Spencer paced his living room, every potential topic of conversation he had prepared buzzing through his mind. His thoughts were filled with bits of trivia about the latest exhibits at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, hoping these would spark engaging discussions between him and Y/N. He rehearsed some points in his head, mapping out how he might transition from discussing ancient artifacts to more personal subjects, like her interests and hobbies.

However, as much as he prepared, his thoughts kept drifting back to his glasses. He paused in his pacing, catching his reflection in the window. The morning light cast a soft glow that somehow made the glasses seem less obtrusive, more a part of him. "Maybe it's not so bad," Spencer muttered to himself, adjusting to his reflection.

He grabbed his notebook from the coffee table, a little ritual that always helped calm his nerves. Scribbling down some last-minute notes about things he wanted to remember—like asking Y/N about her recent projects and ensuring to mention a little-known fact about an art piece he thought she'd appreciate—helped him feel more in control.

Yet, beneath the surface of his meticulous preparations, there was an undercurrent of excitement. This wasn't just any date; it was a date with Y/N, someone who had sparked a level of interest in him that was rare and invigorating. The glasses, he realized, were just a minor detail in the grand scheme of things. What mattered was the connection they might deepen today.

Finally ready, Spencer took one last look around his apartment to ensure everything was in order before leaving. He grabbed his keys and his jacket, pushed up his glasses with a newfound sense of acceptance, and headed out the door. Today, he decided he would focus on the possibilities, not the insecurities. After all, if their connection was genuine, Y/N would see beyond the glasses to the person behind them. And perhaps, in those museum halls filled with timeless artifacts, they could find something just as enduring between them.

—

Y/N arrived at the coffee shop Spencer had texted her about, her heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and nerves. She spotted Spencer already there, waiting for her by the window, a steaming cup in front of him. He looked up as the bell above the door jingled, his face lighting up when he saw her. Despite her nervousness, Y/N felt a warm flutter in her chest at the sight of his welcoming smile.

"Hey, Y/N, over here!" Spencer called out softly, waving her over.

She walked towards him, her steps hesitant but eager. "Hey, Spencer," she greeted, her voice slightly quivering. As she sat down, she noticed his glasses and couldn't help but smile. "I like your glasses," she said, touching the frame of her own as if to point out the coincidence.

Spencer chuckled, a blush creeping up his cheeks. "Thanks, I usually wear contacts, but, you know, they dried out."

"Same here," Y/N admitted, feeling a connection over their shared minor dilemma. "It’s a glasses kind of day, I guess."

Internally, Y/N felt a surge of relief. Seeing Spencer in his glasses, looking unexpectedly handsome, eased her worries about her own appearance. My god, I didn’t think he could get anymore attractive, she thought, her initial anxiety about her own glasses fading away and being replaced with a warmth that couldn’t be helped by removing her scarf. Maybe all of her clothes. 

Spencer felt a similar relief, his earlier concerns about his glasses dissolving as he saw Y/N's reaction. She doesn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, she looks adorable in hers. Maybe this isn’t such a big deal after all, he reassured himself. His thoughts remained much more pure than Y/N’s, although he couldn’t help but think about how if he tried to kiss her today their glasses would clink together. The thought made a blush rise up his neck to his cheeks. 

There was a brief pause, an almost knowing silence, before Spencer leaned forward, his eyes bright with excitement. "So, I have something planned for us today. I hope you'll like it. We’re going to the Met. There’s a few exhibits I think you’d really enjoy, and then I thought we could grab dinner at a nice place nearby. How does that sound?"

Y/N's eyes widened, her earlier anxieties melting away into genuine excitement. "That sounds amazing, Spencer. I’ve always wanted to go to the Met! And dinner sounds perfect," she replied, her nervousness turning into anticipation.

Spencer seemed relieved by her enthusiasm. "Great! I wasn’t sure what you’d think. I mean, it’s a bit of a train ride, but I thought it might be fun to spend the day in New York."

"It’s more than fun, it’s perfect," Y/N assured him, her smile sincere. "I can’t think of a better way to spend the day." And she meant it, they could talk on the train ride there and back, maybe hold hands, brush thighs. It’s in the little things. 

They decided to take their coffee to go, stepping out together towards the train station. As they walked, the initial awkwardness began to fade. Spencer’s eyes occasionally met Y/N’s, each glance accompanied by a shy smile. "I’m really glad you’re here with me," Spencer confessed, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone.

"Me too," Y/N responded, her heart skipping a beat. "I’ve been looking forward to this all week."

Their conversation drifted to lighter topics, each shared laugh bringing them a little closer, building a bridge over their initial anxieties. As they boarded the train, Y/N felt a newfound optimism. Today was not just another date; it was the beginning of something special, she could feel it. And as they settled into their seats, watching the cityscape start to pass by, she believed, for the first time in a long time, that her hopes were well placed.

As the train clattered along the tracks toward New York, Y/N and Spencer found themselves in the comfortable cocoon of their shared booth. The cityscape blurred past, creating a serene backdrop for their burgeoning connection.

"So, Spencer," Y/N began, leaning forward with a playful glint in her eyes, "tell me about the most bizarre case you've ever worked on. I promise I can handle it."

Spencer chuckled, a blush already tinting his cheeks. "Well, there was this one time we dealt with a suspect who believed he was a 21st-century vampire..." As he recounted the peculiarities of the case, Y/N listened intently, occasionally brushing her foot against his under the table, sending a jolt through him each time. 

(Pretend this case happened earlier)

"Vampires, huh? Are you sure you aren't one?" Y/N teased, her tone light but suggestive. "You do have a certain... nocturnal charm."

Spencer's laugh was nervous, delighted. She's incredible, he thought. So bold and funny. It's utterly disarming. "I assure you, I'm not a vampire. Just a regular guy who happens to have naturally sunken eyes."

Y/N smiled and giggled, pleased with his playful response. "Good to know. I prefer my dates to be sunlight-friendly. Speaking of which, how do you usually spend your days off when you're not chasing fictional vampires or real criminals?"

Spencer found himself more relaxed as he shared more about his love for reading and rewatching sci-fi movies and TV. Y/N seemed genuinely interested, her responses peppered with witty remarks that kept him on his toes.

"Reading, huh? I should have guessed," she said, taking a sip of her coffee. "Next you'll be telling me you have a cat named Schrödinger."

"No cat," Spencer admitted, grinning. "But I wouldn't mind one. As long as it doesn't interfere with my reading."

Their conversation flowed effortlessly from books to favorite ways to spend a rainy day, each topic drawing them closer. Y/N's confidence and teasing made Spencer's heart race, but he found himself enjoying the thrill of it. She’s so refreshing, exciting even. I haven't felt this engaged in a long time.

As the train rolled closer to their destination, Spencer found himself wishing the ride wouldn't end. Y/N had the rare ability to make him blush and laugh in equal measure, a combination he found intoxicating.

"So, Spencer," Y/N leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a whisper as the train noise crescendoed around them. "If today goes well... would you consider making our next date a night at the opera? I hear it's quite the experience."

Spencer's eyes widened, both at the suggestion and her proximity. "I'd like that," he managed to say, his voice steady despite the butterflies in his stomach. "I'd like that very much."

Y/N smiled, her gaze lingering on his for a moment longer than necessary before she leaned back in her seat, satisfied with his response. Spencer watched her, a smile tugging at his lips, his earlier nerves replaced by anticipation and hope. She’s already wanting another date? I’m still hoping I can work up the courage to kiss her, he thought as the skyline of New York City came into view.

As they stepped into the grandeur of The Metropolitan Museum of Art, the vast spaces filled with centuries of art and history, Y/N's excitement was palpable. Her eyes sparkled with each new room they entered, each piece they observed. Spencer, usually reserved, found himself drawn out by her enthusiasm, his voice animated as he shared insights and facts about the artworks around them.

They wandered through the exhibit "The Philippe de Montebello Years: Curators Celebrate Three Decades of Acquisitions," where Y/N's favorite pieces resided. Her gaze lingered on each work, genuinely appreciating the artistry and the stories Spencer told her about the origins and significance of each piece.

"Did you know this particular painting was considered lost for almost two centuries before it was found in a small, forgotten chapel in Italy?" Spencer pointed to an intricate Renaissance painting, its colors vibrant even after all these years.

Y/N listened intently, her interest deepening with each fact. "I had no idea," she responded, her tone full of genuine fascination. "You know so much about all of this, Spencer. It's incredibly... exciting."

Spencer, caught off guard by her candid compliment, blushed deeply but couldn't suppress the grin that spread across his face. "Really?" he asked, his voice a mix of surprise and delight.

"Yes, really," Y/N affirmed, stepping closer to him. "Your brain is the sexiest thing about you, Spencer. The way you know all these things, the way you're so passionate about sharing them—it’s captivating."

Encouraged by her words, Spencer found himself sharing even more. They stopped in front of a medieval tapestry, its threads telling tales of battles and legends. As he explained the symbolism woven into the fabric, Y/N's admiration only grew. She watched him, not just listening but truly seeing him—someone who had finally found a receptive audience for his wealth of knowledge.

Spencer felt a thrill unlike any other. For so long, he had been used to people tuning out his ramblings, to seeing eyes glaze over halfway through his explanations. But with Y/N, it was different. She hung on his every word, her curiosity feeding his own, her enthusiasm fueling a confidence he rarely felt in social settings.

As they moved through the museum, their conversation flowed effortlessly from art to personal anecdotes, each story Spencer shared bringing a new sparkle to Y/N's eyes. He talked about his mother, his childhood filled with books instead of playdates, and she listened, understanding and nodding, sharing bits of her own life in return.

The day at the Met became more than just a date; it was a revelation for both. For Y/N, it was discovering that someone could match her enthusiasm for learning and experiencing new things. For Spencer, it was the joy of finding someone who not only appreciated his intellect but was genuinely excited by it.

As the museum began to close, and they slowly made their way out, neither of them wanted the day to end. They were lost in a bubble where art and intellect intertwined, where every fact shared was a thread pulling them closer together.

As Spencer and Y/N stepped out of The Metropolitan Museum of Art, the energy of New York City enveloped them once again. The streets buzzed with the usual symphony of honking cars, chattering pedestrians, and the distant siren of an emergency vehicle. Spencer turned to Y/N, a thoughtful look on his face.

“There’s a restaurant not too far from here where the team and I ate after wrapping up a case once,” he suggested. “It’s really good, not too fancy but the food is excellent. It might be a bit of a walk, though, so we could grab a cab if you’re tired from all the museum walking.”

Y/N, reveling in the connection they had fostered throughout the day, shook her head with a smile. “I don’t mind the walk, actually. It’s a beautiful evening, and I’m enjoying spending time with you. Let’s walk.”

Spencer nodded, visibly pleased by her eagerness to extend their time together. They started down the sidewalk, navigating through the bustling crowd. The city seemed to glow with a warm, golden light as the sun began to set, casting long shadows on the pavement.

As they were walking, the crowd around them thickened momentarily as people hurried to cross the street before the light changed. In the midst of this, a passerby stumbled a bit too close to Y/N, jostling her slightly. Instantly, Spencer’s protective instincts kicked in. He placed his hand on her lower back, gently pulling her closer to his side, away from the rush of the crowd.

The contact sent an unexpected jolt through Y/N, a spark that felt electric. Surprised and thrilled by the sensation, she instinctively reached for his bicep, feeling the solid muscle under her hand, and linked her other arm around his. The gesture was intimate, natural, and it seemed to anchor them both amidst the sea of people.

Spencer, who was so often touch-starved and reserved in his physical interactions, felt a warm thrill at her touch. His heart raced slightly, a pleasant buzz of excitement coursing through him. The feeling of her hand on his arm, her body close to his, was unexpectedly comforting and exhilarating. It was a simple gesture, but to Spencer, it felt significant, a physical affirmation of the connection they’d been building all day.

As they walked on, navigating the streets of New York toward the restaurant, Spencer felt a sense of contentment wash over him. Y/N’s presence at his side, the way she fit naturally into his space, made the city around them fade into a soft background. He found himself hoping that the evening would stretch on, reluctant to let go of the moment.

The walk to the restaurant became a leisurely stroll, each step taking them deeper into a shared comfort. They talked easily, laughter mingling with the city sounds, the initial spark at their contact evolving into a steady, warm glow. By the time they reached the restaurant, Spencer and Y/N were closer than ever, both physically and emotionally, eager to continue their evening together.

At the restaurant, the atmosphere was imbued with a sense of romance and intimacy, exactly the kind of place Spencer remembered and hoped would impress Y/N. The lighting was low and warm, casting soft shadows around the room and illuminating the tables with a gentle glow from the candles placed on each one. These candles, unscented and subtle, added a touch of elegance without overwhelming the senses. In the background, a live band played soft, sensual music, their melodies weaving through the conversations and enhancing the romantic vibe of the evening.

They were seated in an intimate curved booth that offered both privacy and comfort, allowing them to share each other's space effortlessly. It was cozy but spacious enough to not feel crowded, perfect for leaning in close and sharing quiet conversations.

Following the waiter's prompt, both Spencer and Y/N opted for red wine, a decision made easier by the fact that neither of them needed to drive back. As they sipped their wine, the rich, bold flavors seemed to deepen the already warm atmosphere, loosening inhibitions slightly.

Y/N, feeling the effects of the wine which always tended to make her feel a bit more daring, turned her full attention to Spencer. She smiled at him, her eyes twinkling with a mischievous light. “You know, I’ve been thinking,” she began in a slightly lower, flirtatious tone, “about how someone as smart as you, with all those facts in his head, must have some hidden talents I’ve yet to discover.”

Spencer, usually more reserved, felt a rush of boldness fueled by the wine and the undeniable chemistry between them. He returned her smile with one of his own, this one tinged with a newfound confidence. “Well, I might have a few surprises left,” he replied, his voice deeper than usual. “But I’m more interested in exploring what makes you... you. Besides, I find myself wanting to know all about your talents, hidden or otherwise.”

Y/N was pleasantly surprised by his reciprocation, the boldness of his words matching her own flirtatious energy. She leaned in closer, lowering her voice to match the intimacy of their booth. “Is that so? Well, I might just have to reveal a few secrets tonight,” she teased, her hand reaching under the table to lightly touch his leg.

The contact sent a thrill through Spencer, and he didn’t pull away. Instead, he welcomed it, letting her hand linger on him. The conversation shifted seamlessly from playful banter to deeper, more personal topics. They talked about their hopes, their fears, and the excitement of new experiences. Spencer found himself opening up more than he usually would, driven by the genuine interest Y/N showed in every word he said.

As the evening progressed, their connection deepened, bolstered by the wine and the enchanting setting. The music from the live band seemed to wrap around them, a soundtrack to the unfolding intimacy. Laughter and shared confidences filled their booth, the rest of the world fading into a distant murmur. For both Spencer and Y/N, the night was shaping up to be more enchanting than they had anticipated, each moment pulling them closer into a mutual fascination that promised only to grow.

As the train whisked them back towards home, the rhythm of the rails seemed to echo the residual buzz of the evening’s wine. Both Spencer and Y/N choose seats next to each other this time, their shoulders occasionally brushing in a comfortable, familiar manner. The closeness felt natural after the evening they had shared. They were both visibly tired, the excitement of the day and the indulgence in wine having drawn a gentle fatigue from them.

Despite the weariness, their conversation continued to flow smoothly, albeit with a quieter, more reflective tone than before. They leaned into each other slightly, the warmth between them palpable in the cool air of the train compartment.

“So, you’re a Doctor Who fan too?” Spencer asked, a hint of surprise and delight coloring his voice as they discovered yet another common interest.

“Yes, absolutely,” Y/N responded with a smile, her eyes lighting up. “I’ve been hooked since I was a kid. There’s just something about the Doctor’s adventures through time and space that’s captivating.”

Spencer nodded enthusiastically, his own fondness for the show sparking further attraction towards her. “I totally agree. It’s the blend of science fiction and deep moral questions that gets me. Plus, the Doctor is a great character—always changing, yet fundamentally the same.”

Their shared enthusiasm for the show spun off into a deeper discussion about their favorite episodes and Doctors, each reference pulling them closer in mutual geekdom. It was during this exchange that Spencer found himself making a spontaneous invitation, surprising even himself with his forwardness.

“You know, if you’re up for it, maybe you could come over sometime and we could watch a few episodes together? I have a pretty decent setup for a Doctor Who marathon,” Spencer suggested, his voice a mix of casual and hopeful.

Y/N’s smile broadened, and she nodded, her heart warmed by the invitation. “I’d love that. It sounds like a perfect plan.”

The ease with which they continued to talk about everything from favorite books to music showed how compatible they were, not just on a surface level but in deeper, more meaningful ways. Their laughter and shared looks filled the space around them, creating an intimate bubble even in the public setting of the train.

As the train neared their destination, both Spencer and Y/N felt a reluctance for the night to end—a sign of the significant connection they had forged. They exchanged sleepy smiles and soft words as the city lights began to grow brighter outside the train windows.

By the time the train pulled into the station, Spencer felt a sense of anticipation for their next meeting. Having Y/N in his apartment, a space he had never shared with a romantic interest before, felt like a big step, but it was one he was now eagerly looking forward to. The night had started as a hopeful date and had blossomed into the beginning of something truly special. As they stepped off the train, their hands found each other almost instinctively, a fitting end to a perfect day and the promise of more to come.

After exiting the train station, Spencer insisted on walking Y/N back to her apartment, citing crime statistics that painted a stark picture of the risks women faced when walking alone at night. Though the mood was light and jovial from their shared experiences of the day, his protective nature was evident, and Y/N appreciated his concern. 

The walk to her apartment was filled with light conversation and reflective pauses, both savoring the last few moments together. The city at night provided a beautifully lit backdrop, with street lamps casting soft glows on the sidewalks and the distant sounds of the city nightlife buzzing around them. Their fingers slotted together providing enough warmth to keep fires blazing within them both.

Upon reaching her apartment building, a comfortable silence fell over them as they stood at her doorstep, reluctant to end the evening. "Thank you, Spencer," Y/N said, her voice warm and sincere. "Today was amazing. Truly."

Spencer, his hands now shoved awkwardly into his pockets, nodded, his face showing a mixture of happiness and the usual nervousness that came when he was unsure of what to do next. "I had a great time too, Y/N. I'm glad you enjoyed it. Thank you for going with me."

Sensing his apprehension and wanting to ease his nerves, Y/N stepped closer and, on an impulse, kissed his cheek gently. "Goodnight, Spencer," she smiled, her eyes holding his gaze for a moment longer than necessary.

Spencer's face turned a deeper shade of red, his mouth gaping not unlike a fish before he managed a bashful, "Goodnight, Y/N." As she turned to enter her building, Spencer stood rooted to the spot for a few seconds, a hand reflexively touching the spot on his cheek where her lips had been.

He finally uprooted his feet and hailed a cab to take him home, his mind replaying every moment of the day and the evening, but especially that last, unexpected kiss on his cheek. He was absolutely buzzing with a mix of elation and disbelief. As the city lights passed by the cab's window, he couldn't keep the grin off his face, feeling an excitement he hadn't known in a long time.

Meanwhile, Y/N, after closing the door to her apartment, immediately dialed her mom. The time difference meant it was still early where her mom lived, and she knew she’d be awake. As soon as her mom answered, Y/N gushed, "Mom, I had the best date tonight. You remember I told you about Spencer from the FBI? It was with him."

Her mom's voice, hilarious and encouraging, came through the phone. "Tell me about it! But leave out the gory details."

“Mom!” Y/N whined petulantly but did as she asked anyway—she recounted every detail from the Met visit to the candlelit dinner and the casual yet intimate conversations they had shared. She described how considerate Spencer had been, walking her home and the protective reasons behind it, and she didn’t leave out the part about the kiss on the cheek that had left her feeling a pleasant flutter in her stomach.

"Mom, he’s different, really thoughtful and so smart. I think this could be something special," Y/N admitted, her voice a mixture of hope and a bit of wonder.

Her mom's reply was full of the usual maternal optimism and caution, "Just take it one step at a time. But he sounds wonderful. I’m happy for you."

Hanging up the phone, Y/N felt a contentment settle over her. The night had been perfect, and now, sharing it had made it feel even more real. As she got ready for bed, the memories of the evening played back in her mind, each one a promise of potential tomorrows.

— 

Sunday morning came too early for Y/N, her sleep interrupted by a loud banging on her apartment door. Disoriented and a bit alarmed, she pulled herself from the warmth of her bed, wondering who could be at her door at such an early hour. She wasn't expecting anyone, and the unexpected noise had her heart racing slightly as she approached the door.

Living in the city had taught Y/N to be cautious, but she also knew that only a select few knew her address—now Spencer and the Hotchners. With a mix of confusion and caution, she tiptoed to the door and peered through the peephole.

To her surprise and immediate relief, it was Penelope Garcia standing outside, her bright and colorful attire unmistakable even through the distorted view of the peephole. Penelope was holding a large carrier with what looked like coffee and pastries—a peace offering or perhaps a bribe for an early morning intrusion.

Y/N opened the door, her expression a mix of amusement and mock annoyance. "Penelope, what are you doing here this early?" she asked, though her tone was light and welcoming.

Penelope's face lit up with an excited grin, and she practically bounced on the spot. "Girl talk time! I brought reinforcements," she said, lifting the carrier slightly to emphasize the coffee and pastries. "I may or may not have used my magical database skills to find your address. I couldn't wait to hear all about your date with Spencer!"

Y/N couldn't help but laugh, shaking her head as she stepped aside to let Penelope into her apartment. "You're impossible," she said fondly. "But since you come bearing caffeine and carbs, I suppose I can forgive you."

Once inside, Penelope set the treats on the kitchen counter and turned to Y/N with wide, expectant eyes. "So? Tell me everything! Was it as magical as you hoped? Give me all the details!"

As Y/N poured them both coffee, she started recounting the events of the previous evening—from the walk through the Met to the candlelit dinner and the charming walk home. Penelope listened intently, occasionally interjecting with excited squeals or empathetic nods.

Y/N shared how comfortable she felt with Spencer, how their conversations flowed naturally, and how he made her laugh. She even blushed a bit when mentioning the protective gesture he made and the cheek kiss that ended the night.

Penelope was thrilled with every detail, her enthusiasm making Y/N relive the joy of the date all over again. "Spencer really likes you, you know," Penelope said with a knowing smile. "He even texted me because he had to tell someone how great the date went."

Hearing this, Y/N felt a warmth spread through her, her smile broadening. That man is just too sweet, I want to eat him up. 

[yannaryartside]

I am tired of Sydney being a “knight in shining armor” for these immature men

The trailer of s3 made me reflect on a big problem with the show for me so far. The use of Sydney on the plot overall and in the character arcs of men. This is a rant, if you happen to be on the side of the fandom that think these men are perfect and Syd is valued as their support, feel free to scroll.

Part 1: the woman

Sydney Adamu is insecure on her leader/social skills and her creative habilities. That, and her kindness, is what makes the audience root for her. She is releatable but most important she is real, she has taken it impulse by impulse, creating on the fly ways to succeed in a industry not very welcoming to people with her personality (or that look like her). All of that makes sense in a story of an underdog.

But yet, the show has normalized at this point how much shit she takes from a group of really emotionally immature people. And how much they expect her to figure it out answers to the problems that they themselves cause.

Thinking about it like an animal getting into a new pack without the capacity to defend herself from any attack. The shitshow she tolerated in s1 has never been properly addressed and it seems like the worst storm is yet to come in s3. She fixed the logistics of the beef and implemented a hierarchy. Things that Carmy was incapable of doing due to his story with the staff and his own mental turmoil. In s2, she was the only professional chef actively making decisions and efforts in the future of the restaurant. Carmy even reprimanded her for not making the decisions he was supposed to do. And she reminded him “you wanted the final say, this is on you)

Syd is not helpless in any way, but she has applied kindness and fairness most of the time to this point, and I wonder if this time that is gonna cut it. I am mostly tired to get her back to that scenario again. If anything, the part that got me the most excited of Richie’s redemption is how she could actually rely on him. And then it came the trailer.

Part 2: the men

The part that got my blood boiling in the trailer is the response “Show me a functional one” from Richie and Carmy.

We are in season 3, and with all the growth and all those balls, these men seem to expect her to fix an issue, wich core is actually their own emotional immaturity. I am sick of it. “Mother, maid, therapist”🎶

She must deal with Carmy’s recklessness and the fight between him and Richie. A very green new staff and a unqualified old staff mostly. All of that creates the dysfunctionality in question, and I wonder where her character will go to resolve it. The restaurant had a shaky base (particularly on front house staff and line cooks) and now Carmy is getting on everyone’s nerves. Putting fire to an already unstable chemical.

Part 3: Heroine’s Journey

It would take a pro to resolve all of this shit, and the people involved (and responsible for the problem) turn to this young, inexperienced woman for guidance and answers because the only person in the kitchen with actual industry experience is trapped in his own destroying tendencies.

That is not only the underdog story that is human vs forces of nature, another common plot structure. Forces of nature incarnated in unstable men and our hero is a woman. That is so fucked up and yet so real. That is the value I give to this scenario.

I really don't think that, besides Tina and Nat, there is a single member if that kitchen aware of how much Syd was alone last season picking Carmy’s slack. And even they were barely able to help her. Everybody else was to happy for Carmy loosing his virginity apparently. All this scenario could very well repeat itself this season on how much they are insisting on Claire and Carmy getting back together.

I know the show is about leaving toxic cycles and the people who can help you get better. Sydney is supposed to be made from a different matter than the Bearzattos because otherwise, the toxicity will continue. I just wish she could coldly let them know how much of a pest they can be sometimes. And not be treated as unfair because she left her “role” in creating a new system. Anger is boundarie setting emotion and it can be very constructive, and expressed without the chaos of the Bearzattos. She did this in s1 and if done again I think this time the general audience (except the racist/misogynistic obviously) will understand that this tough love is necessary as well.

Let's not normalize (in this show) women taking shit to be good women and a reward for seeing the potential of men. It is not like society is not doing that for us already.

Sydney is not a punching bag, and she knows it, she definitely will stand her ground this season, wich can be very encouraging to young woman entering a workforce that is not designed to support them. I think she will go to Ember to work closely with Chef Terry (Olivia Coleman) to get knowledge of how women can shape this toxic places. It will be her version of forks. The toxicity may escalate to a turning point for her. She tolerated (and transformed) s1 and s2, we know what is in her heart. The point will definitely come, because this is the time for evolving or dying, for everyone.

But again, I need these men (besides you, Marcus, you are going to be her rock) to start taking responsibility for the shit they are fucking up. That would be nice. I am sure there will be moments of it since this growth is literally the show's theme. I am just kind of tired of the “Mother, maid, therapist🎶” undertone of it all. It could be applied to Nat and Tina as well.

[ubtendo]

BRIGGSBEK BRIGGSBEK BRIGGSBEK MY BELOVEDDDDDD

May I propose - Torbek having a cultivated love of insects and lil buggy babies bc they were a constant of his growing up. Briggsy is simply enchanted when Torbek basically infodumps about them.

The good captain basically takes a mental screenshot every time Torbek shows off a new, interesting lil bug bc A) Cute Bugbear, B) Happy Bugbear, and C) he too likes bugs well enough.

((Bonus points, a lot of pet names for Torbek from Briggsy are bug related bc Torbek Loves Bugs and is also a BUGbear it's funny and ironic and Torbek gets so cute and flustered with every single one))

I see that I've become a pilgrimage point for you all to share your Briggsbek headcanons, WELL JOKES ON YOU FRIENDS I LOVE THEM AND I LOVE YOU ALL FOR PUTTING THEM INTO MY INBOX PLEASE DON'T STOP

You can NOT just give that headcanon to some who loves bugs with all her heart, anon I love you

But my love for bugs aside

YES

Somehow, bugs are just drawn to Torbek, and I'm not saying like there are flys or something cartoonish ly flying around him, I mean they sort of randomly crawl beside him and he just picks them up and the bugs surprisingly don't seem to bothered by it. He has no education on that topic and everything he knows about bugs and insects he either found out by himself or overhead someone talking (since I believe it's cannon that Torbek either can't read / isn't good at reading)

And Briggsy, being an undead, rotting corpse had his fair share on experience with insects like maggots (and bees if you know you know), I'd say at first he'd be uneasy when Torbek talks about them and he just listens because it makes him happy.

But than he starts to enjoy the company of the random insects and their sounds (you ever heard how loud bugs are when they fly, especially ones that aren't really supposed to? The loud buzz and rumble would remind him of Torbeks voice) and the way some of them are shiny (I'll still be going with that Briggsy is more than less visually impaired, he wouldn't be able to see much - I'd say he has cataracts - and anything shiny and illuminated looks very intense to him)

And I'm bad at nicknames and I don't think that either Briggsy or Torbek would know this but I think Briggsy calling Torbek Atlas (the biggest bug in the world - seeing how Torbek is giant and it also gives off a pirate-y kind of vibe?) or Wooly (based on Wooly bears, the cateepiller stage of Tiger moths - look it doesn't make sense now but they are those cute black and brown caterpillars and they are semi big, and they aren't venomous but don't touch them still - JUST LOOK THEM UP THEY'RE SUPER CUTE) but yeah, not great with nicknames, if anyone has a better one

[heliads]

hii! i've been reading a lot of your four fics and i simply need more so here's my requestt, four x dauntless!reader and when she's going into the fear simulation she got scared of the needle so he calm her down. any pronoun is fine and if you don't wanna write it it's also fine lol, so no pressure. tysm i adore you!

y/n is so me for being scared of the needle

masterlist

Most people are scared of what is about to come. This is unusual– not that people would ever feel fear, just that they would show it. This is Dauntless, after all, the place kids born without inhibitions go for cheap thrills and a superiority complex. No one here likes to give off any indication of terror if they could avoid it.

This is different, though. This isn’t another day of Phase One initiation where you’re jumping over the sides of buildings or throwing a few punches. Those are tests, you know how to pass those. The fear landscape, however? Now that’s something no one has any clue how to handle.

The mystery surrounding it all just makes the whole experience worse. Even the few initiates amongst your numbers who’ve managed to win over some older Dauntless can’t glean a single piece of information from their already established compatriots about what you’re going to encounter in the simulations. It’s all in your head, literally. There are no limits to the nightmares your own brain can dream up.

Thus the first afternoon of Phase Two of Dauntless initiation finds a hallway lined with apprehensive trainees all waiting for their turn in the simulation. A couple of rooms are being used for fear landscapes at the moment, so there’s a slow trickle of traumatized initiates coming out of shadowy doors every few minutes or so. Some trainees take longer than others. Some are in there so long you half doubt if they’ll ever come out. All emerge looking like they’ve just had their heart ripped out of their chests.

The screams don’t make the waiting any easier, either. Every now and then, a shrill cry of terror will issue out from one of the locked doors, a clear hallmark of the mental warfare going on inside. In the beginning, everyone would jump the second they heard a muffled yell down the corridor, but hours have passed and fraught tempers have grown weary. Now all you do is sigh to yourselves whenever another victim screams, wondering how much longer you’ll have to put up with all of this before it’s your turn instead.

Waiting is only just that, though, waiting for some grander goal, and at some point, your time of waiting is done. A scared looking boy exits the door on the left, clutching his hands as if searching for wounds that aren’t there, and then your name is called instead. It takes a moment to get up, your body lagging half a second behind your brain, and then you’re out of your chair and down the hall before you even know what’s happening.

There isn’t much time to think between hearing your name and closing the door behind you. You look up and realize the room looks quite similar to the place you did your simulation prior to the Choosing Ceremony. At least there are no new threats. The only change from before is that, instead of some wary looking woman with sleeves pulled low over tattoos, you’re greeted with the sight of one of the initiation leaders. Four.

You can’t help feeling a slight rush of relief. Of anyone here delivering your test, you’d much rather have Four than, say, Eric Coulter. Four is just as intimidating, of course, but Eric’s got this way of making you uneasy. He’s too cruel. At least Four can be counted on to be fair.

Four gestures towards the chair in the center of the room. “Take a seat. Are you ready for this?”

You arch a brow as you settle yourself into an uncomfortable reclined position on the seat. “Was there a chance you’d let me out if I said no?”

Four might chuckle, either that or he was struck by an urgent need to cough. “No, there wasn’t.”

He disappears somewhere behind the range of your peripheral vision and emerges a few moments later holding a needle. It looks highly unpleasant, the metal gleaming in the dim light of the simulation room as if proof of how much this is going to hurt. This is Dauntless, however; this is not a place where you can afford to wince or shrink away from anything lest you see your rankings drop in a second.

You force yourself to stay calm, training your eyes on a bright red light on some machinery across the room instead of the needle puncturing your skin. The moment seems to last forever, and just as you’re certain that the simulation didn’t take, you blink and you’re no longer in Dauntless. In fact, you’re in the middle of nowhere, a broken down city where the wind whistling through shell-shocked skyscrapers sounds more like the howling of people than any tune of quickly moving air.

This is your fear landscape, then. It takes you a few minutes to struggle through that fear, and then you’re successively hit by a few you expected and some you didn’t, too. Hopefully, you’re making good progress, but there is no way to tell for sure. In fact, it’s hard to even remember that you’re in a simulation at all. The programming is too strong, too good at eliciting a fear response from your brain.

You defeat what you thought might be your last fear and find yourself in the simulation room again. Four is still standing over you, needle in hand.

“That didn’t take,” he said, “you’re going to have to go through again.”

He holds out the needle, which seems much sharper than before. This time, blood wells up when he injects you, and every second seems to stretch into hours. There is no light to stare at this time, and your eyes keep finding the needle again and again, no matter how hard you try otherwise. Your fingers clench into fists so long that you can feel your nails slice through your palms. Forcing your breathing to slow and steady, you inhale, exhale, inhale until you look up and Four is nowhere to be seen. The truth about being in a simulation comes crashing back to you, and you realize you must have finally woken up. 

Four walks back to you, brow furrowed. You wince at his expression, taking that to mean that you must not have done too well. It had felt like you weren’t struggling with your fears all that much, but maybe you were wrong.

“How did I do?” You ask tentatively.

Four shakes his head dismissively. “Fine, fine. Solidly above the average, it’ll keep your ranking where it is if not improve it. I just want to ask about your last fear.”

You feel the sudden need to look away. “I faced it, right? No problems there.”

“Yeah, you faced it,” he frowns, “but it made no sense. Are you scared of the fear landscape? Of me?”

You’re not sure if you want to laugh or run from the room. Both feel like solid options at the moment. “No, neither. I’m, uh–” You pause, trying and failing to muster up the energy to finish the sentence, then give up at last and spill your secret. “I’m afraid of needles.”

Four blinks at you in surprise, then laughs for real this time. He does his best to cover it up, of course, but he’s still unable to fight a grin.

You glare pointedly at him. “Thanks for the support. No need to make me feel like any more of an idiot.”

The corners of Four’s lips still stubbornly refuse to tamp themselves down into his typical stony expression. “Sorry, I swear. It’s just– needles? Really? This is Dauntless. You’ve done so many simulations. You’ll probably get tattoos. Needles are everywhere, and you came here?”

You give him a look. “There are other things to Dauntless than just needles, Four. I thought you would know that having, you know, lived here? Go make fun of some other guy’s simulation, mine is perfectly fine.”

“Well, you’re definitely not scared of me,” Four observes, “Still, it’s funny. Anyway, you’re right, I shouldn’t laugh. You’re free to go.”

Despite his solemn expression, his eyes are still twinkling with barely disguised mirth. You fight the urge to roll your eyes and let yourself out. Four’s voice rings out behind you, calling the name of the next victim of the fear landscape.

You don’t think you had that bad of a time of it, though. Sure, the simulation itself wasn’t the best of experiences, but what happened afterwards made all of the terror of it fade away somehow, slipping back into distant memory already. When you think about the fear landscape, you don’t recall the horrors of being inside your worst nightmares, just the way Four tilts his head back when he laughs, how easy it was for his cold demeanor to warm when he smiled at you.

Perhaps that is not why you view the second trial of the fear landscapes with as much dread as anyone else. Your friends are all huddled together with haunted expressions at the mere thought of returning, but you’re actually doing alright. Your spirits are only improved when Four calls your name again instead of Eric, and then you’re back in the simulation room and he’s smiling again.

It’s much easier for Four to revert back to that same state of good spirits. He hardly bothers with an initial glower at the beginning, already looking pleased to see you. It makes you wonder why 

Four holds up the simulation needle with a teasing expression on his face and you give him a sour look. “Don’t even,” you begin, and he holds up his free hand in mock surrender.

“I wouldn’t dare,” he assures you.

This time, Four pauses when he goes to inject you. He takes a seat on the side of the reclined chair, studying your expression for any sign of hesitation.

“Look at me,” he tells you, “not the needle, me. I know you’re going to be fine.”

Something about the way he says it, so confident in your abilities despite only having seen you go through the fear landscape once, erases the last of the worries from your brow. You settle back into the chair, and you swear that this time, the simulation doesn’t take nearly as long to kick up. The needle has hardly pierced your skin before you’re gone from this world and into the one devised by your mind. The last sight you see is Four leaning over you, and that’s the one greeting you when you wake up, too.

The simulations aren’t so bad after that. Part of that is because it’s hard to feel as scared when you know you have Four there on the other side, a calm presence believing in you every time. The two of you start talking more and more during your simulation time slots, and as you progress through the fear landscapes faster, your conversations grow in turn. 

One time, the numbers of initiates were swapped around a little as trainees dropped out and you had to do your fear landscape with Eric proctoring instead. You still got through it just fine, but the experience wasn’t nearly as enjoyable. You were with Four the next time, though. There were rumors that Four had complained and switched the order back to the way it was, but no one knows why. You have a theory, but you don’t dare bring it up to anyone else.

Soon enough, you’ve reached the end of Phase Two of training. After that, graduation from initiation is upon you, and you find yourself walking out of your final simulation with a glowing score. Your ranking is great, high enough that you should have no problem finding the job you want. It’s certainly the best outcome you could have hoped for, but somehow you still find yourself a little bittersweet that certain things will come to an end.

Four finds you later that night, standing at a railing looking over the bustling view of the Dauntless complex below. Everyone is active in some way, throwing parties to welcome in the new initiates or hurrying to tamp down their normal lives before everything is thrown into commotion by a new round of Dauntless jumping into the thick of things.

“You’re not celebrating?” He asks by way of greeting.

You lift a shoulder. “I will. I want to take a moment before all that, though. Just to reflect on it all. Initiation was hard.”

“Didn’t seem that way for you,” Four muses, “you were good the whole way through.”

“Even despite the simulations being my literal greatest fear?” You laugh.

Four smiles, but it’s quieter, more serious. “Even then. This was all you, Y/N. I was there, but it was you.”

You exhale slowly, look back over the city that might be yours more than you ever thought possible. “And now that it’s over? Will you still be there?”

You don’t dare to so much as glance at him lest you see yourself disappointed, but out of the corner of your eye, you can detect movement, Four turning to survey Dauntless as well. “I will be,” he decides at last, “I think I will.”

divergent tag list: @rogueanschel, @with-inked-solace, @gods-fools-heroes, @23victoria, @manyfandomsfanvergent, @ilovexavierthrope, @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed

[californiannostalgia]

Processing identity as a child abuse survivor

Recently I had a huge revelation. Come with me on this childhood trauma realization journey (if you want).

This post was written for those wavering on the 'was it abuse' question.

Fair warning, each of these revelations were a whammy. I recommend you keep in mind that these revelations will transform the way you see yourself and the world. This took me out of commission for hours at a time.

Revelation 1: Was I Abused?

Read this Tumblr post. Go down the list. Check the 'yes'es and 'maybe's.

'Was I abused' is a yes or no question. I need you to really think about this if your answer is 'kind of'. If you could be truly honest with yourself, what would your answer be?

For years I've gone to the logic of 'it wasn't that bad,' and 'at least the worst didn't happen,' or 'others have had it worse'. This is such a low bar. You deserve better than the bar your parents set for you. The socioeconomic circumstances and the normalization of violence in your living area? Yes, influential. But not a justification.

At the end of the day, the veracity of these statements don't even matter. It's a yes or no question: 'Am I a survivor of child abuse?'

It may take a really long time to truly process, and even then it might feel uncomfortable saying it like it's truth. I need you to know your truth is truth. It's a yes or no question.

Take a break. I recommend you don't progress further until you've processed Revelation 1.

(Shameless plug-in of my fandom blorbo interests: Rick Riordan's Trials of Apollo series really helped me with this first revelation. It made me feel seen and less alone. It may not be perfect, but I personally liked it!)

Revelation 2: What does this mean? (health-wise)

Listen to this Ted Talk by an expert (medical professional).

This is the part where I got angry and really fucking sad. Let yourself be sad. Let yourself be furious. Our life is not our fault and we're still stuck with this lot.

Genuinely this was such a shock for me to realize. The thing that has the biggest impact on my life is not my anxiety, depression, ptsd, insomnia, blood pressure, immune health, etc. The root cause of my physical and mental illnesses is Adverse Childhood Experiences.

ACE is more common than you'd think. Acknowledging that what happened to you was bad will be beneficial to humanity's survival in the long run. Like any illness, ACE can be fought at a societal level.

Take a break. I recommend you don't progress to the next revelation until you've processed Revelation 2.

Take your time to be angry and sad. Take forever. You never have to forgive your abuser, even if they change their behavior. The chance at a civil acquaintanceship you might be willing to extend to your parents doesn't require your forgiveness.

.

Revelation 3: Why is your therapist recommending you retell your life story?

This one is mostly for when you have steady access to a therapist. Here are some things I wish I'd known before seeking out therapy in the US.

(Is it shitty that you can't get therapy on your own terms when you're underage? Yes, it fucking is. To those of us who survived to adulthood: holy shit y'all. At 19 I felt like absolute fucking bullshit, like my brain was a burning ball of tangled barbed wire. It does feel absolutely shitty. But reaching 19 is an achievement.)

The thing is, I do or say a lot of things that I later come to think of as embarrassing, inappropriate, or in certain circumstances, potentially abusive. Genuine trigger reactions happen. I will always have to live with a piece of my parents in my head. But I don't want to do to another person what they did to me. Self-awareness is what separates me from my abusers.

What to do about this? Number 1: chill out. You're not gonna be your abuser. Humans are unique and imperfect. They have not replicated themselves in you. It's okay to make mistakes when you're talking or reacting. Your brain is fucked up. You can do something differently next time.

Number 2: read this article about Overthinking, Over-apologizing, Oversharing, and Overwhelmed as trauma responses.

Then read this article on how to deal with Unresolved Trauma.

Yeah. It be like that. Isn't it fucked up? Recognizing the four Os in my behavior helped me realize I'm not an antisocial asshole by default.

Unresolved trauma is the root cause for my behaviors that I think of as unhealthy. This revelation happened very recently for me. Before this point in time, I couldn't understand why I would want to recount traumatic events in therapy.

At this point in time, I have regular access to a therapist I'm okay with. Going over memories and deconstructing the blame system seems like a reasonable thing to try.

What happened to you as a child is not your fault. You're not the one who landed yourself in your life. You've been given an unfairly difficult situation to be responsible for. You did not create your coping mechanisms for shits and giggles.

So yeah. Number 3: figure out your life with the help of a therapist. Let's see where we are ten years later or something.

Nothing is easy and everything is confusing. Take a break, hydrate, eat, sleep, do something nice for yourself. Do something you like doing. Thanks for reading.

[linkspooky]

Jujutsu Kaisen, Chapter 230 Thoughts.

I've been skipping my weekly thoughts posts on the last few chapters, because most of the chapters is explaining fight mechanics. However, Megumi showed up again and as someone with a severe case of Megumi-itis let's talk about him, what the possible consequences for taking Unlimited Void could be and where his character might go after this fight.

1. Megumi's Soul

The slow corruption of Megumi's soul has been a running theme ever since Sukuna took his body. The first thing he did after taking that body was descend and soak into a literal bath of evil in order to subemerge Megumi's soul further. Ura-me even describes it as "Being near evil."

Immediately afterwards, Sukuna uses Megumi's body to murder his sister. Making sure to only use Ten Shadows techniques the entire fight, so Megumi will feel that he killed his sister with his own hands. Megumi is someone helpless to watch as he experiences the same thing Sukuna does to Yuji in shibuya, taking his own body from him, using his hands to kill others, and leaving Yuji with the guilt of being a murderer because he was too weak to fight back.

Tsumiki is a character who when she is first mentioned in the manga, drawn with white lilies, the symbol of purity. She is also, in Megumi's eyes a character without flaws, who's only bad trait is worrying about him too much, his example of a good person he wants to save the only person besides that sharing that category being Yuji. (I stole this from @theanimepsychologist)

She's not just associated with purity through those flowers, she's a symbol of purity TO MEGUMI. She is the model example of a good person, Megumi even says his entire goal in life is to make the world more fair so good people such as his sister shouldn't have to suffer.

When Sukuna talks about his desire to destroy Tsumiki, those same white lilies are in the background ripped apart. Not only that, her body is shown to be naked in a compromising position. Gege's not the most subtle person in the world, so it's pretty clear symbolism when a man talks about how he wants to violently destroy a woman and she's drawn naked like this, like I don't think Sukuna intended that but symbolically it's the destruction of her purity.

Megumi doesn't see himself as good, he sees Tsumiki as a good person he wants to protect, and also basically the only family member / support in his life, and Sukuna rips her apart right in front of Megumi's eyes. Megumi's been exposed to evil, and had his closest loved one slaughtered. Not only that, his entire reason for being a sorcerer in the first place. Not to give himself a happy life or because he wanted to do it, but because if he didn't do it Tsumiki had no chance at being happy in the Zen'in Household.

It's not just Tsumiki that's crushed, it's his entire reason for living so far, it's the implied promise of protection that Gojo gave him that if he chose to follow him that Tsumiki would have a better life.

Even if Gojo manages to save Megumi from Sukuna's possession, mentally he's been pushed past the point of no return there's no way he's coming out of this alright.

That is, if Gojo is even making that much of an effort to save him.

Now, it may turn out that Gojo had a method planned of getting Megumi back from Sukuna all along. He does seem to imply he believes that if he does enough damage to Sukuna's body, the same way that Sukuna ripped Yuji's heart out and gained back control he'll force Sukuna to switch control again. But!

Even if that's his intention, I think there's some clear symbolism in how it was Megumi's "Soul" that was targeted by the Unlimited Void.

Forget Gojo's announcing to Sukuna that he has no compunctions about beating up Megumi because he looks like Toji. Forget the casual mention of crushing Megumi's entire body in the process of trying to finish the fight. Barring all of that, there's still a noticable lack of concern for how Megumi as Gojo is completely wrapped up in the fight against Sukuna. Because this is how Gojo's mind works, he is the strongest sorcerer so everything cn be solved with a battle of physical strength. Gojo is opposing Sukuna, and yet his philosophy is pretty much the same as Sukuna's.

Sukuna the person who stole Megumi's body, is fighting against Gojo the person who essentially stole Megumi's childhood, by taking him in to Jujutsu High under the guise of "Helping Him" but giving him little choice of what to do with his life. Either he becomes a sorcerer, or they give him no money and they starve, or they get sent to the Zen'in who will probably abuse Tsumiki.

There's something deeply ironic about Gojo bragging about how his students are watching him so he has to look cool, which shows the smiling faces of several of the Tokyo High kids, contrasted to how he's treated Megumi this entire fight and shown little concern for his well-being.

Megumi the person who he should really feel the most responsible for, because Gojo went out of his way to recruit him to Jujutsu High at like age five.

So, of course Gojo's strongest domain expansion attack hits Megumi instead of Sukuna, because the entire time Gojo's practically had no problem using Megumi as a punching bag, because he has to seize a more important objective which is defeating Sukuna for the safety of the world.

Now here's where the Megumi corruption arc truthers get excited. Do you think Megumi will really emerge from his possession okay after not only losing his body, bathing in evil, killing Tsumiki therefore breaking his promise of protection and Gojo's as well, and then being exposed to the unlimited void by Gojo which fills people's head with so much information it breaks their brain.

Megumi's clearly waking up after being hit with the void, but there's almost no chance of him waking up and going back to normal.

Megumi is a shadow character, much like Geto he's not only been shown on multiple occasions to repress his feelings over the entire course of the manga, (basically a long-form version of Geto's slow decline) he also on multiple ocasions as shown a more violent side.

Geto's arc even revolves around him questioning if weak people are even worth protecting, and then struggling against his inability to protect his fellow sorcerers who are continually sacrificed in protection of those weak people. Geto is overwhelmed by the weight of responsibility that sorcerers carry. Much like Megumi who has stated on multiple occasions, he doesn't want to be a hero, he doesn't feel obligated to save people. The two people he wants to save, Tsumiki and Yuji are however people he's failed to save. Riko is a clear parallel to Tsumiki. Tsumiki is even ripped away from Megumi the moment he thinks that he's saved her from the culling games, the same way that just as Geto promised that him and Gojo would be able to protect her, she's shot in the head by Toji.

If you're a Megumi corruption arc truther, than it's been a long time coming. Let's look at the characters he parallels in the manga, Maki (became a mass murderer after her sister died), Geto (also became a mass murderer when he lost faith in the idea that sorcerers are duty bound to protect the weak, which started when he failed to save Riko), Toji (also a mass murderer).

Toji is the biggest example though, because despite Gege continually pushing the idea that Maki is the second coming of Toji (we get it already) Megumi is Toji's direct foil, Megumi's poor lot in life is a result of Toji abandoning him. Toji was rejected and abandoned by his family, and went on to do the same thing with Megumi.

As Megumi has received no support from the adults in his life, there's basically nothing stopping him from continuing that cycle. Megumi looks exactly like Toji, especially when coming out of the Evil Bath of Evil. In his more violent moments he's drawn to look like Toji with several art parallels between Megumi and the Toji in hidden inventory.

Toji's also famous for doing this to Gojo.

He's the first person to defeat the limitless and manage to put a scratch on him. Everyone said that Gojo and Megumi's drawing on the animation booklet is foreshadowing of his fight with Sukuna in Megumi's body, but what if it's not...

What if when Megumi regains control of his body and Sukuna is defeated, everything does not work out like Gojo expects it will with one epic battle. What if having been brought so close to evil, Megumi is finally corrupted all the way through. After all the Unlimited specifically hit Megumi's soul. Megumi's body might be physically saved, but his soul might be lost in the process.

We've seen multiple times that the thing which holds Megumi back from acting on his more violent impulses is the image of Tsumiki, but Tsumiki's not there anymore.

So, this is my wild theory for all the Megumi Corruption Arc conspiracy theorists out there. What if we do see Gojo win this fight against Sukuna, but when Megumi gets his body back he attacks Gojo. His body is saved but not his soul and he's finally been pushed off the edge and become his worst self.

After which, the task of saving Megumi will probably fall from Gojo to Yuji. The only person so far who's expressed any desire to save Megumi (Yuta too I guess, but him and Maki both put emphasis on saving Sukuna).

What if Megumi's line to Yuji, "Start by saving me" is actually the ultimate foreshadowing for one of the biggest fights in the series?

[zombie-bait]

Omg i just realized I have something tiny to add to the whole James Somerton debacle. I'm currently watching the hbombguy vid (as you do when procrastinating assignments) and I remembered something that stood out to me in James' old videos.

So I used to be a fan of his stuff. I am also a fan of Hannibal and IWTV. He made a video covering both so naturally I was very hyped. It was called 'The Gay Appeal of Toxic Love.' The vid itself was fine (I don't remember having any super strong opinions of it besides being excited to hear ppl mention Interview cuz I had recently become obsessed) but one thing did stand out to me. In the IWTV section he mentions Nicki and, naturally, his death:

"After becoming a vampire, Nicky becomes nearly catatonic, and eventually slips away from Lestat entirely. And after centuries of dealing with depression and severe mental illness, Nicky kills himself."

(sourced from this transcript: https://github.com/TerraJRiley/James_Somerton_Transcripts/blob/main/Transcripts/The%20Gay%20Appeal%20of%20Toxic%20Love.txt)

To anyone who's read TVL, I don't think I need to explain that Nicki had not, in fact, been around for centuries. "Nicki had lived to be 30" has been rattling around in my head since I first read it.

And like, obviously I don't expect every youtube essayist to read several long-ish novels to have a full grasp of the series' deep lore, especially when the focus was largely on IWTV and Loustat rather than the entire Vampire Chronicles. Still, it makes you wonder a bit about the quality of the research being done here. You can find the proper info in like, 5 seconds by just going on the fan wiki so I'm not sure what his sources were. And that's the issue at hand, isn't it?

At the time I felt a tiny bit smug recognizing the error but in light of everything that's been revealed, it's kind of telling. I'm not saying this part was plagiarized (I haven't found anything but others on reddit have found issues with different sections of the same video) but rereading the transcript it comes off as someone who clearly doesn't know much about Interview.... It feels like he's reading through a loose summary of plot points rather than analyzing a piece of media that actually means anything to him. It's very much Interview for people who don't know Interview which, one could argue is fair. Especially beyond book one, VC is a niche series and a lot of elements that are important to certain characters or plot lines cannot be summarized quickly for an audience unfamiliar with it. A good writer, who's done a lot of research about the specific topic they have chosen to make a video on, would be able to balance this. There is a LOT to analyze about queerness in VC and its a shame to see one of the more popular queer media channels half-assing it just to churn out videos heavily made up of other people's work. In retrospect he had several videos like that, where he would discuss things like manga/manhua communities while clearly having little knowledge on the nuance of those subjects. He was an outsider who presented himself with a strange amount of authority.

This was content created with the sole intention of propping up queer stories and history, yet it's built off stolen work from queer authors and doesn't actually care that much about exploring the communities it features. Vids like the IWTV one weren't really fact checked because it's only people like me who would might give a shit or even notice anything is off in the first place. There's a bit of a similar vibe in some of his other vids where he undermines the experiences of queer women because he clearly has not taken the time to learn about the nuances of representing queer women in media. These are things that irritated me when I first started to notice them but I put those concerns in the back of my mind because I cared about the topics he was covering and was excited to see these discussions becoming more mainstream.

The revelations of this evening have been disappointing to say the least.

(also for the record I know he made other more recent vids about IWTV but I haven't seen those and even if his account was still up I don't think I would lol

BUT

I did look at the transcript for his 'Vampires and the Gays Who Love Them' video (found from the same link I included above) and this quote about the IWTV AMC show is sending me: "Daniel has never grappled with the complexities of being gay"

Shoutout to straight, uncomplicated icon Daniel Molloy. Devil's Minion was a mass hallucination, spread the word)

[the-fab-fox]

Okay. So Imma just come out and say it.

Y'all who read fanfic. You. Need. To. Start. Commenting. On. Fics.

I have been told I'm a great writer. I've been told I'm spot-on with characterization. I've been told I'm great at making readers feel and experience what the characters are feeling and experiencing. Been told it's like the reader is in the room as everything plays out.

However, when I see that my fics have upwards of 1K hits and maybe 100-300 comments and maybe 40-100 kudos and not even hitting triple digits in the bookmarks/subscriptions to a fic... Well, what would you think in my shoes?

Most likely, if you're like me, you're thinking all kinds of negative things (especially if you have mental illness/ADHD/neurodivergency of some kind). Stuff like... Oh, those other people are just being nice (not fair to them so I try not to think this way but negative self talk doesn't play nice with me).

Or I think... Okay so they checked it out. They had to click on the fic for it to even register the hit, right? So why don't I at the very least have more kudos? That's the easiest option on there (though it's like a like on here; if you are gonna leave kudos please also leave a comment), right? So what was wrong with my fic that I don't have more kudos at least.

But then I get on here and see so many comments and reblogs on FANART (still not enough for them either though lbr). THE POINT IS... If you read a fic. If you read it and liked it, you all really need to start commenting.

It doesn't even have to be long paragraphs or quoting or any of the ✨ big comments ✨ stuff. You could leave an emoji that be showing me what my fic or update got you feeling. You can do keyboard smash. If the author asks for it, you can leave constructive criticism (but only if the author has actively asked for it; if they haven't or given you permission, then don't). You can absolutely do big comment things too.

One of my favorite type of comments to get are the quoting ones. You just copy/paste and then say what you liked about it or what it made you feel or your reaction to it. Things like that. I love when my readers tell me their fave parts in an update. Or quote a line and tell me their thoughts and feels. Just yes.

We are far too advanced in this day and age and fanfiction and fandom are wholly more accepting than it used to be but for some reason, comments and reactions have become almost non-existent compared to when I was 15. And I was... Pretty cringy in my writing back then but I can admit that. But every chapter I'd get at least 8-10 comments. A chapter!

Even earlier in my Twst series I was getting A LOT more comments and with every fic it seems to have dropped significantly.

To me, to my brain, that tells me that my writing is suddenly sucky or I lost my talent or I'm not actually as great a writer as I was told because then why aren't more people commenting.

You might try to argue and say you're shy. Do you comment on order things? Do you tack onto a reblog to put out some addition to the original post? Do you chat with people in the fandom? Do you comment on fanart?

Then what makes a fanfic any different? (This is not including smut fics because I get but necessarily wanting it tied back to you. But if you open ao3 in a browser you aren't logged into ao3 on, you can (as long as the author has allowed it) post a comment anonymously. Yeah!)

You might say oh well I don't have time to comment right now. But you had time to read the fic? You had time to reblog that shit post? You had time to comment on the tags on a fanart you really loved? Thing is, unless you want to write a long one, comments do not take that long to leave. They really don't.

If you're worried the author doesn't want to hear from you—I'll stop you right there. The author ABSOLUTELY wants to hear from you.

So now is the time to stop making excuses to be lazy. You are reading really great fan literature for free. The least you can do as a thank you and to show support is to COMMENT. ON. THE. FIC.

And if you wanna really make an author's day and help support them and their work, REC the fic. REC the Author's work list. You can do that to friends you know would like it or even better, make a post about the fics and link your recs.

It's really not that hard and we should not have to beg. Realize the blessing you have that fics you would enjoy exist for free and do your part. COMMENT.

[saylor-twift]

alright, so first off. This is my first time doing a req to a creator/author/writer I admire so much so hopefully I won't cause any confusion— ">-< but could you uhh do a wanderer x reader unrequited love? (eg: wanderer prefers someone over reader) I really want more angst to read and also with this topic. You don't have to take this request if you're not comfortable!

(❄️. SHON)

Yes yes I can!! This is such a coincidence cause I just recently made a very similar request to one of my mutuals haha. Recently I’ve lowkey had this brain rot of Wanderer having feelings for the traveler (Lumine) because i’ve been reading so much Scaralumi lmfao and it lowkey makes me kinda salty even tho i love them to death so that’s kinda the direction this will take :) Thanks so much for asking!!

side note: I’m so fking angry i literally had this whole thing proofread and totally ready like an hour and a half ago when my tumblr fucking shuts down and deletes all my work and I had already deleted it off the google doc so I could paste the version from tumblr so i had to go restore the google doc and ughhh it caused me an extra hour of work cause i had to proofread everything again. anyways, please enjoy :)

Live is to Love, as Love is to Hurt

word count: 6801

also heads up for anyone who doesn’t know, I like to refer to Wanderer as Kunimitsu cause that’s the name I gave him :)

Everyone knows, or should know at least, that when one decides to accept something, anything, that they are also agreeing to take on each and every single thing that comes with it. To look forward to the rebirth of spring means also accepting that the barren, frosty breath of winter will indeed return, turning the once lush gardens of the world into sharp, jagged blades of grass and trees devoid of green. The same is true when you decide to accept somebody into your life. You must know that no matter how benevolent and perfect to you they may seem, fate has its mishaps, and doesn’t always play a fair game. And yet there’s one more thing, one might think after learning all these things that the way they will be better off is to never take risks. And supposedly yes, maybe you won’t get hurt, but you also won’t live. Because to live is to love, to live is to hurt, to live is to heal.

This current chapter of life feels strikingly similar to one of those slice of life novels you’d expect to find at the bookstore on the corner of the street. Only it wasn’t something you read whilst sipping tea on a sunday afternoon, it’s more like the type of heart-breaking piece of literature you finish late on friday nights, the kind that leaves you restless and contemplating the rest of the weekend. Or in this case, the rest of the month. And instead of seeing yourself in the life of the main character and mourning for them as if they were your own, the one who hurts is you, and it feels like nobody from the sidelines is mourning on your behalf. It’s almost ridiculous the amount of times you’ve mentally punched yourself for being this distraught, doesn’t everybody experience heartbreak at least once in their life? Maybe they do, but not everyone feels it this hard. Not everyone devotes every single inch of love in their hearts towards one singular person, only to have it blown out like the candles on a birthday cake, because the candles of the one you love burn for somebody who isn’t you.

And maybe if you were younger, if you were less understanding, if you had less control… you would be vengeful, heart full of nothing but envy for the lovely woman whose presence has his full attention. But you’re not, because you’ve grown. You’re older, you’re wiser, you understand. You understand the kind of pain such a mindset would inflict not only on the people around you, but also yourself. It’s truly hard to feel hate for that beautiful woman. She’s ever so kind, and strong, and beautiful and perfect and everything you’ve somehow convinced yourself that you’re not. She’s never wronged you, it’s not her fault. Truthfully, it’s not anyone’s fault. But that won’t change the fact that it hurts. In fact, it maims your very soul more than any pain you could have felt before. Most people would wonder why you even felt for him in the first place if they knew the history the two of you had. Yet the answer comes clear as day. To feel such comfort around him is something that rarely comes from other people. You know you can speak your mind on a bad day without scaring him off, and he knows, you hope he knows, that you’d put up with and listen to him as much as he needed as well. You love the way you always have to stifle a laugh whenever he makes an inappropriate comment, or how he’s unafraid to let you know when you’re wrong. How he always has to ponder the mysteries of the world at such a deep level, never taking things at face-value. And how he always hears you out from your perspective, never making you feel crazy or out of place for your seemingly otherworldly ideas.

Maybe it irked you at first, his insouciant and immature behavior, but it’s difficult to keep lying to yourself when really you knew deep down how endearing it felt, to have someone close enough to share such experiences with. And yet, through all of this, it seemed you had read him all wrong. This was the first time you had ever loved someone this deeply, let alone loved at all. People these days, especially young people, seem to lack the mental complexities you’d prefer in a partner. You wanted someone you could love and understand, not just some accessory at the hip to just brag and boast about. Even with all the times he’d berated you with insults and poked fun at your mishaps, he still possessed a sort of depth to his mentality, the kind that honestly made you fawn over the way you could hold meaningful conversations without feeling like you didn’t belong. If you recall correctly, he did mention once that he wasn’t a fan of small talk. Maybe that was just the way he was, or maybe it came as a result of his seemingly never ending history of trauma. (it made your heart clench just thinking about it, but you rarely brought it up. You knew all too well he wasn’t fond of the subject)

It only made sense he managed to snatch your heart right up into an unbreakable death grip. You were in love with him, for sure and certain. And it was likely that undying inferno, clouding your correct judgment in a cloud of smoke and ash, that led you to be here in this scene, the very moment that truly broke your heart, for the very first time.

You’d seen him with the girl a number of times, and to be fair, neither of them had ever confirmed any affection for the other, so perhaps you were just overthinking it all. Maybe to think such things would only be setting yourself up for disappointment, but for now, that could be left to the future. Maybe, if you were to get over your fears and doubts for just a moment, you would tell him. Maybe plan something for just the two of you, like they do in those cheap romance novels, and over a glass of zaytun peach lemonade, you look him in the eyes and say, “I love you.” And he would reply with, “Yes, so do I.” And the day would end however the author of said cheap romance novel sees fit.

And so you decide to do exactly that.

You find yourself sitting in immense regret as you wait outside the doors to the Akedemiya, anxiously picking at the cuticle of one of your nails as the unforgiving sun beats down on the back of your head. You’ll likely never fully get used to Sumeru’s weather. Typically at this time of the week, he attends the usual Vahumana lecture, begrudgingly of course. That was one of the things he was fond of complaining to you about, specifically the professor, whom he described as a “sulking old wench on the verge of death.” Maybe the description was a little much, but it elicited little giggles out of you nonetheless. And as the clock hits two in the afternoon, your anticipation only increases as you watch the door open and close, pairs of students leaving in intervals. You instantly perk up as you see his slender figure push its way out from the large wooden doors, making a beeline directly away from where everyone else was heading. Caught up in simply admiring him as he strolls away, lost in a daze, you suddenly snap out of your daydream as the realization hits you that he’s the reason you’re here. If he gets away, you’ll lose your chance.

With one last quick, deep breath of reassurance, you jog up to his side before he’s too far away, bouncing on the balls of your feet. “Hey, hold on!” You call out, cheeks instantly redding as he cocks his head in your direction with a (thankfully) only mildly annoyed expression. Having a crush is so much more mortifying than you would have ever anticipated. “Hey-“

“What?” He interrupts, clearly already exasperated with whatever antics he thinks you intend to throw his way. “How was school?” You inquire, jogging up to his side again as he quickens his pace out of annoyance. “Don’t ask questions like that, I’m not your child.”

“Fine, my fault for wanting to know how you’re doing. I have a request for you.” You press on, not wanting to waste much time with his brashness. “I’m going to decline.” He insists. “No, you won’t. Well, maybe you will. But i’m politely requesting that you accept.”

“Well, you have to tell me what it even is first, no?”

You mentally roll your eyes. He always had to be like this, didn’t he? “I’m getting there. I was, um.. wondering if you were going to be busy this afternoon?” You question, cringing at the way the words failed to come out as smoothly as you had originally intended. He scoffs at this, followed by a laugh. “You’re hilarious. What do you actually want from me?”

“..what do you mean? I’m asking if you have any plans for the rest of today.”

“Why? Is Kusanali being overly dependent on her little errand boy again? I would’ve thought she would tell me herself, not send some messenger.”

This causes you to cringe. Despite the immense progress he’s made, he still can’t comprehend the fact that there are people who actually care for him and don’t see him as just some sort of a tool. “Oh come on, is that really the conclusion you’re going to jump to?” You ask with a hand on your hip. “What other reasons could you possibly have for seeking me out? Don’t tell me you actually want to spend time with me?” He quirks an eyebrow in amusement as he crosses his arms. He enjoys messing with you, he really does. “And what if I do?” You respond with an equally smug expression, seemingly forgetting about your previous nervousness and relishing in the fact that you can lightheartedly tease each other like this. “Then I’d tell you that you’re a fool. I don’t see any possible way you could benefit from being around me.”

“Why do you do this? Is it really so difficult to imagine that people enjoy being around you? Haven’t you spent enough time around me to know I’m not joking?”

He sighs, half in exasperation and half in defeat. “So you’re really saying you came all the way out here because you want to waste your afternoon on me? If I agree to whatever escapade you have planned, will you leave me alone then?” His voice is only slightly, but definitely noticeably softer than it was before. “I wouldn’t call it a waste. Please give yourself some credit.” You insist. “Fine, I’ll indulge you this once. But I better not hear any more of this.” He says, only mildly displeased. You smile madly to yourself, biting a lip as you fight to contain yourself, at least for the time required to form your next sentence. “Okay well, I’m not letting you back out now. Can we agree to meet somewhere then?”

“..if you insist.”

And not much longer after that, the two of you had agreed to meet a few hours later in the evening outside of the Grand Bazaar. Zubayr Theater had planned that day to host a small festival in honor of what Nilou liked to call it’s “grand reopening”. Following recent events, the matra of the Akedemiya had decided to lay back on some of their laws and views regarding the arts, meaning that the theater was free to perform as openly as it liked, with some rules, of course. Needless to say, Nilou was absolutely ecstatic. She’d choreographed a whole show solely for the sake of reopening, and the streets of Sumeru City were plastered with all of the posters and flyers. Not only were you more than happy to come and support your good friend and her passions, you were also quite fond of the arts and always enjoyed a good performance. Not to mention it made a decent first date spot for two aspiring lovers. (“Date” was a strong word, and you were fully aware of the fact that a date was not what this was. Nonetheless, you couldn’t help but daydream about such things.)

You’d graciously purchased a ticket for yourself as well as for him, much to his surprise. “And what if I hadn’t decided to show up? What would you do with your wasted money then?” He quirks as the two of you walk inside the theater, breathing in the scent of spices mixed with floral perfumes. “Well you’re here aren’t you? That means I don’t have to worry about that. But if for some crazy reason you did decide to ditch me, I’d just find some lucky unsuspecting stranger who’d appreciate a theater ticket much more.” You reply. “Of course you would. Always so generous.” He quips, not lacking his usual sarcasm. “Well what would you rather I do with it?” You question curiously. He scoffs. “That's not what I meant, your answer was fine. I’m just saying it’s so very like you.”

“Whatever, just come on. I think you might actually enjoy this, Nilou is very talented!” You chirp, skipping ahead to the doors of the auditorium, your enthusiasm showing right through. In truth, you had decided to bring him to a quiet place such as a theater as an excuse to not have to make too much conversation with him. The long performances would give you plenty of time to come up with what you were going to say once the time came. As guilty as it made you feel, you really only paid a fraction of attention to the lovely performance as your thoughts were lost elsewhere. It was finally beginning to dawn on you how anxious you really were, and a pool of regret starts forming in your chest as your mind conjures up all of the worst possible scenarios. He’s not exactly known for being the most compassionate person, so fear of rejection was only worse in this case. Would he ridicule you, or would he simply spit venom in your face like there’s no tomorrow? Either way, whether this night would turn out for the worse or for the better, you were too far in to turn back now. At least, that’s what you tried to convince yourself.

He didn’t seem to have much to say himself either, only making a snide remark as the curtains opened and remaining mostly silent for the rest of the performance. You’d almost say he was enamored with the dancers, watching them with a lovely sort of infatuation, almost as if he was also lost in his own little world. You find yourself continuously sneaking glances at him, whether to try and catch some sort of emotion on his face or simply just to look at him, you weren’t entirely sure. If he notices your constant little glances, he makes no comment. With a final flourish of sounds, music and lights that snaps you out of your anxiety-filled little daze, you zone back into the stage as the audience roars with applause and the curtains slowly come to a close. You breath in deep for your nose, realizing that you can no longer hide in the darkness and music of the theater. And for the first time since the beginning of the whole show, he speaks up. “You know, I might have doubted you a bit too much. It would be a lie to say that wasn’t a little enjoyable. You’re right, that girl does have some talent.”

Taking a minute to actually process that he was speaking to you, you blink a couple of times before turning to face him. “O-oh! See? I told you. Are you realizing now that you don’t always have to be so pessimistic?” He quirks an eyebrow at the way you appear to be so startled, but chooses to make no mention of it. “I hate to break it to you, but one night of little dance performances isn’t going to change my philosophy, no matter how much you want it to.” He chuckles as the two of you start to filter out with the rest of the crowd. “Maybe not tonight, but I bet one day I will.”

“Mhm. Good luck with that.”

By the time you exit the theater, the sun has almost completely gone down, only casting the city in the faintest remnants of orange and yellows. The ambience of the night can only be described as tranquil with the way it bathes the buildings in its warm purples and cooler blues. It fits him so well, you think. So well, you don’t even realize you’re staring. The moonlight illuminates the carefully sculpted features of his face, making him appear as if he were straight from one of the paintings of the masters. The artist clearly has a steady hand, with each brush stroke being carefully placed to exact precision, the colors fading into each other absolutely beautifully. It truly is a once in a lifetime experience to get the chance to lay eyes on somebody this breathtaking. You’re a sight for eyes, Kunimitsu. Are the words your brain decides to conjure up following this butterfly-inducing observation. But of course, such moments can only live so long as he decides to cut you off with a rather embarrassing reality check. “You’re staring. Something you want to say?”

The blush attacks your cheeks faster than you can even blink, eyes widening for but a moment. You’ve been caught red handed, nothing you can do about that. Instead of averting your gaze in shyness, you grasp tightly to that little sliver of confidence left from the beginning of this whole endeavor, using it as assistance for crafting your next words. “Hmm.. maybe there is.” The words fall out flawlessly, gaze never leaving his. And then there it is again, that familiar feeling of teeny tiny butterflies making themselves at home in the pit of your stomach with the way his eyes meet yours. “Then I think we should go find a place to sit. There’s… actually something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you as well.” He replies, with him being the one to break eye contact instead of you. If you strain your ears just hard enough, you swear he sounds uncharacteristically softer than usual, and you instantly wonder if he’s thinking the same thing you are. And with the way he immediately follows by tilting his hat down to cover his expression and quickens his pace, he has to be, you think. “Good. I wanted a drink, anyway.”

You imagine yourself being patted on the shoulder reassuringly, it’s truly now or never. You’re by yourself again, waiting in a surprisingly short line for lemonade. Disappointingly, the clearly under-staffed lemonade stand had quickly run out of many of the good flavors, including your favorite, zaytun peach. Deciding not to let it get you down, you settle on two glasses of plain lemonade, figuring that the Wanderer would prefer that kind anyway. You still hadn’t figured out what his deal was when it came to food. He didn’t seem like a picky eater, but he always grimaced anytime anyone made a comment regarding anything gooey and sweet. You hadn’t quite figured out if he hated all sweet things, or if it was just sweet things that also happened to be sticky… but no matter, if the citrus drink happened to not be to his liking, that was the least important concern on your mind at the moment. With annoyingly shaky hands and an increased heart rate, you take the two cool glasses of lemonade and make your way over to where your companion has already claimed a spot at a table, shaded and secluded away from the rest of the festival-goers.

You set the cups down, which he barely even acknowledges. Neither do you, practically forgetting about their entire existence the moment your legs hit the smooth wooden structure of the chair. He shifts in his seat, almost uncomfortably, you note, turning to face you. Much to your chagrin, he decides not to say anything, leaving the two of you in a dreadfully uncomfortable silence. “So-“

“You wanted to tell me something?” You interrupt. Truly you weren’t sure why, though it was most likely because you were trying to find some last minute way to further procrastinate your confession. He pauses for a moment, before inhaling sharply, followed by an unnecessarily long exhale. “I… suppose I do. I’ve given this quite a bit of thought, and I’ve decided that despite the way you annoy me and your persistent show of naivety, I still think you’d have a good outlook on my predicament.” Usually when he makes quips like this, you’d playfully roll your eyes, followed by a witty retort of your own. But it seems that at this point into the night, you’ve already spent up all your previously prepared confidence. Your hands are under the table, one finger working nonstop at picking a loose cuticle, already turning pink and uncomfortable and raw from the friction. “I’ll… try my best. What exactly is it?” Your voice comes out smaller than intended, and you wonder if he can sense your anticipation.

He makes an ‘ugh’ sound as his head drops forward, the bridge of his nose coming to land directly in between his pointer and thumb. “I just… I’m conflicted. I don’t…” This causes you to furrow your brows together at his odd display of vulnerability. It seems he’s at a loss for words, the first time you’ve ever witnessed such a thing. “About… what?” You query, clasping your hands together underneath the table. He squeezes his eyes shut and a forced exhale leaves his nose, and it’s the first time you think you’ve ever seen him willingly show that much emotion around you. “I’ve been… trying to come to terms with something as of late. And I’m just not understanding how all you mortals endure these kinds of things every day, it’s honestly appalling.” He lifts his head up from between his fingers, looking at you concernedly, as if he really was being honest about how he felt. “Okay, well first of all, I doubt that you actually feel things any less than the ordinary human, you just like to hide it. Second, what is it that’s bothering you even? You’re concerning me.” You comment. He scoffs. “The amount I feel is not the point. I am incredibly disturbed by this, and you are the only person I feel can advise me on what to do. You’re quite the expert on emotions, after all.”

You’re not quite sure whether he’s giving you a compliment or calling you emotional, but it didn’t matter. The fact that he’s even coming to you about something that clearly means so much to him hints at the fact that there might be some greater feeling lingering behind all of this. You’re about to open your mouth to ask once again what he means by all this, but he beats you to it, and you swear you see the apples of his cheeks turn a dusty rose color. “I keep having this reoccurring thought, about a person… that I may hold some sort of fondness for..”

Your breath hitches. This whole time your well-thought out (more like impulsive, but you digress) plan was to get him alone so that you would have to work up the courage on your own to confess to him. But now, was he going to do it for you? Would you be getting the happy ending you’d daydreamed about for so long? You zone out for the better part of his speech, attention only coming back for the last few words.

“…your friend, actually. You know, the one with the (color) hair? Surely you’ve noticed? That’s why I’m telling you, you’re the only one I feel even remotely comfortable with giving this information.”

What.

With those words, you swear you could literally feel your face turn white . Could you perhaps have misheard? Is he alluding to something else? It’s almost like you’re in denial. The only physical reaction this confession seems to get out of you is a blank stare, while your mind on the other hand is practically on a wild rampage. The man you love more than anything, more than life, more than the sun, more than yourself, sitting in front of you, telling you directly to your face that his heart belongs to somebody whose name is not yours. Whose whole persona you wish so dearly could be your own. And the audacity to ask for advice on what to do was really just the cherry on top. You feel absolutely mortified, like there’s a sizzling flame, a light in your stomach making you feel like you’d vomit the entirety of your organs at any given moment. He couldn’t possibly be lying either, with the way his whole demeanor seems to change to a completely different person when he speaks about her. He seems so oddly vulnerable telling you about how he feels. At the very least, he trusts you more than most to be so willingly sharing his thoughts with you. That’s something, at least.

After a short moment too long of silence, you blink away your surprise, putting on a soft expression that reads ‘congratulations, I’m so happy for you’ despite the ache forming in your heart. “Ah, is that so? You know, I think it’s great you’re allowing yourself this. She’s a beautiful girl, I’m sure she loves you just as much.” Gods, that hurt more than anything else you’ve ever had to say before. He pauses for a moment before speaking again, and you fear it’s because he’s noticed your trepidation. “You’re very perceptive for a mortal, you know. That much I’ve picked up on, if not anything else. So is that really what you think then? That she could really harbor any sort of affection for me, despite what I’ve done?” And if that doesn’t hurt even more. The first reason being that he clearly loves this girl even deeper than you’d originally thought, the second being that he still believes himself to be so inherently undesirable that he has to ask you for confirmation that another could love him back. And of course he’s lovable, he’s literally taken your very soul and intertwined it with his own.

“Kunimitsu, how could she not? Do you really not see anything in yourself of any value? Of course you’re loved. Despite what you think of yourself, and what you think others should think, you are meant to be cared for just as you are. I- she can see the way you’ve changed, and your efforts to heal and become better. If someone like you cares for her, there isn’t any possible way you aren’t dear to her as well.” The reason these words come out so easily can only be explained by the feelings you harbor so deeply for him. Maybe it sounds too much like a confession of your own, and despite trying to make yourself believe you say it for his own good, you know deep down it’s really because you want to relieve some of that ache for yourself. He looks at you in a relieved sort of way, almost endearing, yet still not fully believing. “Do I really deserve this..?” His eyes are by far the softest you’ve ever seen as he practically begs you to confirm it for him again. And damn it if you didn’t love him so much, if you weren’t so eager to please him. “You do. You really, truly do.” If only he knew how good you’d treat him if you were the one he longed for. If only he knew how hot your flame burned for him, if only he knew the way you longed to hold, caress, and simply just love him. And so you decide you can bear to look at him no longer, lest you break down in tears. “It’s getting a bit late, I think. I hope you think about what I told you. Good night, Kuni.”

You stand up, not really caring anymore if you seemed to end the night too abruptly. Maybe it was selfish to leave just like that, and maybe he could tell you were upset, but none of that mattered. Right now, you really wanted to just put yourself first for once. Nearly the instant you consider yourself far enough away from him or anyone else, you begin to break down. You roughly cover your mouth with the palm of your hand to cover the sound of a pathetic little sob that escapes your vocal chords. A shaky inhale follows as large droplets of salty tears quickly make their way down your cheeks from the corners of your eyes. Your other arm wraps around your midsection at a subconscious attempt at self comfort. You collapse against the slide of a building, sliding down the wall until you’re fully seated on the ground, allowing your emotions to fully take a hold of you. For what feels almost never ending, you cry and cry and cry until you don’t have it in you to produce anything more. You take another shaky breath, whether to calm yourself down or to replace all the oxygen lost, you’re not sure. It doesn’t really help either way.

After several more minutes of just sitting there, hugging your knees to your chest and looking up absentmindedly at the night sky, quite literally contemplating everything about your life, you’re snapped out of your thoughts by the sounds of soft footsteps coming down the cobblestone road. You panic, desperately not wanting anyone to see you in such a state. Upon further inspection, the sounds of the approaching person become clearer. It sounds as if the owner isn’t wearing any shoes. Instead, there’s also the faintest sound of jingling bells. Turning your head slightly to the side, you catch a glimpse of exactly who seems to be approaching, and you sigh in relief. You actually wouldn’t mind a little company from this person, if they even notice you hiding in the depths of your despair. The little dendro archon strolls casually down the street, seeming to be thinking of nothing but how tranquil the ambience is. Part of you wants to step out from your hiding place and greet her, the other urging you to curl away even further. Neither of the thoughts win, resulting in you staying exactly where you are.

The white-haired little sprout hums an old Sumeruen tune as she bounces on the balls of her feet, not a care in the world. Your heart warms a little at the sight. Just as the thought finishes passing through your love-sick mind, she cocks her head to the side, noticing your presence. With a little pleased gasp, she bounces right over to you. “(Name), I’ve been looking all over for you! Why are you sitting all alone?”

You give her a smile, only half attempting to conceal your distress. You don’t really want her to question you about your misfortune, yet at the same time, it would feel really nice to tell somebody you trusted as much as her about it. “Hi, Nahida. I’m just taking a breather, I guess. It’s really nice out tonight, isn’t it?” Your voice is soft and smooth, as it usually is when making conversation with her. “It is indeed! I was just out taking a walk myself. My intention was actually to find you, I was wondering if you had made it to the festival. It seems I ended up getting a bit distracted… so I’d say it’s actually quite lucky I managed to run into you here. Silly me!” She sits down next to you, bells rustling against each other. Her short legs stick out straight and she rests her hands atop her lap. “You were looking for me? What for exactly?” You curiously ask, resting your cheek on the palm of your hand while your head turns to look at her. Your eyelashes are still clustered together in little points as a result of the river of tears just a few minutes prior.

She taps a finger against her chin, a typical habit of hers reserved for thinking. “To be honest… I don’t think I really had a reason. I was just seeking your company! Ever since I met you and the traveler, I’ve found that I quite enjoy spending time with my friends.” This elicits a giggle from you. She didn’t even intend for it to be a compliment, her comment was pure honesty. But nevertheless it succeeded in making you feel a little better to know that you were on her mind, even if she had no idea what you were feeling at the moment. “Well I’m glad you found me then. Did you go to the festival today?”

“No, I didn’t get the chance to. But…” She trails off, giving you a puzzled yet concerned expression.

“Is there something on your mind? I know I’m not an expert yet on human emotions, but I feel as if you are acting differently than you normally do.”

She sits patiently, waiting for a response. True, she had a bit of a hard time contemplating the more complex emotions of humans, but she was still one of the most empathetic people you’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.

You sigh, might as well tell her the truth. “Nahida, I… you’re right. I am thinking about something. I just don’t know exactly how to tell you..” Your gaze falls down, suddenly you become more interested in picking at your cuticles than the inquisitive girl beside you. She hums in understanding. “I see...” She sits in silence, words failing to find her. They don’t seem to come to you either.

“..shall I read your mind? Not to intrude, but do you think it would help? Would you like me to know what’s wrong?” She pressed, almost carefully. After a bit of trial and error, the young archon had learned that most people don’t appreciate being bluntly asked for their feelings. So, she’d learned to take things with a bit more heed. Any other day, you probably would have laughed, telling her not to worry herself over you. But, thanks to none other than Nahida herself, you’d begun to slowly become a bit more open with how you felt. She’d advised, after reading some self-help book on managing emotions, that you start telling people when you felt something that made you hurt. And as honestly awkward as it was, it was helping. In lieu of a response, you nod your head in answer to her question with a small ‘mhm’ sound, the words once again failing to come to you.

She nods her head as well, giving your shoulder a gentle pat before ever so softly taking your hand in both of hers, treating it as if it were a fragile glass ornament. She gives it a soft kiss before grasping it more firmly, shutting her eyelids before beginning the process of entering your consciousness. Without even trying, you replay the events of earlier that afternoon in your mind, cringing the whole way through. It brought a tough sort of ache into your chest, sort of like bread dough with too much flour. After only a few more seconds of replaying painful scenes and holding your breath without even realizing, she opens her eyes, but chooses not to release your hand just yet. When her expression meets yours, it can only be described as sorrowfully compassionate.

“Oh…” Is the only sound that escapes her lips. You smile sadly and attempt to laugh in order to lighten the mood, regretting it instantly the second the noise emitted from your throat turns into a sob. You cover your mouth with your hand as the tears return yet again. Nahida stands on her knees to better reach you, wrapping her small arms around your shoulders, patting your back comfortingly. “I am so, so, so sorry (Name). If only I had known… he hadn’t even told me about his feelings for her.” She coos. Speaking through your tears, you make an attempt to defend her position. “It’s not- It’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault. But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.” You let your head hang low with no more energy left to hold it high.

“You know that I’ve never experienced such heartbreak personally, but I can imagine it hurts just as much as you say. Please don’t start to think anything less of yourself because of this, you are still perfect.” She lifts herself from the embrace, holding your head in both of her hands. You look up at her with tear stained cheeks that glisten in the moonlight, giving a watery laugh. “Nahida, you are so nice to me. You think you don’t understand emotions, but you still care about mine more than a lot of people I’ve met.”

“It’s my duty as the Archon of Sumeru, isn’t it? I must attend to all the needs of my people. Political, physical, and I also believe emotional. And as one of my newfound friends, I need to take care of you too.” She smiles, resembling that of a proud child after their mother congratulated them on a well-earned school grade. It makes you smile too. “I guess it is then. Thank you, Nahida. You are really a good friend.”

“And so are you! Now, I want you to promise me something, okay? Go to bed tonight as soon as you can, get lots of good rest. And tomorrow make sure to eat a healthy breakfast and get lots of sunshine. Sunshine is proven to lift moods significantly! Can you do that for me?” She counsels, this time resembling that of a mother caring for her ill child. You nod in agreement. “Sure. I’ll try my best.” You know full well agreeing to her worried demands was only to make her happy. Truthfully, you’re not sure for how long this heartbreak will plague your mind. It’s not everyday the love of your life blatantly states to your face that they love somebody who isn’t you. Some people would get angry when faced with a situation like this. Angry at the boy, angry at the other. Angry at themselves, even. But as of right now, you can’t find it in you to be angry. The feeling lingering behind from the shipwreck only seems to be a deep sort of pain, the kind that hollows out your chest and resides deep in the darkest of corners, it’s shadows seeping out to infest every single inch of you. Despite the sunshine peeking in, maybe from the kind words of a friend such as Nahida, the shadows don’t seem all that repulsed by it. When you were younger, you once told yourself you weren’t interested in the idea of falling in love. After reading so many books, nothing about the topic ever appealed to you. But as most people know, lives hardly go as they are planned, hardly follow along with the intentions. You hadn’t meant to fall in love with him, you hadn’t even tried. And maybe that’s what made it hurt so bad, because it seemed the universe had surprised you with a gift so lovely. You accepted, because who wouldn’t turn down such a generous item? Only to find out the universe had made a mistake, that lovely present tied with a satin bow was not in fact made for you, but rather instead for the lovely person next door with sparkling eyes like diamonds and a heart of gold.

Right now, your eyes feel much too clouded to even have a chance at sparkling, and your heart too heavy to be made of anything but black, crumbling coal. Maybe you’ll get over him, or maybe you won’t. Maybe this will be the kind of first love that stays by your side the rest of your life, the kind you tell stories to your grandchildren about when they ask you if you’ve ever been in love. Or maybe the fates will have a change of heart and decide to grant you the wish you’ve been so desperately clinging on to. Either way, you love him. And there will always be a part of you that hopes, maybe, he’ll love you too.

[total-drama-brainrot]

Question about p! Noah..

How would he hypothetically react to being stabbed. (Accidentally) Like not a deadly stab wound but one big enough for it to be considered concerning.

How would the rest of the cast react?

Ok so what I'm asking is how committed is p! Noah to the bit? How for would he go in such a serious situation. Maybe he didn't care at all and walked around bleeding? Maybe he was only thinking of ways to torment the others using this to his advantage. Idk.

Also love this au sm!!

"Hypothetically", just say you want to stab him. This is a safe space, I'm not judging. ...Okay I'm judging a little bit.

I actually have a few thoughts about reactions to stabbings, as someone who's been involved in more than my fair share of them, and generally I think a lot of people don't tend to understand just how much it fucking hurts to be stabbed, even when it's non-fatal. It is a very painful experience, even with the added anaesthetic of adrenaline, and seeing just how often media portrays people walking off stab wounds or regarding them as little more than scratches is just. Infuriating.

Now, I personally headcanon Noah as someone with a fairly high pain tolerance. This is backed by a lot of the bone-crushing and otherwise painful experiences he suffers through in the show and is generally able to shrug off without complaint (and really, Noah would realistically have so much chronic pain after World Tour in particular, given how much he's crushed, tossed and thrown about in that season alone). But that doesn't mean I think he can just brute-force his way through acting unconcerned by a literal stab wound.

Even p!Noah wouldn't have that unwavering of a constitution, and he's crazy. Though I do think he'd make a good effort of maintaining his persona as the unflappable unstable wildcard, he'd be quick to abscond from the situation at hand and treat the wound. Again, that shit hurts, and it's really hard to keep up any pretences under the pain of a stab wound, so getting himself out of the situation as fast as possible would be his top priority- the less time he spends around the others in his vulnerable state, the slimmer the chances are of them seeing behind his mask of mania to the scared person hidden behind it.

Because his detachment from reality is the vast majority of his defence mechanism game plan; if Noah allows himself to be seen as anything but the psychopath he's portrayed himself as- either by the audience or the now aware cast- he's lost practically everything he's spent seasons building up on camera. Letting himself be seen as vulnerable or even affected by something as "inconsequential" as a stab would is a no-go, so he'd stutter out a few witty zingers and bounce.

(Which is an incredibly unhealthy mindset to have, but p!Noah isn't exactly mentally sound even without his exaggerated persona. His commitment to The Bit is strong enough for him to momentarily disregard his physical wellbeing, but not enough to grant him the ability to completely ignore it.)

It'd play out something like this:

---

Noah's eyes momentarily widened in shock as he felt the cold steel of Duncan's knife embed itself into the meat of his upper thigh. The pain was searingly sharp, molten agony burning like lava in his veins, and the bookworm found himself reflexively stumbling backwards from the punk.

"Did you just stab me?" He asked incredulously, sparing a glance down towards the weapon sticking out of his now ruined cargo shorts. The sight was almost comedic; Noah's oversized shorts rested against the hilt of the knife like cushions, completely blanketing the wound beneath them. He was almost amused enough to laugh, but the constant screaming of his nerves had his laughter congealing against the back of his throat with the rest of his saliva, leaving his mouth uncomfortably dry.

Duncan, in turn, seemed just as shocked by the turn of events. The delinquent's terrified blue eyes darted from Noah's face to the knife jutting out of his thigh. Which prompted the cynic to contort his grimace into a toothy grin, as any sign of weakness here would completely ruin his carefully cultivated image, though the edges of his smile were soured by the constant throbbing pain in his leg.

Truly, it was Noah's own fault. He shouldn't've provoked the stab-happy jailbird, but messing with Duncan was just too fun an opportunity to pass up.

"Oh fuck! Oh shit, dude, I'm so sorry!"

And he really was. Noah could tell by the shaky panic in his voice, the bulging of his ice-blue eyes, and the way Duncan seemed to curl self-consciously into himself. Not that the pessimist thought he had any right to act to timid- he was the one with the knife in his leg.

Again, Noah wanted nothing more than to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Here he was, stood before the resident metal-faced punk, brandishing the other's knife deep in the flesh of his thigh like some sort of twisted fashion statement. Every minor twitch and spasm of his muscles had white-hot agony lick at the back of his mind like flames, matching the welling heat of pained tears he desperately choked down; Noah refused to cry in front of Duncan, refused to let the other know just how much pain he was in.

He took a few tentative steps backwards, edging towards the exit of the Economy Cabin and towards the relative safety of the Confessional. Each step was a test in his composure, as every time he put even the slightest bit of weight onto his pierced leg Noah felt liquid hot torture bubble through his veins.

"Wow. I know you offered to give me a piercing, but don't you think this is a bit much?" Noah snarked, playing off the unsteady tightness of his voice as mirth with a humourless giggle, and disguising the wince he couldn't quite subdue as a cocky tilting of his head.

Noah placed a steadying hand on the doorframe of the exit, never once turning his back to his assaulter or letting his feral grin falter, as his tear-fogged eyes scanned across the cabin. He'd made it to the exit, but really needed a moment to catch his breath. It was so hard to breath around the sharp, burning pain.

The cynic felt, more than saw, the concerned looks the other occupants of Economy were shooting him. In fact, both Owen and Alejandro had jumped from their seats to, assumedly, assist him. That wouldn't do- Noah staunchly refused to show any semblance of helplessness in front of Alejandro. The latino's hero complex and overblown ego would never let Noah hear the end of it, and making himself even the slightest bit sympathetic in front of their audience would offset the persona he'd worked so hard to maintain.

Damn his team and their inconstant bouts of humanity; concern was the last thing Noah wanted! The whole situation was jeopardising his image! He'd have to do something drastic to stop his well intentioned teammates from following him- something crazy.

"I'm keeping this, by the way."

The bookworm yanked the knife from it's nested perch in is thigh, scattering scarlet droplets of blood in its wake, and brandished his newfound weapon with performative flourish. It hurt like a bitch, and Noah had to force down a shudder at the feeling of his own rapidly welling blood as it began to trickle down his leg like molasses in rivulets of crimson. No doubt his shorts would be ruined, not that they weren't already.

A resounding cry of disbelief rattled through the cabin, though Noah payed it no mind.

It... probably wasn't the best idea, ripping the knife out of his stab wound. But Noah was nothing if not committed to his act, and it wasn't as if he could just re-plug the bleeding with the knife.

Unless? ...No, no that was stupid. The persistent throbbing pain of his sluggishly bleeding wound was probably just messing with his head.

It was, however, satisfying to watch the well-intentioned concern on the other's faces drain into white-faced revulsion and terror, as Noah playfully began to spin the blood soaked weapon between his fingers. Both Owen and Alejandro came to a halt a few meters away from him, the Spaniard in particular seemed to recoil at the stray droplets of the cynic's blood as his face took on a peculiar green tinge.

And Duncan stood shell-shocked in his original position, apparently still stunned by disbelief by his own actions. Not that Noah cared, but it was a little ironic to him; the big bad delinquent couldn't handle the ramifications of his own violence. How sad, Noah's heart was just bleeding for him- or was it his leg? It was hard to tell, the rapid loss of blood made his deductive skills a little wonky.

"Thanks for the gift, Duncey. Toodles!~"

With that, Noah skittered his way out of the cabin, leaving a trail of scarlet behind him.

"Dude, what the fuck."

---

And then p!Noah hobbles his way to the Confessional to treat his stab wound and stop the bleeding. And probably has a little cry over it because ouch, being stabbed hurts. (Obviously he'd muffle the sounds of his sobs and agonised hissed breaths as he deals with the wound- he wouldn't want anyone overhearing his moment of weakness.)

Then, of course, he remembers that the Confessional is decked out with a camera and quickly re-masks into his usual persona and waxes poetic about how pretty he looks covered in his own blood, and how Duncan was so generous in gifting him his prized knife, and how Noah would love to repay the favour. Or something along those lines.

Duncan in this scenario would have the added bonus of not only dealing with the guilt of stabbing someone, but also the paranoia of Noah's rebuttal. Of which Noah would relish in, because of course he would.

As for the others, Noah would make a conscious and continuous effort to keep them as unconcerned with his wellbeing as possible, since his whole goal is to make himself seem as inhuman and unstable as possible. Letting the others care about him would humanise Noah in the eyes of the cast and the audience at large, which is a big no-no for his game plan.

That doesn't mean he wouldn't let Owen fuss over him in private; Owen's one of the very few people around who knows that a lot of Noah's instability is an exaggeration, so Noah isn't as hesitant to lower his walls.