#I'm Just Pretending I Know What I'm Doing At This Point

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

I am not EVERY autistic person so this probably won't be a total coverage approach, but here's what I have learned:

People like to feel that you pay attention to and remember little but important things about them. And when someone is "small-talking" with you, it is often because they either want to offer you some of that info about themselves, or they want to pearn it about you so they can "return the effort". I think of it a bit like call and response with my cats! They don't understand me, and I don't understand them, but when I walk into the kitchen each morning, Lup runs towards me excitedly making her tiny little squeaks and trills. That's kitty small-talk! Many words of all varieties just say "I love you! I missed you! I'm happy to be here with you today!"

So I answer her! Sometimes I mimic her little sounds, and other times I pretend we're gossiping like church ladies (*gasp* NO, you're KIDDING, he said THAT?? What a scandal!") But whichever I do Lup gets excited and continues her little "conversation" with me.

People are harder. I had to really take time and practice different ways of responding before I found appropriate "call and response" for small talk, but I found that there are genuinely more options than you'd think. And the same thing happened! As I learned how to "call and respond" to small talk, I found that people would excitedly approach me to have it, and gradually we got to know each other enough that the "calls" coming from both sides got less general, more tailored to our personal preferences and interests, and I didn't have to small talk as much (but when I did it wasn't as scary either)

This isn't just my personal theory either! A fair amount of research in interpersonal/social in-group dynamics suggests that "bids for attention" like small talk function in this way of call-and-response intimacy/connection building. I have found that a LOT of social etiquette gets less scary to navigate when I at least understand the function of it. It also gave me some understsnding of why people might be hurt when I visibly don't WANT to "respond" to a "call" they've made: I'm the same way about my "calls" I just use different ones! The way I feel when I ask someone "would you want to hang out with me in the kitchen while I make lunch?" (Sad, a little anxious or vulnerable, maybe hurt if they've said no to a LOT of recent calls, etc) is the same way others feel when I decline theirs! That doesn't change if it was MISSED rather than DECLINED, but it can be repaired! Ao another thing I've taken to doing is naming for people the calls I have learned I'm most likely to miss. I know I have a hard time understanding/recognizing small talk as a call to attention, so I let people know that! And generally the people I connect best with are the ones who notice I missed a call and offer me an explicit/direct opportunity to reject it before internalizing what I've done as a rejection. This isn't really an option for everyone! And while I'm always delighted when someone is compatible with me in that way, I don't get upset if they're not, and work to not take it personally as something I'm doing wrong either.

Anyway, this got rambly at the end there, but the point is, most social interactions have a FUNCTION and while being autistic frequently means that we struggle to learn and interact in these systems as they currently exist, but that doesn't necessarily mean that we don't also depend on those functions. I think it can be easy to forget that part of the "disabling" effects of social/communication symptoms in autism is how it cuts us off from systems of support, care, and human interconectedness (things we still NEED) and it can matter to our quality of life to be able to find compatible alternatives to fulfilling those functions even if the original mechanism (small talk in this case) doesn't suit us.

Being bad at small talk doesn't mean you don't need friends, but it will probably make it very hard to MAKE friends. And we each and all deserve to decide for ourselves what to do about that.

I'm trying to figure out a good way to say "you really should actually learn the basics of small talk" with sounding like I'm biased against autistic people.

[crescenthistory]

carina!!! congratulations on 2k followers 🥳🥳

could i ask for a drabble with rockstar au and barty?

thank you my love<33

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i will ARGUE for prompt 33 "rockstar au" with barty crouch jr.

carina's 2k celebration

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cw: gn!reader, slightly suggestive, you're wearing lipstick, doing barty's makeup

wc: 666

"Sit still."

Your left hand was holding Barty's jaw tightly to keep his face immobile, knowing that this boy did not have it in him to remain in the same position for long. Your right hand was leaning against his temple as you gently applied eyeshadow beneath his eyes in a thin streak to match what you had already applied on his eyelids.

He was grinning up at you, eyes wide and concentrated on your movements.

"'S hard when I've got such a pretty thing in my lap."

"I'm sure it is hard."

Your voice was quiet and so was the smile that you simply could not wipe off of your lips. Barty must have noticed because his hands on your thighs squeezed momentarily, appreciatively. 

This had become your new routine – you fixing his hair and makeup moments before the show while straddling him for better access. At a gig a few months back, you had teasingly suggested you do his make-up properly before he heads on stage instead of him just wiping some black eyeshadow messily over his eyelids in two back-and forth motions. To be truthful, you more than enjoyed the messy look as well, but you thought it would be fun to glam him up properly for once.

Barty insisted that he simply loved it so much that you just had to become his own personal makeup artist.

You still think it’s just because he enjoyed how you sat in his lap. Perhaps it gave him the rush he needed before going on stage for a few hours. He kept proving your point by murmuring sweet nothings as you worked on his face, hands roaming to his heart’s content – but there was no part of you that truly wanted to complain, so you let him be.

“Wish everyone could see you like this.” His smile turned cheeky as he looked past your shoulder into the mirror he was supposed to get ready in front of himself.

You squeezed his jaw a bit tighter, jerking his head back in place where it was supposed to be. “Do you now?”

His pupils were blown and he tried to do a so-so movement with his head, but you held him still yet again. “Well, not really. Just wish everyone could see how bloody lucky I am.”

You pretended his words didn’t get to you as you bit your lip to keep a smile back. “Sing about it, then.”

In between brush strokes – you’ll give him as much – Barty threw his head back laughing as he squeezed at yet another handful of your flesh. “You know I do, baby.”

You hummed in agreement, narrowing your eyes at him, deducing that you were almost done. Before he could say anything else, you leaned down and pressed a pursed kiss to his mouth, purposefully missing it just slightly. When you pulled back, he had a light lipstick stain covering half his lips and the corner of his mouth.

The way his lips pulled into a wide grin told you he knew what you were doing. “Cheeky minx. Making me all pretty?”

You let your hands drag up his arms to settle happily in a cross behind his shoulders, allowing your smile to be just as lovestruck as need be. “Isn’t that my job?”

“Nah,” he drawled. Kissing you one more time, not caring about the lipstick – or perhaps chasing it . “Your job is to be pretty. Everything else is just a bonus.”

The laugh that escaped you was more of a huff and he pinched your nose endearingly before grabbing a tight hold of your underside as he got up out of his seat, effortlessly hoisting you with him. 

He carried you all the way to the door before looking up at you, white teeth sharp and blinding. “Where’d you wanna watch tonight, dragă? Backstage? Crowd? Lights?”

You nudged your nose against his, careful not to smudge any of your work before it’s supposed to be naturally smudged by the gig. “I’ll sit just behind the curtain like last time, so I can be alone but see you.”

He spun you around with a gleeful laughter, taking to carrying you out and over to the curtains where Evan and Dorcas were already waiting. “Your wish is my command, my love.”

[k0nanharv3y]

Alfred who came down after hearing so much noise: What's going on here, Mr. Bruce, Mr. Tim?

And Tim's face turned to Alfred like a rubber band. Bruce's face took a little longer, but he also looked at the old man in pain, seeking comfort or advice from his father

Alfred looked between Tim's heartbroken face and Bruce's wounded face: I don't know what's going on here, but I would advise you both to change and take your conversation upstairs

And Tim only saw red

Tim: This is- I'm so done!, I'm so fucking done, with you!

He pointed aggressively at Bruce

Tim: You!

Damian, who had stood on the sidelines and now seemed personally offended

Tim: And you! And everyone else in this fucking family!

Finally he pointed at Alfred even more aggressively

Alfred, shocked by the open display of hatred towards him, he felt his heart heavy: Mr. Tim- I-

For the first time in perhaps ever, Alfred hesitated

Damian: Hey! You have nothing to yell at Pennyworth for!

He defended

Tim: Shut up Damian, this isn't about you!

He silenced him and turned to both adults now

Tim: It's about you, and what you did to me

Both adults looked at each other and remained silent

Tim: You, you were an abuser and I didn't deserve that, any of this, I've always tried to please you, to live up to what you wanted! And you?! You left him, Alfred, and I wish I didn't hate you like Dick and Jason do, but all I see when I come into this house is an abuser and the person who let him! Don't play dumb, Alfred, you- You're just as bad as Bruce! And even if Bruce was the problem, you never made me feel welcome! Never-! I had to walk home a hundred times with bruised ribs, ribs that you bandaged up and then pretended didn't exist!

His throat was now raw and his voice had become cracked and squeaky. And both adults, when they saw Tim, didn't see the 17-year-old running a multi-million dollar company, they just saw the 12-year-old excited to be Robin and looking for any kind of validation they could give him

And this was what they gave him, a house where he didn't feel safe or welcome, a family he avoided like fire avoids water, thousands of reasons not to return and they robbed him of any kind of childhood he could've had

And the two adults remained silent, unable to deny or say anything, because they had nothing to say. Tim had said enough for them

Tim: You say you loved all the children in this mansion, but guess what, Alfred, I was once a child myself, and the only thing I ever got from here, never came from you. When I came here to become Robin, I thought... I thought I might get something like Jason and Dick got, too, but it seems the only thing I'll get from you is an inscription on my grave. What will you put this time, Alfred? "A good soldier," "A good son"?

Silence was his response

Tim: Fuck you all

He pulled off his cape and threw it on the ground

Tim: Fuck you all. I'm tired of this, tired of-! Of everyone wanting something from me! I quit

He ripped off his tool belt and threw it at Bruce

Tim: I quit your stupid last name, I quit your stupid company, I quit being Red Robin, I quit everything

When he had nothing left to tear off, he kicked things off the floor

Tim: I'm done! And if you ever- And if you ever care even a little, don't look for me! I don't want anything to do with this family, all of you-!

He looked at the people in the cave and seemed about to cry

Tim: I hope you-! Fuck you all, I never deserved this! Fuck you, I hope you all fuck off and-!

His voice broke and his crying intensified

Tim: I hope you die

His voice trailed off as he tried to wipe away the tears that kept running down his cheeks

Tim: I hope you suffer at least a fraction of what you did to me and...! And... And why can't I hate you...? Why can't I hate you...?

His voice sounded so tired

Tim: All I ever wanted was to be... to be enough, for you to love me... and I want to hate you but- but you're my father, and they're my brothers and... and I'm so tired, I want to go home, I want to feel safe and I want to hate you! Why can't hate you?!

He collapsed on the ground, like all his other things, like a pathetic spectacle of a pathetic child. He felt miserable in the eyes of the people who hurt him, he felt vulnerable and naked and... and he didn't care anymore, the weight he had been carrying for so long finally lifted from his shoulders and he felt satisfaction at the heartbroken look on Bruce's face and the pain on Alfred's face, and Tim simply didn't care about being on the ground anymore

He didn't care about anything anymore, just like he didn't matter

///

Part 1 Jumpscare!!!

That awkward conversation I had!!

///

And no one gets any comfort because god knows I don't know how to write about comfort, Tim deserved that breakdown and Bruce and Alfred deserved to have someone point out to their faces that they were, in fact, abusive and ruined a child's life

I would do this with Dick, Jason, Damian and Barb too, but I haven't read many comics about them, fanfics? sure, but I don't know how much of it is canon and what their real personalities are

Bruce ruined his children's futures, but canonically he also saved them. Dick was saved from becoming GraySon, Jason was rescued from the streets, Damian was saved from the League of Assassins, and Barb... Barb made choices

But Dick was also condemned to the superhero life and all the harm that entails, Jason was condemned to die, Damian went from an abusive mother to a neglectful father, and Barb... well, she's now permanently in a wheelchair

There's just too much to unpack there!!!! And my psychology books are begging to be opened again, but Tim is my favorite and that means everything I think of will be about or referring to him

[dr-stories-ask-blog]

[The Judgement knew her time was short. She could feel it. It started when she heard the news of Sublime's death. Depression. Anger. Denial. Fear.] [The Sister laughed. It's not a kind one. Nor is it cold. This is the laugh of someone who lost it.] [You know what's funny about that, Sublime? You're wrong about the cause. It's not the holding in that is kill—] [As if to prove her point, the flowers on her hair start to wilt. At the same time, it felt like someone stabbed her in the back with a dagger. She winces before continuing.] [—ing us. It's the spiral. The expression. The emotions themselves.] [Every change that she was going through was a tick on her countdown clock. Every change, she felt herself become weaker. She was aware of the risk of becoming The Brother. That is why she blocked out her emotions. That is why she pretended that nothing was wrong.] [That is why I was detached. That is why I was cruel. Not because I wanted to, or that I didn't know any better. But because the restraint is what kept me alive. I'm s—] [Another stab of pain. This one, in her left eye. She groans in pain as she instinctively covers it with her hand. Black liquid seems to be dripping through the covering hand.] [—orry if I hurt you. I was just trying to keep everyone safe. But I was never good at that, was I?!] [Who was she kidding. She was digging her own grave. She knew she was. But what else was she going to do?! None of the other Judgements give a damn. They couldn't! There was no help for her condition.]

[Where. Where would I be able to get help? If the other Up Above hear about this, what do you think they'll do? It's not like I can suddenly get therapy BECAUSE MY KIND DOESN'T HAVE THIS ISSUE!]

[as if they haven't seen this all already]

[As soon as she finishes, she feels one. Last. Thing.] [Her heart beats rapidly. Then she feels the imaginary dagger stab into it and twist the blade. She lets out a scream of pain before dropping to the floor. She was too weak to stand up.]

The sound of an approaching train can be heard. Grab your tickets, hold em tight. It's gonna be one hell of a ride!~

Mr time

Mrs Earth

Ms judgement

Mr Hyde

Ms Octayve

Hm....guess they lost theirs

Ah!

And Mr Gecko.

ALL ABOARD!

[lenorenevermore99]

Why 457 is actually valid af and not just a "joke" ship

I wanna start this by saying that I'm in no way, shape or form convinced 457 is canon nor I think there will be anything remotely romantic between the two of them in season 3. But people seem to think it's just a joke inside the fandom, while actually, their dynamic is pretty fucking valid and I want to analyze that in this post.

One of the most discussed things (if not the most) when it comes to this ship is the stares.

Some think this is the stare of love, others think In-ho just enjoys seeing him suffer. Well, let me tell you it is neither.

But before we delve into the way In-ho stares at Gi-hun, we first have to go back to talk about Hwang In-ho as a character.

As we know, Hwang In-ho is the Winner of the 2015 Squid Game. He went into the games so he could have the money to treat his sick, pregnant wife, much like Gi-hun who did the same for his sick mother. Both of them won the game, but both of them were too late to save the person they loved from a sad fate.

This lead to In-ho becoming the Frontman. We don't know exactly what happened in the timeframe between him winning and him becoming the Frontman, but we can safely assume that after loosing his wife, In-ho lost faith in humanity. The games have destroyed him, they turned him into the villain he is today.

And the thing is, when he looks at Gi-hun, he sees his past self in him. This was confirmed by both Lee Byung Hun (In-ho's actor) and the director of the show himself.

Or to be more precise, he sees his past self. He sees who he was before the games changed him. And this is what led to his fascination and obsession with Gi-hun, because here's the thing; the games traumatized Gi-hun, but they didn't break his faith and hope in humanity, like they did with In-ho himself.

And this is the thing that, in my view, both fascinates and deeply angers In-ho. Deep inside, subconsciously, he is thinking, "Why were YOU able to retain your hope in humanity? Why were you able to remain a good person when I couldn't?"

In-ho was genuine when he told Gi-hun he wished he'd try to be happy after winning (or to better say, surviving) the games. I find it especially interesting when he tells him "Just pretend it was all a dream."

In-ho wishes he could pretend it was all a dream, but he couldn't. Think about it: he's a billionaire, but he lives in a shitty, small apartment. He doesn't talk to his mother, he doesn't talk to his brother, he doesn't even go visit his wife at the cemetery. Pardon me for borrowing the phrase from The Hunger Games, but he's not living the life of a victor. whether it's because he feels guilty or something else, I guess we'll find out in the next season, but that's not the point. The point is, that In-ho wants Gi-hun to do what he wasn't able to do after he won. He wants him to be happy because he sees himself in Gi-hun.

This is the most important point in this post.

Now I wanna focus on these moments. During the second game, during mingle, and during the lights-out massacre, we see Gi-hun being absolutely destroyed over the players that were killed. He's undoubtedly blaming himself for it. And here we see In-ho staring at him, not with the look of love, not with joy at his suffering, but with sorrow. He's sad for Gi-hun, because he could have spared himself further suffering if he didn't stubbornly decide to go back into the games.

What In-ho is thinking right here, in my view, is; "See? There is no hope. There is nothing you can do. Stop torturing yourself, just give it up already. How much more pain do you have to go through before you give up? Accept you can do nothing and go on with your life. Try to be happy."

Now you might be asking, okay, but what does that have to do with romantic love?

Well let me tell you that these feelings I just described can easily and quickly turn into love.

Many philosophers over the centuries have come to the same conclusion; we see part of ourselves in the people we fall in love with.

"The Front Man believes that Gi-hun is wrong in his way of thinking, but perhaps, he reflects on himself through Gi-hun. He does want to destroy Gi-hun's belief. I felt that a small part of him, unknowingly, might be hoping for Gi-hun's thoughts to be right. And rooting for him in some way."

These words Lee Byung Hun said about In-ho, makes me think of Jacques Lacan's theory in particular (which is a rather complex topic and I will try to summarize as shortly and as simply as I can).

For Lacan, love, at least in the beginning, is essentially a form of narcissism. When we fall in love, we're also falling in love with ourselves. We see ourselves in the other person, but we also see in the other what we subconsciously think we are lacking in ourselves. Which doesn't mean the other person will fix us because, at least according to Lacan, this lack is something that can never actually be "fixed".

And I think that's exactly was is happening with In-ho. He sees in Gi-hun what he's lacking in himself. They were traumatized the same way, but reacted in two completely different manners. In-ho became cruel and disillusioned with humanity, while Gi-hun still believes in humanity and wants to save everyone.

I know that this way, 457 seems like a one-sided kind of love, but that's honestly my personal interpretation of the ship. I think Gi-hun could have fallen for Young-il, for the person In-ho was before the games, if they had more time. But the Frontman In-ho? The person he became after becoming the Frontman? There's no way.

Not all loves are meant to happen, not all lovers get to be lovers. Some are meant to just leave us wondering what could have been. Which is what makes transformative works so fun and interesting! From the canonverse toxic fics to the wholesome alternative universe flower shop fics, I think their dynamic is valid as fuck.

I rest my case.

[azrielbrainrot]

Hey! I was thinking — "being overprotective of them in front of prospective partners" or "sharing cloths in a totally friendly way" with Cassian?

I think that's a cute print for him, and I'd love to see it ❤️

I love your writing and stories by the way!! 🥰

Say the Words

Pairing: Cassian x F!Reader

Word Count: 1k

A/N: I'm not sure this is what you had in mind and it turned out a bit angsty for some reason, but I hope you enjoy! Thank you for sending this in and I'm so glad you like my stories 🩷

The frigid winter air hits your burning cheeks, breath turning to mist as you walk away from the bar, but even if it was cold enough for the streets of Velaris to be mostly empty on a friday night, it's still not enough to calm the anger swimming through your body.

You had tried to decline Mor's invitation to come out tonight, preferring to sleep off the tiring week instead of drinking and dancing it away. Ultimately your blonde haired friend had gotten her away yet again, managing to bring everyone along to Rita's for a night out. You were doing your best to enjoy it despite your initial reluctance to come, drinking and dancing with your friends like you usually did.

A very well dressed and admittedly charming male started talking to you when you went to get another drink, his intentions more than clear behind his honeyed words and saccharine smile. You had no plans of going anywhere with him, only trying to choose your words to let him down easy, he hadn't been bothering you too much after all, but Cassian had suddenly showed up at your side, wrapping his arm around you in a possessive manner, scaring the poor male away with just a few words. You think you even saw him puff up his wings. All this to drop his arm as soon as he walked away, turning to go back to your friends like nothing had happened, making your temper rise at an alarming rate and prompting you to walk straight out of the bar, uncaring of the cold or the people calling your name.

The two of you have been toying with the line between friendship and more for years, lingering eyes and meaningful touches crossing it a bit more every day. It seemed that every time you tried to cross it, he took a step back though. You've gotten somewhat used to the push and pull by now, but, maybe because of your already dull mood, it reached a breaking point today.

Heavy footsteps sounded behind you, a sigh escaping your lips. Of course he had followed you outside, he would have followed you to the end of the earth. Knowing that a confrontation would be unavoidable, you slow your pace, sitting on a bench by the river, eyes trained ahead even when he stops by the bench, watching you.

“It's too cold for you to sit here,” he murmurs, voice uncharacteristically serious but as caring as always.

“I don't want to talk, Cassian.”

Except you did, it was probably the only thing that would make you feel better right now. You were just tired of pretending, and it seemed like he insisted on it. You were starting to wonder if he knew how to do anything else.

You can see him nod at your words in the corner of your eye, looking down at the heavy jacket in his hands before taking another step and draping it over your shoulders, his scent enveloping you instantly. You had to close your eyes for a moment, telling yourself not to give in.

“Don't stay here too long, you'll catch a cold.” His hand lingers in the air, looking like he wanted to reach out, but he doesn't, he never does. “You can keep the jacket.”

No sooner the words had left his mouth than he turned around. It makes you look up at him at last, facing his back, wings curled into his back as he walks away slowly, braving the cold in favor of leaving you warm as you stubbornly stayed outside instead of winnowing home. You couldn't understand him at all.

“What are you doing?”

He pauses, body visible tensing as he hears the defeat in your voice. “You said you didn't want to talk.”

“So you'll just leave?” Some of the anger returns, standing up and walking closer to him, waiting for him to turn and look into your eyes, almost daring him to. “What was all of that for then?” Your heart skips a beat when your eyes finally meet, the hazel showing all the things he wouldn't say like they always did, but you were tired of reading them for yourself, you wanted to hear everything from him.

“I was just trying to help.”

“Help?” You can't help but scoff, swallowing down the burning in your eyes, the headache that was creeping in. “If you will not make me yours then you can't act like I am.”

“That wasn't-”

“Since when have you been such a coward?”

“I'm not a coward.”

“You're sure acting like one.”

“What do you want me to say then?” His voice was rising in volume, eyes sharp as he took you in. Good. “That I didn't want him anywhere near you? That I almost ripped off his arm when he reached for your hand? That I don't want anyone else touching you? Is that what you want to hear?”

His hazel eyes burned into yours but you weren't going to back down, not now after finally getting something out of him. You would end this game tonight, one way or another.

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Why don't you want anyone touching me?”

Cassian lets out a breath, eyes moving over your head to watch the river for a moment, gathering his thoughts as you push him into a corner. You were about to repeat the same question, or even throw a few choice words at him when he reached for your neck, bringing your face in closer as he bends down, his touch gentle despite the storm raging inside him.

His lips linger over yours for a second longer, maybe giving you time to push him away, as if you ever would, but his patience seemed to be wearing thin as he kisses you at last, lips moving over yours as his hands hold your waist, pulling you closer into him. Your arms wrap around his neck, getting lost in him before your mind catches up to you, making you reluctantly pull away so you could look into his eyes.

“Say it,” you whisper against his lips.

“Because you're mine.”

A smile breaks out on your face. If it hadn't been for the cold biting your skin, you might have thought this was a dream. Cassian's face mirrors yours as he kisses you again, lifting you up into his arms as you winnow you both home, your mouths only pulling apart when your back hits the mattress.

[itsrainingpandas]

Ever since @vonspe released the NPC version of her OC Scipio, I have had a brain worm with him and my dummy gremlin Crow!Rook. So I wrote a thing!

Scipio belongs to Vonspe , I just admire her art and her drawings have given me joy in these here trying times. Hopefully I can return the favor in a small way. ❤️

Pick Your Poison

She was silent, creeping up on him, crouched with a dagger in her hand. He had his back to her and was none the wiser to the danger. Closer, closer, and then…with a fierce grin, Rook lunged for him.

She landed with the hilt of her blade at the small of his back, snickering. “Oh, Scipio,” she tsked, “You’ve gotten soft! You really should pay attention. You're dead now!”

A chuckle rumbled through him as he turned to peer over his shoulder, looking thoroughly unsurprised. “Am I?” 

Rook looked down. Scipio had shifted his arm behind his back in the split second before she had lunged, gripping a needle in his gloved hand. It was pressed against her leathers, and were this a serious scenario, it could slide past her armor and fill her with poison before she got a good stab in. 

Upon seeing this, Rook burst out laughing. “Oh, no! I’m dead!” She stepped back and resheathed her mageknife, delighted to be bested at her own game. “Oh, you got me. This is so tragic. You'll have to break the news to my many admirers.”

Scipio smirked, pleased with himself even before he said, “I'll be sure to let them both know.”

Rook made a face and moved as though she were going to punch his kidneys. He simply swayed out of her way, unperturbed, before regarding her with amusement. Her childish petulance melted as she grinned, looking back and forth between his eyes. They were striking in their color difference- one so dark it was almost black, one staggeringly blue. He seemed to give in to the fondness, poking at her playfully. “And what brings our Rook to this level of the Diamond today?” 

Rook leaned back against the counter that served as a place to get both drinks and poisons, and hopefully never the wrong one of the two. “I'm looking for a specific poison. Or– a friend of mine is looking for it. A poison.”

Scipio’s eyebrow arched in interest. “Anything fun?”

“No. It's the opposite of fun. Academic things.” Rook’s nose crinkled in distaste. She was never a good student, so she couldn't imagine how or why someone could keep researching past the required schooling. Scipio chuckled as if he could see her thoughts; he had known her as a fledgling, so he wouldn't be surprised by her disdain.

“And this poison,” he continued, rolling up his sleeves and tightening the ribbon keeping his long, dark hair back, “Viago didn't want to do it?”

“Between you and me, he's better at antidotes. Mixing poisons is more your specialty.” Her eyes narrowed in an attempt to look dangerous that was not enough to offset her small stature and full head of bright red curls. “But if you tell him I said that, I’ll deny it and put one of your snakes in your boot.” 

���I’m beginning to think you just came here to threaten me.” 

“Me? Never,” Rook hoisted herself up to sit on the counter, pretending not to notice Scipio’s vaguely disapproving look. She spread her arms wide. “Come on, I wanted to see you! I missed you! Didn't you miss me, Tío?” 

He watched her a moment, and she noticed how tired he looked. Though, to be fair, Scipio always looked tired. After careful consideration, he shook his head and chuckled. “Oh, I suppose it is fun to hear Viago yelling again.” Rook laughed, the opposite of his laugh, loud and attention-drawing. 

"Now," Scipio began placing dubiously unmarked vials on the counter, “what poison is your friend looking for?”

Rook blinked as though she had never thought to ask. “I dunno.” She leaned back on the counter to the point where she could have easily rolled backwards off of it and landed on her head. She scanned the room, but it wasn't hard to spot the odd one out in the sea of Crows.  Rook gave a grand, sweeping wave over her head. “Emmrich! Over here!”

The professor appeared moments later, appearing harried by his standards and remarkably put together by anyone else’s. “Apologies, Rook,” he said sweetly, politely, “Manfred is quite fascinated by this place, so I was keeping an eye on him. I had to stop him from chasing one of the crows around…” he gestured to the birds roosted in the ceiling, who indeed seemed to be watching with some perturbation. Rook snickered at the mental picture before composing herself enough for introductions.

She held a hand out towards Emmrich in presentation. “Scipio, this is Professor Emmrich Volkarin. Emmrich,” Rook turned enough to loop an arm around Scipio’s neck, “this is my Tío Scipio.”

Emmrich smiled, brushing a hand back to smooth his hair which was hardly out of place. “Apologies, again. It's a pleasure to meet you, ah…” his eyes darted towards Rook, unsure, “I'm sorry, could you repeat…?”

“Scipio,” the man finished, bowing slightly at the waist. “A pleasure, professore.” 

Rook hopped down from the counter. “What, he can't call you ‘Tío’?”

Scipio kept his eyes on Emmrich as he dropped his hand on top of Rook’s head. “You are on babysitting duty today, I see?”

She grumbled and pushed his arm away. Emmrich pressed a crooked finger to his mouth in an attempt to disguise an amused smile that did not help her mood. “I don't need babysitting!” Rook snapped. “You know, I make a lot of the decisions for our group.”

“That is true,” Emmrich offered amicably, his gaze shifting the significant height difference between the two Crows. 

“Hmmm,” Scipio considered the information before asking Rook, “So why do you come back here and act like a fledgling?”

Emmrich let out a sound of surprise before leaning on the counter, eyes bright with excitement. “I have noticed that she tends to regress when we come to Treviso! It's very interesting,” he pressed his thumb to his bottom lip, “I wonder if it's a response to childhood stressors. Perhaps–” 

“Emmrich!” Rook whined, betrayed. She would have stomped her foot if the idea of “regression” hadn't taken hold on her mind. But the professor received the complaint and stopped his analysis, mumbling apologies while at least having the decency to look sheepish. 

Scipio, however, had no such scruples. He tilted his chin down, conspiring.“If you do take notes, I’d be happy to review them. I always appreciate new material.”

Emmrich chuckled warmly, much too charmed for Rook’s taste. She groaned as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “I regret introducing you two,” she pouted. "Immediately regret it.”

They were now ignoring her completely, it seemed, exclusively focused on each other. “So, professore,” Scipio smiled faintly, “what poison are you looking for?”

“Ah, yes,” he startled as though he had forgotten why he had come, “I was hoping for concentrated magebane. You see, I want to test its effect on bone–”

“It won't corrode it, if that's what you're hoping for.”

“No!” Emmrich looked appalled by the very idea. “No, it was a thought I had. You see, if it could mark the deceased, then it might deter any necromancers who wander too far afield. Necromancy is a distinguished art, of course, but some do not wish to worry about their deceased. If those bodies could marked as unusable–” 

Rook sighed noisily. “All right, well, if you don't need me…” 

Emmrich didn't even pause, continuing to excitedly explain his theories to a thoughtfully listening Scipio. That was her answer, she supposed. 

Rook wandered around until she found Manfred, who was still peering up at the roosting crows in fascination. She wrapped an arm around the boney cut of his shoulders with a sigh. “I think I accidentally set your dad up on a date,” she murmured to the skeleton. Manfred let out a cheerful, gurgling hiss, though she suspected he had no idea what she was going on about. Well, nothing to do about it. Might as well take advantage of having lost her “babysitter.”

“All right, Manfred,” Rook clapped her hands together, “I'll teach you about the birds up there. But first: we’re going to work on you saying the word ‘shit.’”

Manfred squealed cheerfully once more. Just a fun little surprise for Emmrich later as revenge for the regression idea that would do nothing but prove his point.  

[genderqueerdykes]

Thinking about trans and gender related surveys (that as long as they're not like, from transphobes, I love to take because survey!!!)

But then how almost every single one has "what sex/gender were you assigned at birth" and the answers are "male", "female", and "intersex" and if you're lucky, "other".

There are ones that don't actually dig into or study intersexism in any way that even ask, "if you're intersex, were you assigned male or female at birth", and when the (always perisex) people who created the survey are asked about it, invariably the answer is something like "oh well, the gender/sex you were assigned at birth has an impact on the life you've lived and discrimination you've faced so I thought it was more important than actually asking you about the life you've lived and discrimination you've faced". Like hun, no....

If there is an "other" option, especially on a trans-focused survey, I just put "I will not disclose the agab/asab that was used to erase my intersex identity" down or similar. Like ah yes, let me just give you the label that's been used to force social and medical violence on me for decades so you can pretend to know what I have and have experienced... ha! No.

When will people learn that if you want to know about someone's experiences, you have to ask them about their experiences? It's so simple, but so many people just don't seem to get it!

And while the "were you assigned male female or intersex" ones reek of ignorance, given that the vast majority of intersex people WERE assigned female or male INACCURATELY (and therefore it perpetuates erasure to force people to choose between what was assigned as a form of violence and what they are", I almost hate the ones that force intersex people to disclose the agab/asab that's been weaponized against them more. ESPECIALLY when the survey creator then smugly explains to the multiple intersex people upset about it, "well, it 'tells' me what you've been through" (so I don't have to bother to ask or learn and can just assume)

Like, to my awareness I did not have surgery as an infant, though given my birth and pre-adoption history I have very little way of knowing for sure. I WAS however coerced onto a hormone based "treatment" when the first signs of my sex characteristics changing popped up, which also made my dysphoria significantly worse when I was already suicidal due to being abused. And then I've been told I'm basically [agab] and not "really" intersex (despite the vast majority of the intersex community saying my variation IS) by a lot of the trans community especially.

I mean, what it really boils down to is people asking "but are you male or female intersex". Often to determine whether I'm "boy or girl nonbinary", even.

Like no actually. Knowing my agab tells you nothing about my sex characteristics, socialization, puberty, discrimination and oppression I've faced, and so on. That's the whole point intersex people have been exhaustively trying to make!

I'm not giving you my CAGAB when every time I have before it's been used against me by the very same people that demanded it

Just. GAH.

thank you for taking the time to send this, i really appreciate you making your story heard. i am so sorry you've gone through all of this. it can be such a gauntlet to be a queer intersex person. there's so much behavior and common rhetoric that hurts us because so many people are obsessed with figuring out what genitals a stranger has. the fact that people literally lump nonbinary into girl nonbinary and boy nonbinary.

people do not realize how obsessively binarist & gender essentialist they have being. but it's constant. you shouldn't have to disclose your assigned sex at birth. you shouldn't have to disclose your genitals at all. other queer people shouldn't be dying to know what genitals you have and have had.

[starberry-cupcake]

I'm trying the post-it method and it's really messy but, if it helps, I'll keep it up, because I feel like live-reading doesn't help me out with processing this as much as going back on notes does...god, I sound like palmolive...

previously, in nona del 9:

this happened

this is the general tag for all the recaps I've done

CHAPTER 8 (third house skull, which, I guess, but tangentially)

sriracha girlie from school is still on the case and asks nona to up her game in the surveillance task and pretend she's on a radio call

she doesn't elaborate but I doubt it'd help nona understand much anyway if she does

she's just happy to help

nona has to put little boots in the six-legged dog's feet before going out into the scorching heat, though

it's the summer here, so I feel you, noodle

(bonus info: our new puppy apparently has been aptly named because she has 0 fear and is trying to jump into the pool head first like a maniac)

so nona, because she has no preservation skills either, just like our puppy, thinks is a good idea to pretend like she's talking to coronabeer

she still calls her "crown", but it doesn't make me feel any more ok with her pretend calling coronabeer of all people

wasn't she with BOE and whatnot? what if the enemy is listening?

she invites her to her birthday party on the beach

and I might be too cautious but I know better than to share so much information in the wild outdoors where someone could listen

like 'I'm gonna be in this location at this day, please come steal from me or whatever'

maybe it's just my latine self talking, but be careful out there

how do they trust this girl to not be a hazard on her own?

she's like 8 years old

oh, great, I sound like mercygirl now

nona starts drowsing off and a bible chapter comes in, which people have told me is her sleeping

gonna remind everyone I didn't find that out on my own

that's not a victory for me

JOHN 15:23

"Whoever hates me hates my Father as well" is the bible verse in this one

well, then

I haven't read the bible this much since I was in my second school (out of 4)

so here we are again with dr. reverend emperor john buttface's monologue

there's a distraction tactic possibility to get him killed, if we ever need one

he mentions the eye color change as things get weird with their experiments

and says cassiopeia?? potentially? or cyrus? told him he looked like edward cullen "from that old movie twilight"

like I'm not gonna clock dr. reverend emperor john having read twilight with his own two changing eyes

so dr reverend emperor john the menace and his terrible lyctors start doing awful things to the corpses that aren't rotting

allegedly due to dr reverend emperor john "loving them"

whatever that means

and the corpses remain undamaged

what I'd like to point out here is that these people are deranged and god awful even when they hadn't been 25 million years old

this is them brand new from the package and they're all either terrible or complicit in being terrible

I think cassiopeia is the only one visibly suffering but still, man

these people were always like this, this isn't some "we've been out in space so long we've lost touch with our humanity"

happy out of touch thursday, this is you, this has always been you

dr reverend emperor john starts talking about touching the corpses' hands and feeling them even when they aren't there with him

mercygirl is doubting his sanity

yet still they all followed him to hell, so who's crazier here

they picked two corpses, a guy and a gal, to make more specific experiments on, and he named them ulysses and titania

titania after the shakespeare character

ulysses not after the greek hero

and by controlling their hands from across the room I guess they discover necromancy

he's still talking to harrow through all this

CHAPTER 9 (sixth house skull, but at what cost?????)

sriracha girle tells nona that, after her imaginary phone call with coronabeer, the ceaseless watcher left the building

literally

nobody knows what this means but sriracha girlie is still on the case

then they start hearing shots outside and everyone has their safety precautions but they're all bored about it instead of afraid

wish this was just a fiction thing and not the current world

so everyone gets picked up except for sriracha girle, as ush

camilla comes to pick up nona from school and gets pastries (aka facturas, where I'm from)

camilla is doing the lord's work here

she got them by selling out pyrrha's cigarettes, apparently, which I find a great exchange but I don't smoke, so I'm obviously team facturas

then, we get a nona flashback from a month prior, about the Event which prevents them from going swimming anymore

they used to go to the sea at dusk to have some private time with the water

and by them I mean nona went swimming, because the sea is filled with deadly jellyfish, so they'd kill a regular person, but not nona

she can swim with the jellyfish, which sounds beautiful, actually

the whole swimming description is so relaxing and beautiful and I am hating this heat but I'm grateful for the swimming opportunity it provides

swimming is great

swimming with jellyfish without dying must be great

relaxing moment for 3.5 seconds for everyone

of course things can't be relaxing for too long, this is tlt we're talking about

nona sees some people surrounding camilla and guesses it must be the police

which, in every universe, is a Problem

tons of police men surrounding one woman, yeah, doesn't look great

but I was fine because this is camilla fucking hect we're talking about

no cops at pride, just camilla and knives

nona can't hear their conversation but, at one point, she can hear camilla say "speak House"

which ??????????????????????'

doesn't sound good AT ALL

nona sees one of them pointing a gun and warns camilla, which earns nona a shot through the shoulder

so then, when nona resurfaces, she finds everyone lying motionless and camilla squatting on the sand

and I was like "of course my baby did that"

but then nona looks at her and she's got one camilla eye and one palmolive eye

and is talking like camolive is some sort of dragon ball fusion

they ask nona not to freak out

I'm freaking out

camolive's timer starts going like crazy and they ask nona to drive them home

camilla comes back to herself at this point BUT

she's bleeding everywhere

like, blood coming out of her skin

it's everywhere

nona asks her to get palmolive but camilla says they can't

so nona has to drive them home in the middle of the night with the blood and the salty water and the potential police following

nona thankfully can manage and pyrrha says camilla is in thanergy shock

she says they can never do that again and that if palmolive wasn't sharing a body with her, she'd be kicking his ass

AND I WOULD BE TOO

PALMOLIVE, I SAID IT LAST RECAP, MAN

YOU HAD ONE JOB

KEEPING CAMILLA SAFE

WHAT ARE YOU DOING??????

camilla asks them to not tell palmolive she was "weak"

pyrrha drinks in camilla's honor while she's recuperating and nona asks her why she said goodbye to her if she's gonna be fine

to which pyrrha asks how does she know she was saying goodbye

basically, camilla is not dying but she's also not fine

which I got from the very heavy bleeding, thank you very much doctor pyrrha

if something happens to camilla I swear to whatever god that isn't the monologuing prick in the sleeping chapters I'm gonna go feral

PALMOLIVE I'M GOING TO CHASE YOU DOWN

AND THAT'S IT FOR THIS RECAP!!! I think the post its system is better for me?? I'll figure it out as I go. See you on the next one!!!

[antioceas]

" ... Because... he is my father. Because I... I am his daughter. " It was the same excuse as before. There was a certain expectation and Luna felt bad for not honoring it.

Had he figured out the plan her father had? About spying on the king? Sending coded messages back in those otherwise casual letters? As long as her head remained bowed, face turned to the ground, the guard couldn't see the look of terror that flashed in her eyes. Still, he could see the way her limbs shook. Would that be enough?

" ... He doesn't like me very much, " That was still true, even if she was hiding behind the words like a shield, " It's why he chose me to go over my brother. " Not that she suspected Felix would have accepted Darius. Not only was he too old, but Luna was far the better behaved child - at least for those who weren't Pierce Freede.

" But what if my father does something bad? Then you're gonna hurt me too. " And most likely far more. And knowing the rebel, Just because Luna was kept captive didn't mean anything. It wouldn't stop the rebel from trying again. And again. Her life didn't matter in the long time.

" I'm... trying to do my best and it won't matter. " Now, her words turned into sobs as she buried her face into her arms, still facing the floor. Shoulders trembled and Luna felt herself go limp. There was no point in pretending to be strong anymore. To be put together.

Jeremy sighed and leaned his head back, staring up at the ceiling. Why did this have to be so damn hard? How he wished anyone else had been tasked with this. Did he not have better things to do than look after some girl? Her movement bringing his attention back to her. But he didn't expect her to have fallen to her knees.

"Why is that a bad thing? He planned to kill your king. Planned to take over the land for himself. Why would you miss him?" A stupid question. They were talking about her father, is it not normal to miss your parents? But she wasn't. That, that is what bothers her, it seemed. Thinking about this for a second, Jeremy realized something. The guard stood up suddenly and walked over to her kneeling form. Staring down at her.

"He just let you go. You are his daughter, and he let us take you with barely any words of goodbyes even." Trying to remember what the traitor had said when they arrived to take her. "And now you're not missing him." Something didn't sit right. Maybe the two just didn't like each other. You can't choose your family after all. But what if it was something else. All of this just felt too easy. And the guard hadn't realized it until now when they were speaking of the man.

He didn't expect those two words from the girl. But who wouldn't be scared at her age? Averting his gaze, thinking hard about how to go on from here. "You are a ward. We cannot hurt you. It defeats the purpose, doesn't it? You were taken here to control your father. And if we do anything against you, even if the traitor is doing what he's told. Then why should he listen? Why should he let us try and control him. You are safer here than out there with them."

For now.

Who knew what the king truly had planned. And if Jeremy accidentally managed to uncover something. Maybe it's nothing but... His Highness wouldn't just let that slide.

[velvetvexations]

lmao you disgusting ass manipulator pretending like saying "just because you are a sub you are not incapable of sexual harm and violating transfems boundaries isn't taken seriously at all" is "all transmascs must apologize for existing"

One clown nose for you and one for that anon.

I actually know that non-transmascs can equally reduce me to my dick because both transmascs and non-transmascs have repeatedly done that to me in the past. But it was transmascs Miss Velvie was positioning as having kinks for being raped and therefore innocent of commiting rape. Pointing out that being a sub in that situation does nothing to prevent sexual harm is the coldest take in the world.

🤡

I'm so curious about which one of yall is talking about me rn* because this is the third or fourth hater in a couple of hours.

Anyway, the thing that was being responded to was "all transmascs who discuss transandrophobia are into detrans dykebreaking" when I'm pretty sure literally none of them are,** so what was actually going around the point was "but what if transmascs were sexually coercive in THIS way?".

God, do you remember the girlies blowing their top because I said radfems had sexually coercive tendencies and this was literally the same as calling all trans women groomers?

*Plaidos talked about me just the other day, apparently, and I'll get to that.

**and no the coiner of the term indulged a transfem with the kink it was not that person's own

[shepherds-of-haven]

Hi Lena! Was going through some old asks and was curious, if Junoth was part of the Shepherds in the game how would he get along with the other characters?

I know he does exist doing his own thing from the short stories but pretending like that isn’t the case lol

Hi anon, this is such a fascinating question! Give me a second to think on it...

...Okay! I'm going to go with the novel version of Junoth, or as best as I could transfer him: a spry, gamboling, youthful Ket (Khehi-Ket from Chicora, specifically, soldier class) with a lanky build, fox-orange hair, tan skin, and pointed, pixie-ish features. Energetic, enthusiastic, exuberant, vigorous, but fairly puppy-like and, unfortunately, a bit dumb. He has his clever moments, but he largely needs most things explained to him... simply, or he'll just stare at you with a blank, well-meaning look of confusion, like, "Okay.................. ...I don't get it." 🤦🏻‍♀️ Raucous, boundlessly optimistic, and full of determination and zeal, he gives off strong "little brother" energy, but not as cute or childlike as Caine. More like your maddening, half-grown 19-year-old brother who casually goes through your stuff even though you keep telling him to stay out and inadvertently (or possibly deliberately) says insensitive stuff about you in front of your crush or pranks you so unceasingly that you just want to strangle him. More on him here for folks who aren't familiar!

Blade: Blade and Junoth were childhood friends in the novels, so it's hard for me to separate that out and say they wouldn't be at least reluctant friends in the game! I'm going to quickly headcanon a scenario where Blade started the Shepherds and his childhood friend/old second-in-command showed up to help out, having handed in his resignation to follow his old friend and commanding officer Blade into the great unknown 🥹 So they'd definitely be friends, even though Blade would act even more annoyed by him than he does with Trouble (but still less so than Chase. ...Or Red.). It'd be a friendship borne of long tolerance and experience and history!

Trouble: they'd be fast friends! I can't imagine what unholy terror they would reign with Chase rounding off the trio. (Well, I suppose I can imagine it, because they did it in the novels.) I think he'd be closer to Junoth out of almost anyone else in the Shepherds, especially because Junoth would remind him of some of the boys he grew up with in his street gang. They'd always be underfoot, smoking charch and giggling together like schoolboys and planning some kind of mischief

Tallys: I think she'd either be indifferent to Junoth or would find him soooo annoying lol, he's pretty loud and reckless and bursting with an energy that would most likely give her a headache. She'd probably do her best to avoid him! She likes calm energy like Shery or Halek or Riel, and with her lifespan, she'd probably look at Junoth and think he's even more of a kid than the rest of the non-Elves 😭

Shery: I think she'd like having him around! Junoth is pretty biddable and approachable, as well as naturally a follower, so she'd find him very easy to talk to and approach! He's the very picture of non-threatening, which made him somewhat of an oddball in Ket society. If she could get him to settle down, she'd probably have a pretty tame assistant who'd be willing to help her out whenever she needed, so she'd enjoy his company a lot!

Riel:

Ohhhhh he would want to die. He could deal with Trouble. But Chase... and then you throw Briony into the mix... Privately he would refer to Junoth in his head as 'The Migraine.' Partially because Junoth is fond of dressing in extremely loud and clashing colors. It would set off Riel's neuroticism just to look at him. He'd also think Junoth is something of a rube. 'What's the rube bleating about today?' Ah, it's something about a drinking contest. Of course. His antipathy wouldn't manifest as cold disdain the way it does with Chase--he just wouldn't really have anything to say to Junoth most days, and if he did, it would be with bland professionalism--but if Junoth were to ever leave, Riel would feel a slight nostalgia for his persistent good-heartedness, at least. So they wouldn't be friends, but Riel also wouldn't hate him!

Chase: Good, goooooooood, Anakin! A third compatriot to round out the Three Chaosmigos! And he'd enjoy Junoth's blunt honesty and unadulterated way of looking at the world, though privately he'd shake his head at the endless optimism. He'd take Junoth under his wing instantly and then corrupt him to unfounded levels. Junoth's somewhat innocent boyishness would be converted to all kinds of misadventures. Junoth would certainly emerge more educated in the ways of the world... but at what cost?

Red: they'd be friends just like Red is friends with pretty much everyone else in the inner circle, but they wouldn't be like hanging out one-on-one, it would mostly be just in a group setting! He'd enjoy Junoth's presence and personality and respect him as a companion, but they don't have enough in common to be really interested in each other!

Ayla: She'd be a big fan of Junoth, honestly. At first she'd act a little annoyed by him because all of the cool kids do, but in actuality she'd find his enthusiasm and non-threatening, honest energy infectious and would really enjoy spending time with him. They'd probably come to be good friends with a sibling relationship; her, the tough, worldly older sister who he'd look to for advice, him the guileless and loyal ingenue she's always wanted to have around. They'd get along very well!

Briony: She'd love Junoth!!! She'd be obsessed with him, honestly. Instant brother to her. They'd be great friends and just pal around all the time, each feeding the other's natural energy, excitement, and enthusiasm. Have you ever seen two friends or siblings who are just constantly hyping each other up? That would be them. I actually think Junoth would become her best friend if he were around!

Halek: There would be much groanings and complaints from him whenever Junoth was in the vicinity. The guy is loud and boisterous, both to look and to hear, and he'd be a constant disruption to Halek's attempts to nap! In actuality, they'd get along pretty okay, but they wouldn't really be close friends. They wouldn't have enough in common or be truly compatible enough to be so.

Lavinet: for some reason I feel like Junoth would be stunned by Lavinet! Not exactly on the level of a crush, but he'd get a bit stammery and flummoxed around her, mostly because being around a beautiful noblewoman would be so far outside the scope of his typical experience that he'd default to a kind of meek and worshipful politeness that she'd end up enjoying very much. It would kind of be like a stableboy/footman to princess energy between them, and of course she's going to enjoy that: who wouldn't appreciate such honest and respectful admiration?? He'd probably be devoted to her LOL

Thanks for the fun question!

[luvnanako]

Helping Jinx ✮⋆˙

Jinx x F! Reader (wlw, fluff)

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁---─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─---. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

"Okay, toots, now… gimme that little thingy with the blue stripes on the bottom." Jinx's voice rings out with her usual playful energy as she points vaguely toward a cluttered pile of tools and parts. It’s that time of the week again—helping your girlfriend build her chaotic little gadgets. And by "helping," she mostly means handing her whatever she needs while she dives headfirst into her creative frenzy.

From crafting monkey bombs, guns, and grenades to making ridiculously impractical things like tiny glowing lights, weird belts, and other odd tripnkets, her workshop is always buzzing with activity. Of course, in typical Jinx fashion, she always manages to find time to whip up something just for you, too.

---------------------------------------------------

You carefully pick up the item she asked for and place it on her crafting table with a soft thud. "Yeaah, that one!" she exclaims, tossing off her oversized goggles to give you a wide, mischievous grin. "Keep this up, and you might just earn some more kisses later," she adds, her tone dripping with her usual teasing charm.

You cross your arms, leaning casually against the table as you smirk at her. "What can I say? I'm a crafty one. At this rate, you might as well call me your most loyal servant," you reply, letting out a soft laugh and playfully winking at her.

Jinx picks up a pink marker from the side of her table, glancing at you with a mock serious expression. "Oh my god, what did you eat today? I think you might be sick, toots," she teases, sticking her tongue out as she starts doodling a little face on one of her monkey bombs.

"Yeah, well, I guess you’re just a bad influence on me," you quip back, laughing softly as you bump her shoulder.

Jinx gasps dramatically, placing a hand on her chest. "Who, me? Nuh-uh, I don’t know who you take me for, but I have nothing but an *amazing* influence on you." She finishes her drawing with a flourish, spinning the bomb around to show you. "What do you think? Pretty sweet, right?"

You lean in closer, pretending to examine her work critically. "Looks good, but maybe add a little heart on it," you suggest with a grin.

Without hesitation, Jinx grabs a blue marker and draws a small heart on the bomb, then scribbles both your initials inside it. "Voilà! Perfect now!" she declares, beaming with pride.

You can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm as you step behind her, wrapping your arms around her waist and resting your chin on her shoulder. "I wouldn’t actually mind getting bombed by this one," you say, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek and giggling.

Jinx chuckles, tilting her head back to look at you. "Be careful what you wish for," she says with a smirk, puckering her lips dramatically.

You roll your eyes but lean down to give her a quick peck. "Awhh, come on, toots, you can do better than that," she pouts, her lips curling into a playful little frown as she looks up at you with wide, cat-like eyes.

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. "You’re such a brat, you know that?"

"And you *love* it," she shoots back, grinning as she spins her chair around to face you, grabbing your hand to pull you closer.

Jinx pulls you closer until your knees bump into hers, her wild grin softening into something almost tender. "Admit it," she whispers, her voice dropping to a teasing murmur, "you'd be bored out of your mind without me."

You arch an eyebrow, smirking as you look down at her. "Oh, absolutely. My life would be so dull without the constant threat of explosions and chaos."

Jinx lets out a loud laugh, leaning back in her chair as she spins in a slow circle, arms out dramatically. "Exactly! I'm your spark, toots. Your chaos. Your muse!"

You shake your head, trying not to laugh as she grabs your hand mid-spin to stop herself. The motion pulls you closer until you’re standing between her legs. For a moment, the energy in the room shifts, the buzz of her gadgets and tools fading into the background.

Jinx looks up at you with a crooked smile, her fingers still loosely wrapped around yours. "You know," she says softly, "I don’t let just anyone into my workshop. You're kinda special."

Your chest tightens at her sudden sincerity, but you don’t let her get away with it too easily. "Special enough for you to put our initials on a bomb?" you tease, gesturing to the monkey bomb she decorated.

"Exactly," she replies with a wink. "That’s how you know it’s true love."

You laugh, shaking your head as you lean down to press your forehead against hers. "You’re impossible," you murmur, smiling.

"And you’re stuck with me," she counters, her voice light but filled with meaning.

"Yeah," you whisper, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "And I wouldn’t have it any other way."

Jinx's smirk grows, and before you can say anything else, she grabs the monkey bomb from the table, holding it up proudly. "Now let’s go see if this baby works!"

You groan, stepping back as she hops to her feet, her excitement practically vibrating off her. "I’m starting to rethink this whole 'helping you' thing," you say, but your smile betrays you.

"Too late, toots!" she calls over her shoulder, already bounding toward the door. "You’re in this with me now!"

And just like that, you find yourself chasing after her, laughing as she drags you into another whirlwind of chaos and invention—because that’s what life with Jinx is all about.

૮₍ ´ ꒳ `₎ა

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A/N heyyyy I'm currently making Caitlyn vampire au 2nd part so I made this one as a little filler! I hope you enjoyed reading this and I'm so so sooo grateful for all the feedback!

[littlelambscandyland]

What's Best For You

Yandere!Cg!Eobard Thawne x Little!Reader

Warnings- Kidnapping, Forced Regression, Accidental Self Injury, Incorrect Medical Knowledge, Cursing, Milk, Bottle Feeding

"Let me out!" You scream. "Let me out!"

Your hands clash against the door. Thick metal that you couldn't leave a dent on. The door wouldn't budge no matter what pressure you could put on.

Your cries die in your throat, and you're almost certain you've torn your vocal cords. The point is proven even more when you go to scream again only for blood to catch in the back of your mouth.

Tears gather and drop down your face. Dread filled your stomach. You slouched down to the floor, body filled with tension and exhaustion.

You wish you knew why he did this. What did Thawne gain from this? Why were you here? Why would he do this? You just wanted to go home. You just don't understand. You never fought him. Was he doing this to get at Barry or was this something else entirely?

All the anxiety piling up until your exhaustion eats you and you fall asleep on the floor.

~~~~

You felt so warm. Strong arms hold you close, you feel like you're in heaven. If only your throat didn't hurt so much. A hum played on your lips but as soon as it slipped through a cough rapture your throat. A hand rubs your back and a voice shushes your panic.

Your face remains buried in the man's chest. A blanket wrapped you up in their arms. You try to remember why you were here. What had happened. Slowly your mind clears.

The Reverse Flash kidnapped you.

Your breathing grows heavy and you try to push yourself away from the man. You aren't safe.

"Shush, shh, shhh..." His voice drags out.

His arms wrap you tightly rendering your pushing useless. The pain in your throat worsens as you try to scream at him.

What was going on? What were you supposed to do?

A rumble passes through his chest before he smacks your butt. The sting shocking you for a second causing you to still.

"Don't be a brat, I'm trying to help you." Eobard says angrily.

Despite your senses telling you to fight him off you go limp in his arms. A bit of blood dribbles down your lips from the broken screaming. He pulls you back slightly and scans your face. Blue eyes and an unreadable face meets with puffy eyes and a wet face.

He sighs. "You're okay..." He wipes the blood from your chin. "You won't be able to talk for a while, you tore your vocal cords." Eobard informs you simply. "Such a fragile thing... I know you're scared." His eyes hold something you're afraid to identify. "I'm not going to hurt you."

You turn your face away, you don't want to see those eyes anymore.

"Come on, Y/n." You can practically hear him roll his eyes. "You can't pretend you didn't want this, someone to take care of you, to love you, protect you."

Your brows furrowed at his words. What was he even saying? You don't need anyone to "take care" of you. You especially didn't need Eobard Thawne to take care of you! You wanted to scream at him, but you knew your throat couldn't handle it. You wanted to punch him, hit him, but you were afraid of what might happen if you did.

Eobard stood up, from what you'd just realized was a recliner, with you in his arms. Defiantly, you tried to kick your legs down only for the man to tighten his hold with one arm and pull a leg back up with the other. A simple "Don't." playing off his lips.

He carries you to a bathroom where he sets you on the counter, back facing the large mirror. He wets a towelette with warm water and gently runs it down your face. Wiping away the tears, blood, and snot.

"There we go..." His hand rests on your cheek as his thumb rubs it gently. "Already being such a good baby for daddy."

Your eyes widen. What did he mean by that? Why the hell did he call himself that?

"No, no... Don't start that again." He says picking you back up. "I've got you." He tries to soothe while rocking you lightly.

You wanted to tell him to stop, to put you down, to just let you go home. What kind of game was this? Where were you? What was this place? Why is he acting like this?

Eobard holds you securely against his chest. One second your being rocked in the large bathroom and the next you're both standing in an even larger kitchen. The sudden movement makes you dizzy.

"If I sit you down will you behave?" He asks, brushing your hair away.

You turn your face away in a small act of defiance. What the hell could you do against him anyways? You're not as strong, and definitely not as fast as he is.

The blue eyed man sighs. "I'm going to heat up some milk, okay, honey? It'll help with your throat." His voice comes out softer than you were comfortable with.

Fucking milk, is he serious? What were you two?

He adjusts you to his hip resting you there and keeping you stable with one arm. He puts some milk into a small pot and lets it heat. A song plays past the man's lips in a hum. A song you have never heard, but sounds like a lullaby.

For once Eobard Thawne wasn't yelling or violent, he seemed at peace. It was heartwarming and terrifying. He seemed genuinely happy rocking you while heating up the milk.

It hit you harshly, the whole point of you being here. He wants you to be his kid. Why wouldn't he just get an actual child? Not that you'd want an actual child to be subjected to him, but truly, you just didn't understand.

Why you?

You're pulled out of your thoughts when Eobard lays a kiss to your forehead. Your eyes meet his and there's that spark in them that you've seen a few times before. It was the same look he gave you before the team found out who he was; the look he gave when you got hurt and he'd help Caitlin patch you up.

You look away as quickly as you meet his eyes. The depth being simply too much for you. You hear him huff what you can only assume is an odd laugh.

You hadn't realized he'd turned off the stove and poured the milk into a bottle. You hadn't realized that he had laid the both of you in a bed. Not until now at least.

Eobard tucks you into his side and pulls the bottle up to your lips. You hesitate for a moment before pushing his hands away.

Did he actually think you'd just go with it?

You scuffle only for a moment before he has your arms pinned with one hand.

"Stop fighting me." He rasps out angrily.

He shifts himself slightly lower, drags you deeper into his side, and holds your arms tightly.

"Drink." He demands holding the bottle to your lips.

Despite yourself you listen this time. The sting in your arms makes you more compliant in hopes he'll release his grip.

The second the milk hits the back of your mouth your eyes water. As much as the liquid hurt it soothed. The creamy texture relaxes you.

With your compliance, Eobard releases your arms. You let the man hold the bottle and you until it's gone. Your eyes droop and you struggle to keep them open.

"Go to sleep, little one... You're safe... Daddy's got you..." Eobard whispers encouragingly to you.

As scared as you were you couldn't help but find comfort in the actions and words. The world blurs together and you drift off comfortably in the man's arms.

[sofixt0k]

If we are right, and we are, I believe in Byler because I was both.

I was Mike, I wasn't thinking about love until the girls around me stopped playing hide and seek and started talking about boys. Until they started asking me if I liked any boy. And I felt completely out of place with them, so I invited a love interest from a city where I had relatives, so I could tell them about him and seem normal. I was never homophobic, but I didn't think I could be gay until I was Ten (I invented this whole boy thing when I was eight/nine). I also started to act totally stupid for not being myself, I was an idiot when I was 11/12, I know I was pathetic, I wasn't myself, I was still trying to be normal in everyone's eyes. And it wasn't just about pretending to have feelings for boys anymore, it was about pretending that I didn't like certain things, like video games, youtubers, music, clothes, definitely... I thank the pandemic, because without it I would never (or maybe I would have arrived too late) have my moment to be with myself and find what I want.

And I was also Will, the fact that I realized at age 14 that maybe (definitely) I had feelings for my ex-best friend that I had from the age of five to eleven. How did it get to a point where I started to get stressed out because everyone around me only talks about love and there are only couples (maybe I'm still stuck in this and it still makes me feel out of place). As I literally said the same sentence "I'm not going to fall in love." ( I don't remember exactly if it was like that, sorry ), As I have also complained to certain people like Will did with Mike in s3/s4, and that my complaints NEVER had to do with love, what always mattered most to me was friendship. I've always felt like an oddball, and it's weird, you know? I've already graduated, I'm starting university this year, and at school I always got the best grades, the teachers loved me and I laughed with some colleagues, but that doesn't stop me from always, and maybe still... feeling like a mistake.

Sometimes it's inevitable not to want Byler to be endgame when I often see myself in them, in some way I hate anti-Byler when they say it's nonsense because I feel like they discredit me too.

I have suffered bullying, I have received homophobic comments, I have been teased for being a nerd, but I have long since accepted the fact that I was born to do it. I have let myself be consumed by my problems and thoughts and that has ruined me, since I do not talk about things with others (Mike) and I am disinterested with my feelings, and I only seek well-being of those I love (Will).

So yeah, I'm mad at the obsessive milkvans who hate the Bylers. There is already a LOT of "normal" straight teen content out there for you to relate to.

Stranger Things is literally about WEIRD THINGS, nerdy people, rejected people, people with family problems, people with personal problems, gays, machismo, heteronormality...

Byler is not about wanting two men to kiss and get married and adopt blah blah, it's not a fetish.

This is about a story. Byler is about being a Story. A story that many of us on the margins, including myself, can relate to.

And a story that will go down in history (excuse the redundancy), being portrayed as one of the most realistic versions of what "fitting in" and being "normal" means.

[maxdibert]

Am I the only one who thinks the Marauders Era fandom was a cool concept, but the ships ruined it? Like, I'm not against ships at all, but I have seen what random pairings and ship wars can do to fandoms. I was in the mha fandom, and lemme tell you...the way these ships made the community look like pure shit is disappointing.

When I was first grazing my little curious fingers through the aisle of fandoms and stumbled across a video explaining the Marauders Era, I was understandably intrigued. "Woah! A fandom where my fannons can be cannon ? A fandom where I can write cool fics about teen wizards in the 90s? Awesome!" And for a very short period of time, it was like that. Then I came across jegulus. I didn't agree with it, so I ignored it.

Then Wolfstar. Didn't agree with it, so I ignored it. Lily x Marlene or Mary. At this point, I was just respecting the ships and sharing my innocent opinion on them. What happened after? Death threats, people bashing on my writing I had spent MONTHS making. I wanted to do something like atyd and create my own characterization of the characters and the plot so it could connect close to the cannon and fluidly move into what would become Harry Potter.

Apparently, that was blasphemy. I've yet to leave this fandom because, thank Yahweh, there are people with brains, but I must admit, the potential was wasted.

I’ll tell you a story. Not too long ago, back in 2008, 2009, 2010, or even earlier, the Marauders Era fandom also existed, and it was actually pretty fun. People were very canon-compliant, and even if a ship was a bit crack, they tried to stick to the characters’ actual personalities instead of making them excessively OoC. There were mlm and flf pairings, but there were also hetero ships, and no one bashed anyone for shipping Sirius with other characters or even with women. No one tried to turn James into some kind of cuddly clown; he stayed the egotistical jerk that he was. And no one invented random OCs, slapped names from the books onto them, and pretended they were canon like “Pandora Nobodycares.”

The Slytherins we knew were the ones mentioned in the books—they didn’t hang out with the Gryffindors and had their own space to be terrible jerks (but fun). No one tried to pinkwash them and turn them into “precious uwu martyrs of the LGBT struggle.” People didn’t bash Snape or exclude him from the fandom; the haters just briefly mentioned him in their fics and moved on because there was an unspoken rule that character bashing was out of place. Everyone coexisted in harmony—the fandom didn’t make you cringe or fill you with rage, and no one showed up to spew garbage at you for not shipping their faves or for daring to represent characters true to the books instead of some pubescent fantasy version in need of cyber hand-holding.

Even I, who now throw plenty of shade, used to hang out in groups and forums full of James Potter fans without any conflict because people could debate civilly, and they didn’t say insane things like someone “deserving” to be sexually assaulted. I don’t know if it’s because people back then had actually read the books and respected the characters or simply because they had brains, but the current state of the fandom clearly lacks either of those things.

It’s honestly barbaric that there are people dumb enough to attack other people’s creations. There are Severus pairings I don’t like at all, but you’ll never see me talk trash about them, their fans, or go into a fic to bash them. I wouldn’t even consider it. Honestly, it doesn’t surprise me that these people admire and justify bullying—they’re just a pack of bullies. And worse yet, they’re the kind of bullies who don’t even have the guts to do it in real life, so they hide behind anonymity to do it.