#I. how would I. that’s his name and also the series name.

[yandere-wishes]

Can't get this thought out of my head!! It's been driving me crazy all night~🌸

Sorry this is so utterly random, but I can't stop thinking about how similar Poison Ivy is to Venus Mcflytrap!! Like yeah I know it's so obvious but it's never occurred to me before.

So I propose this...

Reader who has powers like Venus: Plant mimicry, Chlorokinesis, and has the mind control pollen (guess that makes her like Ivy too).

Reader who has vines growing on her arms and legs that have thorns and roses, reader who just wants to be like her mentor/adopted mother and save the planet from the horrendous humans running it, reader whose hero name is either Flytrap or Blood-Rose (or maybe Ivy has two side kicks who knows)

Now imagine a batboy, I'm thinking either Tim or Jason fall in love with her.

If it's Jason then the reader obviously has a more punk aesthetic, her words and actions are harsh but her heart is made of pure gold. She loudly protests on the streets, vandalizes anything that she deems a hazard to the earth, and isn't afraid of throwing punches when face to face with the defilers of the earth (literally anyone, I'm thinking she would start fights for stepping on flowers, breaking tree branches, mistreating animals even, oh and def littering.) and this is all as a civilian. As a rouge she's unhinged, she lacks her mentor's grace, she goes in monster veins swinging. Ready to break skulls. Maybe she really is more monstrous compared to Ivy who uses seduction as her greatest assist. Reader instead has venus flytraps sprouting from her shoulders/back that she uses as weapons. Her veins and flytraps have given Jason more broken bones than he'd like to admit. Yet somehow he's always sad when the cartilage heels, almost as if it's scrubbing off all traces of her.

If it's Tim then reader is more of a mad scientist, she's always locked up in her room. Coming up with new plants that she finds stunning, and everyone else finds utterly terrifying!! She makes her mother proud by making new planets capable of taking back the earth and planting them where they can do the most harm. Her creations have literally wrecked skyscrapers. I'm thinking she would have roses and thorns sprouting from all over her body. Definitely a bit insecure. Since she's always hidden away. When Tim is tasked with hunting down whoever is behind the new

killer plant attacks. He tracks her to Ivy's hideout. Que a "meet cute" where Tim is trying to bring her to justice and reader is trying to kill him. But she's not good at fighting, she does however end up drawing blood with her thorns!! When it's over Tim has destroyed her lab and new creations and finally gone home. He finds he can't get her out of his head! He thinks it's the pollen, maybe because of her pricking him...but turns out he's really falling in love.

The third option is my favorite trope that I've never really written about (it's coming up in the Catfam series too) but Yandere! Bruce Wayne/Batman falling in love with his rogue's sidekick. Under the pretense of "saving them". He'd end up kidnapping her locking her away in the manner. Ultimate princess treatment only catch is she's tied up and He's found a way to shut off her powers!! 💞💋💞💋💞 utterly obsessed with unhinged Bruce!! Trying to play hero but also so psychotically in love!!

Now because I'm me I have to add in a fourth option of Harvey Dent. I remember shipping him and Ivy as a kid (yes my perspective of love was screwed up even then) So maybe Ivy's little helper developed a crush on Big Bad Harv, one the Harvey wants to use to get back at Ivy with. But her puppy dog crush is so endearing that both sides of him start to get addicted!! She finds him so so beautiful, adores both sides of him. She even decorates his half and half apartment with flowers. Cuter brighter flowers on Harvey's side (sunflowers, orange blossom, sakura) and darker "creepier" things for Harv (Flyraps, black dahlia, thorn veins).

Should I just throw in one for Damian too? Like, remember that one comic where Ivy creates planet children? Maybe she does that and Reader is born. Obviously, she has accelerated growth and the same values and obsessions as her "mother". She's created her to be the ultimate savior to carry on her legacy and succeed. There is so much of her Damian can relate to, so much about her that pricks at his heart when he sees her blooming under the sun. 🥺💋🥺💋. Ivy would totally call her "my sapling" or "my little bloom". Damian hears the nicknames and repeats them much to the reader's surprise and disgust.

Is this anything??

[cheerysmores]

My wife once told me she would never play Baldur's Gate 3 because 'it's that slut game.' One year later she finally caved and did her very first playthrough.

May I present: Mrs. Cheery's chaotic gremlin adventure to Baldur's Gate.

Act 1

Our hero is the drow fighter, Lady Coolio. To this day we do not know whether Lady is her name or her title. She has a big sword, big tits and one goal: get to The Baldur's Gate with no distractions.

Escaped the 'Meat Bus' (Nautaloid). "Right how close am I to Baldur's gate? Like three hours?"

Sold her camp clothes by accident and was very sad that all she had to run around in was a grey hobo sack. (No mods. Sorry wife)

Asked if Withers was Solas's Dad.

Lady Coolio calls Astarion rat boy. In Wifey's words “he told me ‘when I was a little lad Cazador made me eat rats.’”

To be fair she isn't great with names so Halsin = Hoisin Sauce, Lae'zel = onion lady, Volo = Volvo, Cazador = Calzone (sometimes)

In camp: Gale "I'd like to show you something rather magical". Lady Coolio: "I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOUR MAGIC PENIS"

“There are so many dead bodies everywhere this entire place has got to stink” (just act 1 generally)

Act 2

Ran into the shadow cursed lands very under levelled and Last Light inn instantly got sacked. Bad news as she was romancing Karlach and now can’t get her second upgrade. Lady Coolio firmly blames Isobel for "triggering like three opportunity attacks when she could have... not done that."

Died to the shadow curse a LOT. Her: “Why is everyone dying????” Me: “Remember the moon lantern?” Her: “The what?” Me: “… that thing with the swearing pixie in it” Her: “ I still have to use that????” Me: “ yes, because Isobel is dead” Her: "WHY IS SHE STILL CAUSING PROBLEMS."

Hates the Gauntlet of Shar. Asked Shadowheart, “Is Shar the only goddess with an Olympic qualifier to join her religion?”

And now a series of comments on the Dead 3's chosen: “so the bad guys are evil undead Santa, Lady Gaga and the ugliest man I’ve ever seen?”)” “Is Gale… horny for that crown??” “Maybe Myrkul would be more threatening if he wasn’t standing in an giant toilet and not moving”

On discovering the Emperor) “wait my fairy god mother is a SQUID??? oh :( ”

She did however become half illithid but hated that she ended up with varicose veins on her boobs.

Gale and Astarion then graduated to “those weak pudding men” because they kept getting stuck halfway across the map by missing jumps. Act 3

Said “Brexit means Brexit” every time she met someone who was complaining about the refugees.

Went to see Raphael at Sharess's Caress. Didn’t sign his contract “ I trust neither Lord Farquad nor squid man but I’m not selling my soul to someone who has such bad vibes.”

At Gortash's coronation. "I thought he was popular? Like seven people turned up to watch it. Is it because he's really ugly and smells like Lynx (Axe) body spray?"

She wanted to eat Orin's outfit because it looks like delicious bacon.

Walking around the city: "so where do I go??" "Anywhere you like." "I hate this."

She would not stop stealing things. I think she murdered the entire battalion of flaming fist in the lower city because "a lady's gotta eat." She also killed everyone in sorcerer’s sundries including Rolan.

Had the prototypical stress aneurysm while doing the iron throne but somehow managed to get ALL the hostages out.

Lae’zel was kidnapped by Orin for 9 in game days . When I asked about this she said “FINDING CLOWN MEAT IS MORE IMPORTANT.”

“Why does every door here lead to the sewer????? And why are there so many live mines in the sewer??”

(in the basement of the elfsong) “soo because the Emperor has a shitty basement I’m supposed to be best friend with him now? This soup recipe does not make me trust you squid man”

Halsin “nature used all its powers when crafting you” Wife “well it also crafted bacon lady (Orin) so swings and roundabouts”

Astarion stayed a spawn and she convinced Gale not to use the crown. “No one is becoming ultimate bitch on my watch”

Despite her distrust of the Emperor she still allied with him in the final fight. Because, and I quote, "Lady Coolio's goal is to stop the Absolute. The Emperor has the same goal. I don't know when I became everyone's therapist and in charge of them making better choices but I'm putting my foot down at replacing dehydrated onion queen with baldy prince king over here. The Gith's religion is not my problem."

In her canon Lady Coolio and the Emperor high fived when they won.

85 hours later and Lady Coolio is the hero of Baldur's Gate. Please enjoy this picture of our heroine.

[hwaslayer]

wildfire (cs) | 12.5

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 3k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing, infidelity, suggestive/implied smut, indications of a toxic relationship, very broken relationship at this point actually, lots of back and forth, also pls remember i didn't put any hard dates to things that have happened so i couldn't tell u exactly what day, time and season iseul decided to be like this 🫤, crying, yelling, a sprinkle of violence (like a push, slamming hand against the wall, throwing objects), hints of manipulation and gaslighting

—on rotation: oceans & engines - niki | blame - bryson tiller

⇢ POSTDOC | EARLY YR 3

Love does not prevail.

Love does not conquer all.

San used to think it did, but as he's been sitting in his old room at his parents' home, he's realizing that wasn't the case for him. He tries, and he tries. He tries to make himself believe that it still can conquer all, and that it still can prevail. He tries to tell himself that it wasn't him, that he did no wrong. That this was just a fucking dream he's waiting to wake up from.

He tries to believe what he has is still love.

He tries to believe he is still worthy of receiving love and being loved; of not sitting in this heartache for long.

—FLASHBACK

San is exhausted, but he's excited to be coming home a whole day earlier than planned to surprise Iseul. He caught the next flight out as soon as his commitments during the conference had wrapped up, ready to come to his wife and be in her arms. He couldn't wait to hold her, kiss her, and shower her with love especially because they had been arguing lately. It's like that was the only form of communication they knew.

All he wanted was to stop— to make up and to give her everything, to have her back and to just be.. happy.

Why were they even fighting so much?

Iseul felt distant and he wasn't sure how to bring her back. But, he'd try his damn hardest. She was his wife and he loved her so. He would never give up no matter how hard it got.

It never used to be this way.

San picks up Iseul's favorite perfume from the Duty Free and stops by a quick flower stand to grab a small bouquet of roses. He calls an Uber that comes in less than 5 minutes— San gently setting his carry-on bag in the trunk before plopping into the backseat with the roses and perfume sitting on his lap. He texts Iseul as if he hasn't returned, trying to keep the surprise under wraps as much as possible. He's trying to see what she's up to and if she ate for dinner, but she hasn't responded.

Which, again, wasn't entirely uncommon behavior from Iseul.

But, since they had been fighting and arguing so much recently, the pauses and breaks in between texts seemed to be getting longer and longer— a tiny detail he refused to look at because it would unravel the rest of the problems he had been brushing under the rug;

Problems he stuck at the back end of a book.

He texted her close to three hours ago. 

San didn't really know why Iseul was so angry with him sometimes. She argued and she would say things that made him feel like something deep within her resented him more than loved him. He's aware he's not the best with his time management, he's aware that, sometimes, he makes her feel like she comes after everything else.

He's aware.

He'll acknowledge his mistakes and short-comings, but he'll always make up for it. He isn't perfect, but he'll always try. Always.

When the cab pulls up to the house, nothing feels unusual. He feels like he sees Yunho's car parked on the side street a house down, but that wouldn't be too unusual since he's always around. But, it does feel a little weird that he would be here when San wasn't home. The two had been really close as of lately, and it felt like Yunho had gotten closer to Iseul than he had been with San.

Yet, another tiny detail he refused to look into because of all the possibilities.

They could never.

San felt so naive, but they could never.

He gets inside the house and the living room TV is still on. Kinda loud, actually. There's two wine glasses sitting on the counter, both empty with remnants of red wine pooling at the bottom. San sets his work bag down before carrying his carry-on duffle upstairs with him, along with the flowers and perfume.

Funny that they aren't down here.

He climbs up the steps, wondering if Iseul was in the room and Yunho was busy doing something else? He can't come up with anything because there isn't really anything to do up here.

They're still nowhere to be found.

He feels his heart beating out of his chest.

Because he nears their door and Iseul is making those sounds she makes when San makes love to her. Except, she's a little louder this time. Throws in some giggles. At first, San thinks he's dreaming; that there's no way she could be doing this to him right now. 

There's no way. She was his wife.

She would never.

They would never.

Then, the door creaks open from the harsh breeze that comes in through the cracked window of the room. San gets a glimpse of the bed and the sheets are different. Things feel different.

And that's because they are. 

Everything is different, and everything will be different from here on out.

If only San knew that, if only he caught on earlier.

Would've saved his ass from the heartbreak that was about to be catered to him on a silver platter.

The sounds are indeed leaving Iseul's lips, and as soon as San pushes the door open, he almost wished it could have been anybody else if this were literally the circumstances that were meant to find him. If this was going to happen either way, he really wished it was somebody else. Because why is he watching Yunho grip Iseul's hips the way he normally would when she's on top? 

Why is he looking at her the way he is— like she's everything to him, like she holds all the answers he's been looking for, like he.. loves her.

San doesn't even know what to say at first, he doesn't even process this. He just drops his things to the ground, along with Iseul's perfume and the flowers. The thud is enough to make them turn their attention towards the door, immediately pulling on the sheets when Iseul hops off of him.

They look at him in shock.

What was he doing here?

Ironic, San has the same question.

"You two actually can't be serious." He says close to a whisper, a pathetic chuckle leaving his lips because what in the actual hell is going on? "You can't be serious." He repeats, but this time, his tone is laced with disbelief, confusion. Anger. "You can't be serious!" His tone rises.

"W-why are you here? I-I thought you weren't coming home for another day."

"Oh, so that's how you'd be filling in your time while I'm away?" He scoffs angrily. "I should've known, I should've fucking known!" He's yelling now, and he hasn't yelled like this ever. "You couldn't even save me from all this fucking mess?!" He aggressively runs his hand down his face, hands placed on his hips as he paces around. Not even sure where the fuck to look while Yunho and Iseul are scrambling to get themselves together and out of the damn bed.

The damn bed he shares with his wife.

"San— I can—" 

"What the fuck can you explain?!" He grabs the closest thing to him, which happens to be the tiny vase full of fresh lavender that Iseul bought recently and throws it against the wall in pure rage, frustration. "Huh?! What the fuck can you possibly explain, Iseul! Do you think I'm stupid? Do you take me as a dumbass?" He pounds his hand against the wall near the doorway.

He scares himself. 

He has never been this angry.

He has never felt himself feel so different and worked up, almost borderline toxic, in a relationship. It feels so wrong, it feels so unhealthy. Unlike him.

"How long?" He mutters.

"It was just—"

"How long!" He yells again, and it startles Iseul and Yunho.

"A month or so." Maybe he shouldn't have asked. There's so much uncertainty in her tone, she can't even remember the exact time this all began.

It all blended.

It was a blur.

It could've been more. Feels like. Yunho gives her a look and it's obvious.

She's lying.

"I should've known. I should've known. I should've known." San keeps repeating to himself, tears are streaming down his cheeks even though he's more livid than anything.

"I'll just go—"

"No, you stay. I'll go." He almost growls lowly at Yunho.

"San—" Iseul calls for him. All of a sudden. 

"No, don't. Don't call for me because you weren't doing that before. This is it, Iseul. You don't get to call me, you don't get to ask me to do anything. You don't need me! Stick with him since that's what's been happening all along. Aren't I right? You two really deserve each other."

"San." Yunho sighs, slipping into his shirt as San is about to head out of the door. 

"We should really just talk about this—" 

"What the fuck is there to talk about?! What is wrong with the both of you, wasn't that enough of an explanation?" Yunho mistakenly places a hand on his shoulder to try and get him to turn back, but San pushes him with so much force that Yunho stumbles against the drawer and causes a frame to tumble and fall to the ground. "Don't touch me." He glares at Yunho, eyes glazed over as hot tears brim his lids. "Do not touch me ever again. I don't need any explanations, I don't need anything." He swallows the lump in his throat. "I'm done with the both of you." He slips the ring off of his finger and tosses it near the bed, letting it land on the floor as it slips down the sheets. "Have it, Iseul. Take it all. That's what you do best." He is barely able to get out. "I'll come back to grab things when you aren't around."

"San!" She cries for him, slipping on her robe to chase after him. Yunho grabs her by the wrist and tries to stop her, shaking his head as a way to tell her to let it go. She quickly eyes the roses and the perfume near the bed, causing her to snatch her wrist out of his grip. She heads down the stairs and continues to call for San even though he's already in his car and about to pull out of the garage.

She cries as she frustratingly runs her hands through her hair, unsure of how she could try to salvage her marriage.

How could she bring him back?

—END

He checks the time and realizes Iseul won't be around the house right now due to some lab dinner she's attending. He still sees her calendar linked to his and he's close to deleting it, but he needs to grab the rest of his things before he can do so. They haven't really talked about that night because she's good at playing her game. She's tried, and she's tried.

She keeps crying for him, calling for him.

She came back running right after the whole thing. Then, they fought. She ran back to Yunho. 

Came back. 

It makes him so confused and so, so tired to be dancing in circles. He might be dumb for falling for it every time, especially when things clearly haven't changed. Why does he have to fight for a spot with Yunho? 

He was her husband.

He shouldn't have to.

What else could she possibly want from him? 

He was done with this. He was tired, and he was done.

His parents aren't home either [thank god, he can't take another second of them nagging and prying], so he swipes his keys off the counter and leaves with haste. He's trying to avoid a run-in with Iseul because all he wants to do is grab his shit and leave in peace.

He doesn't even know what's gonna happen to the house, he's not even sure if he would want it should she give it up in the end. Every corner is gonna be painted with her face, even Yunho's, when it was meant to be a happy home for two people.

Them.

San sighs heavily as he makes the trek down to the house, which is kinda far but he doesn't mind the drive. It's peaceful, it's relaxing; it calms his nerves. He blasts his music through the speakers, zipping through the highway and the streets before pulling up to the garage. The house is dark and Iseul's car is nowhere to be found. He quickly slips out of the car and unlocks the door, stepping out of his shoes before climbing up the steps to the room. There are some unwashed dishes in the sink and the flowers sitting in the vase have wilted away.

The candle hasn't been replaced with a new one.

The throw blanket on the couch is falling off the edge.

When he gets upstairs, some of Iseul's drawers aren't completely shut. The closet door isn't closed. Her laundry is still unfolded and at the end of the bed they once shared. Sheets are different again, but this time, they're a dull pale baby blue. The extra sheets her mom gifted them when they had first moved in.

Since that night, Iseul hasn't placed flowers in the room. Their pictures are gone.

The shutters remain close. 

All signs of a broken and cold home.

He tries not to pay attention to the feeling settling in his stomach right now— after all, he's on a mission to grab some things and go. He throws a few things into his duffle bag, making sure to grab some extra socks and boxer briefs to last him until his next trip to the house. He's got enough clothes that he could mix and match with so he thinks he's good.

He thinks he's set, and he thinks he managed to slip by unnoticed again.

Except, he hears the front door shut when he heads down the steps. 

"San?" She asks for him softly. He slowly heads down the rest of the stairs and turns the corner to see her standing there. She doesn't look too happy, nor does she look like she's been able to sleep well recently. But, he doesn't think it's fair to put the blame on him for all of that. She did this to them. "Hey."

"I'm done grabbing clothes, I'll be out of your way—" She stops in front of him and he tries to take another step to the side, which was also unsuccessful.

"Wait, why don't you just stay? Aren't you tired of doing this?" He furrows his brows and subtly shakes his head.

"Aren't you, Iseul? I don't know what you want from me."

"San, I'm sorry." Iseul starts to cry to him, making him tear up in return. But, he can't. He's done. He doesn't wanna do this anymore. He deserves better. He's crying because he's exhausted, not because he wants her back or because he misses what he had with her. It's too much of painful memory to even reminisce about. He is just tired. "Please. I'm sorry, I just want you. I don't wanna do this anymore, I— we can fix this, can't we? We can go to counseling and fix this."

"Iseul, no." He pries her off of him, tears streaming down his cheeks. "No, we can't. There isn't anything to fix."

"Don't say that." She almost whines. "I'm sorry, San. Please just— please don't do this. I'm not gonna give this up."

"What makes you think you haven't already? No." He repeats. "You chose that night and you made your decision. You decided to start that whole thing with Yunho, and you decided to let him stay. You let me go, and I don't deserve all of this bullshit, Iseul." He places his hand out to keep his distance when she tries to grab for him once more. "Why can't you stop? Don't you see how fucked up this is?" He cries. "I don't wanna do this anymore. I'm so fucking tired. So please, no. I don't want this, please stop putting me through this." He begs. The tears continue to stain his cheeks even as he licks his lips and swallows dryly. He watches as Iseul sobs into her hands and falls to her knees on the floor, but he has nothing else to say.

Nothing left of him to give.

"San."

"I'm gonna go." He whispers, gaining the courage to step aside her and slip into his shoes, walking out as the pain burns him deep in his chest hearing Iseul continuously sob into her hands. When he plops into the driver's seat, he tosses his duffle bag off to the side and lets out a shaky sigh. He continues to cry to himself, digging his own head into his hands before he gathers himself and turns on the car. He doesn't think he should drive right now, but he just wants to go home and be in his own peace. So, he speeds off; though, the world feels like it's caving in on him.

For a second, San thought he deserved all of this. He felt so fucking sorry for himself because he thought he deserved every bit of the hurt, the betrayal, that came his way. Every time he thinks about it, it slices his wounds open all over again, and he feels sick to his stomach.

The pain burns.

His chest feels tight.

He almost feels like he can't breathe.

Because in the end, he learned the hard way.

Love does not prevail.

Love does not conquer all.

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @angelqueendom @barbielibra @brown88 @choisansplushie @yunhoswrldddd @hyukssunflower @vickykazuya @lucid-galaxys-world @jaytheatiny @pommelex @thechaotictheoryy @vixensss @santineez @nopension @domfikeluva @in-somnias-world @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @mountiiny @naoristerling @onmymymyway @thecutiepieme @wyrated

[blantheia]

What We Know About Margot: a deep dive into the internet

She is the chem-baroness who controls the brothels of Zaun. Her company is called The Vyx, and its symbol can be seen in the episode where Caitlyn and Vi visit Babette’s brothel—first on Jericho’s napkin and later on the brothel’s door.

She was captured by Caitlyn and the other enforcers during the Hellfire sequence, where her followers were gassed and her business dismantled. It can be assumed that she ended up in prison since Caitlyn caught both her and Chross in a net, and their deaths are never shown on screen.

The piercings and golden valves on her body keep her skin tight, making her look younger than she actually is. As a result, no one knows her real age.

Originally, in the concept art, it was also shown that she used some kind of chemical to maintain her youthful appearance. She looks very old in these early concepts.

Her main headquarters has her face sculpted on the door (a bit megalomaniacal, Margot?), and it’s called RaptureWalk. Some of her thugs seem to have an "M" tattooed on their chests.

In the Secret Cinema event Enter the Undercity, her name and company were revealed for the first time, as she had only appeared in the background during the first season (the chem-barons meeting, 1x07). In this event, Margot’s actress referred to herself as "Mommy Margot" and expressed her opposition to Silco’s reign.

The actress shared that the writers emphasized to her how Margot is skilled at understanding what captivates others, highlighting that pleasure isn’t solely about sex—it can also stem from food, scents, pain, and personal kinks.

VYX's slogan was "A Feast for Every Sense," and an advertisement for the company stated: "The Vyx provides discreet services to the Undercity. We offer connection and companionship for any and all lonely souls. Our dedicated employees can cater to any impulse. No matter your persuasion or inclination, The Vyx has you covered—or rather... uncovered."

In the minigame 'Jinx Fixes Everything', Silco had a portrait of Margot alongside the other chem-barons in The Last Drop. It is suggested that Silco had dirt on all his allies, including her.

Her voice actress is Kimberly Brooks, who also played Sky in the series.

Since the logotypes of the chem-barons all represent something related to their industries, I would say that Margot's simbolizes a female reproductive organ. But that's just my theory-

In the series, she is seen playing with a knife, and has sharp nails in the concept art, giving her a rather dangerous but feminine appearance. Unfortunately, we never see a fight against Margot, unlike with Renni and Smeech.

And I think that's all for now! My conclusion is that she had an incredible potential and a third season was needed to do justice to the chem-barons as villains; they were criminally underutilized.

[forwhomthewordsflow]

Lean On Me

modern music teacher!eddie munson x art teacher fem!reader

18+ ONLY MDNI!!!

warnings: minor emergency room situation, injury, fluffy x100, allusions to smut, a lil more coach!steve harrington

author's note: definitely did not write this one clocked in at my desk…i just can’t stay away from these guys.  this is not proofread so please be gentle if there are any mistakes :) also, i’m no medical professional so i’m not exactly sure if this is how one would treat a bruised foot…just go with it. ALSO!!! I had to give our art teacher a last name, and the polls chose 'Ms. Heart.' cute right?

please let me know what your thoughts are on this series!

word count: 3.9k

Ms. Heart🎨: The kids are saying they saw Coach Harrington carrying you out to the parking lot…tell me they’re kidding

Mr. Munson🎸: “Carrying” is an exaggeration…

You see the “Incoming FaceTime Call” notification pop up on the screen of your phone and hurry to shut your classroom door.  Even though it’s nearing the end of the day, and this is technically your planning period, sometimes kids still like to come in and hang out in your classroom.  You had a feeling that Eddie wouldn’t want any students around to hear this call though.

Your anxiety is momentarily forgotten when you see his handsome face on your screen after answering the FaceTime call.  Even after almost three weeks of knowing him, it still surprises you how gorgeous the man is.  You’re focused on the curve of his sexy grin, but you can't help but notice the subtle winces peaking through it.   You can tell he’s in the passenger seat of a truck, Steve’s truck you’re guessing, and your theory is confirmed when the man in question grabs the phone from Eddie’s hands and puts it up to his face.

“Well hello there Ms. Art Teacher!  You’ll never guess what your guy got himself into now–wait a second,” he turns to look at Eddie with an appalled expression ,”Why is your lady’s name in your phone ‘Ms. Heart’?” 

Eddie snatches his phone back from Steve’s hands and can barely hear the sound of you laughing from the other end.  You and him both know that you put your names in each other's phones as your ‘teacher names,’ just in case someone were to see a notification and get suspicious.  You still have yet to go public with your new relationship, and Eddie is counting down the days until he can let everyone know you’re his girl.

“Will you stop calling her ‘my lady’? You sound like a douche.”

Steve lets out a triumphant laugh. “Yeah, right.  This douche is getting laid on the regular pal.  I’ll hear your opinions on my vocabulary when you can say the same.”

Eddie looks back at your face on his screen, noticing how you’re blushing at Steve’s words.  He throws you a wink, just to see your reaction, and he isn’t disappointed.  You turn even redder and throw your free hand over your face to cover your smile.  

Steve’s words don’t bother you exactly, but you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been devoting a lot of time to thinking about whether or not Eddie cares that the two of you haven’t slept together yet.  It’s not that you don’t want to, of course you want to.  You’ve been wanting to climb that man like a tree since the moment he first spoke to you at orientation.  There just hasn’t been time to even approach that topic with the school year starting and the craziness of it all.  

You and Eddie are smiling bashfully at each other through the screen when he grunts in pain.  The phone shakes at the same time, and you remember that Steve is driving Eddie somewhere.

“Fuck, man.  Can you try not to drive into every pothole you see?”

Steve scoffs, “Yeah sure.  Lemme just swerve around them and into all the other cars on the road.  Then we’d both be injured.”

Both? Both? Meaning one of them already is?

“Eddie?” you ask.  He can tell by the sound of the question that you're on the verge of panic, so he smiles at you through the screen.

“Yes, sweet girl?”  You can hear Steve’s fake gag in the background at Eddie’s use of the pet name for you, but it doesn’t stop the lovesick smile from trying to make its way onto your lips.

Eddie finds it particularly entertaining to try out all the different pet names on you to see which ones will make you blush the hardest.  He says he keeps an Excel spreadsheet so he can track the data…but you’re pretty sure he’s lying.  Okay, maybe 75% sure.

You point a finger at him sternly. “Quit trying to distract me.  Tell me what’s going on please.”  Eddie would have to be a fool to resist your sweet request, so he gives in. 

“There may have been a little incident while I was putting away equipment after 6th period…”

Steve guffaws, “Yeah, I’ll say.  Your man dropped a 40 pound speaker on his foot!”  Eddie’s hand slaps to his forehead with a groan, he had planned on breaking the news a little gentler to you, and perhaps in a way that didn’t make him look like a total idiot.

Your mouth drops in horror, “What?”

Eddie instantly jumps into trying to calm you down, “Honey, it’s really not that bad–”

“–I heard a crunch!”

“Steve!  Please.”

You take a deep, grounding breath.  “Eddie, just talk please.”

Eddie reaches over to smack Steve before speaking.  “Steve was in my classroom because we were planning on moving a couple speakers out to the fields for the game tonight.  The one I was carrying slipped and landed a little bit on my foot, that’s all.”  He tries his best to speak calmly to keep you from panicking, but it’s hard to ignore the throbbing pain in his right foot.  

“Eddie!  Are you okay?  How bad does it hurt?”  You wish you were with him instead of pacing around in your empty classroom. 

“I can barely feel it sweetheart, I’d rate it a three out of ten.”

Steve scoffs loudly, “Okay buddy, that’s not what it sounded like when I was carrying your ass out of school.”

Eddie turns to fix Steve with a glare, “I still had one foot on the ground, dude.  You were not carrying me.”  He turns back to look at your face through the screen, “He wasn’t carrying me.”  

You hear Steve laughing off screen and Eddie rolls his eyes.  You can’t help but to laugh a little too at the absurdity of it all.  “Where are you heading to?”

“We’re going to the ER.  Personally, I think that’s a little dramatic, but mama bear over here…”

Steve passionately chimes in, “It’s important to treat every injury with the same level of seriousness, even the minor ones!” 

“I actually agree with him on this one, Ed.” you say with a soft smile.  Eddie swoons internally.

He’s able to overlook your choice of Steve’s side due to your use of the nickname.  You’ve been a bit hesitant about using pet names with him the way he does with you, but you’ve assured him time and time again that it’s only because you’ve never dated a guy who actually liked any of that stuff before.  You’re working your way up to Eddie’s level of nicknames, and ‘Ed’ has been a recent development in that process.  Eddie loves it.  

“Gimme the phone man,” Steve’s hand juts into the screen expectantly, swiping the phone from Eddie’s grasp.  “Hey Ms. Artsy, do you think you’ll be able to give this guy a ride back home? Our first home game is in a couple hours, and the boys can’t play without their coach.”

You had almost forgotten about the football game tonight.  Your students had been amped up all day long about it, convincing you to help them paint signs to hold up at the game during class time.  You were planning on asking Eddie if he wanted to go, but you weren’t sure how he felt about attending a school event together.  The status of your relationship wasn’t necessarily a secret, but still not very many people knew.  

“Of course I can!  I just have to clean up a bit and I’ll be right there.” 

“Thanks, teach.” Steve hands the phone back to Eddie, who’s been sulking in the passenger seat because he missed your face. 

You smile at him, “Hang tight, I’ll see you soon okay?”

Eddie smiles, “Okaayyy–!” His voice cuts off in a pained grunt before the call ends, leading you to assume that Steve had once again hit a pothole.  

-

You’re a ball of nerves as you pull in to park outside of the emergency room.  Thankfully, you’re the type of person who keeps their car relatively clean, but that didn’t stop you from doing a once over just to make extra sure there wasn’t any mess.  Why were you so anxious to drive with Eddie?  Maybe the stress from the past hour just has you wound extra tight.

Nervous as you may be, you can’t help but to walk with a bounce in your step as you approach the entrance.  Seeing Eddie is always the highlight of your day, and you couldn’t wipe the growing grin off your face if you tried.  You just hope he isn’t in too much pain, your heart lurches at the thought of him being hurt in any way.

Thanks to impeccable timing, you spot Eddie and Steve walking down the hallway you’ve just entered into.  You notice the papers in Steve’s hands, and the crutches that Eddie is already seemingly irritated by.  Your eyes meet as he looks up, and the crease between his furrowed eyebrows is gone in an instant as a smile lights up his face.  Steve can’t help but smile along as he watches Eddie hobble a little faster on his crutches towards you. 

God, he missed you today.  He loves the color of the top you’re wearing, the way your jeans hug your thighs, the curve of your smile, and he might just love you too, although he probably shouldn’t tell you that part just yet.  

Steve checks his watch for the hundredth time since he and Eddie had arrived at the ER, running a hand through his hair anxiously.  He hands you the papers the doctor gave them with care instructions and pain medication prescriptions before you can even say hello.

“Okay, team.  Kick-off is in thirty minutes, and I gotta jet.”  He looks to you, already in ‘coach’ mode.  “Here are the papers from the doctor, the do’s and don'ts for a bruised foot bone, care instructions, ya-da ya-da.  His prescription can be picked up after 6, there’s a pharmacy around the corner that’s open til 10.”  

You take the papers from him and nod your head, trying to commit all the information to memory.

“Wish me luck guys!”  Steve jogs away, fist pumping the air. “Go Tigers!”

You turn to face Eddie, the both of you wearing matching smiles and shaking your heads at Steve’s theatrics.  You move a bit closer to Eddie, yearning for a hug but not sure if it’s a good idea.

As if he can read your mind, Eddie grins, “Can a hurt guy get a hug? I’m not able to hug you back at this moment but I’ll make it up to you later.”

You step into his space and wrap your arms around his waist, laying your head on his chest and breathing him in.  How does he still smell so good after teaching all day long?  

He rests his cheek on the top of your head, wondering the same thing about you.  How could someone’s hair possibly be this soft and smell this amazing?  This.  This is what he’s been waiting for all day long.  God, you feel so good pressed against him like this.  If he wasn’t such a gentleman, he’d let the stirring of his cock in his jeans distract him from the pain in his foot, but unfortunately the two of you are still standing in the middle of the ER.  

“Shall we?” 

“Yup!” You reluctantly pull away from his warmth and move to his side to walk with him. You notice him holding his black Dr. Marten’s boot by its laces in one of his hands, then you look down to see his right foot, heavily wrapped in tan bandages.  

“Be honest, does it hurt?” you ask as you take his boot from him so that he can have a better grasp on his crutch.

Eddie sighs, hanging his head.  “I mean, it’s definitely throbbing still.”

“Aw, you poor thing.” You reach up to brush a stray curl out of Eddie’s face, and he can’t help but to lean into your touch like a dog when you use that tone of voice.

You hope he’ll let you take him back to your house instead of his own.  The idea of taking care of him and doting on him has you smiling already.  

“Wanna go back to my house?” Eddie feels his ears perk up at the thought of getting to go to your house again. “I can take you back to yours to get some clothes and stuff, but I don’t like the idea of leaving you there alone when you can’t drive yourself.”

Eddie knows he wouldn’t necessarily be alone, but having Steve Harrington as a roommate often feels like living alone.  Not in a bad way of course, it’s just that Steve is rarely ever at home unless he’s with a woman for the night or hungover in the morning.  

“You sure you want me at your place all weekend long?” Eddie’s giving you an out.  He’s fully aware that the two of you haven’t spent the night together before, and the last thing he wants you to think is that he expects anything from you. 

“Why wouldn’t I? We’ll be super lazy together.  We can watch movies, eat junk food, take naps…it’ll be awesome.”  You look up at him with a giddy smile and Eddie knows he would agree to anything you said. 

“Sounds perfect,” he murmurs against your forehead before pressing two kisses there.

“I parked just ahead in the front row, I didn’t want you to have to go very far but I can still pull the car up here if you feel like you don’t want to go that far.  You must be exhausted.”

He feels his chest warm, you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever seen.  “I’ll be fine, baby.  I can make it.”  He has to work hard to focus on operating his crutches and not your sweet smile, it would be very un-cool of him to fall flat on his face in this parking lot right now.

He manages to make it all the way to your car, putting his crutches in your backseat and hopping over to the passenger side.  You make sure to open the door for him, not moving until you’re sure he’s safe in the seat and buckled up.  You hope he doesn’t think your hovering is annoying.

Eddie thinks your hovering is adorably sweet.  

As soon as you get in and start the car, Eddie asks to see your phone.

“Sure,” you fish it from your purse and hand it to him, “Passcode is 0102.  You gonna DJ?”

“Nope, your car, your tunes honey.  I’m just putting in my address so you know where you’re going.”

“I remember where you live, Ed,” you giggle.  “I’ve been to your place before, remember?”

Of course he remembers, you let him cook you dinner twice and both times you fell asleep in each other’s arms halfway through ‘Back To The Future.’  Maybe this weekend you’ll finally be able to finish it.

“Well, alrighty then.  I’m sorry I ever doubted you, my lady.” You laugh at his dramatics and reverse out of the parking space.

“You’d be wise to never do it again, good sir,” you reply in a medieval accent similar to the one Eddie spoke in.  He’s thankful that you’re distracted by navigating yourself out of the parking lot and not able to see the way his face flushes and his jeans tighten around his groin at your reciprocated dramatics.  You’re so hot when you talk nerdy to him.  You’re so hot all the time.

Eddie sits back and takes in the image of you driving, one he’s never seen before.  He chuckles a bit at how proper you’re sitting, back straight and hands at ten and two on the wheel.  

“Ease up, baby.  You’re not being graded right now,” he laughs.

You laugh along, a little embarrassed. “I know, I drive like a dork.”  You look over at him, exasperated.  “I just don’t feel prepared if I’m slouching or driving one handed!  You never know what could happen.”

“Careful, you’re starting to sound like Steve “Mama Bear” Harrington,” he teases.

You scoff and roll your eyes, still smiling.

“Can you put on some music please?  Driving without it weirds me out.”

“Sure,” Eddie chuckles, opening up the ‘Spotify’ app on your phone. “Uh-oh, look who’s in the hot seat now.  Time to take a peek at your ‘On Repeat.’”

You laugh but hold your head up proudly.  “Peek away Mr. Munson.  I’ve got nothing to hide, I am who I am.”

“Yeah we’ll see about that,” Eddie mumbles as he locates the playlist and hits shuffle.  He can’t believe his ears when the opening chords to ‘One Of These Nights” by Eagles play from your speakers.  His head snaps up towards you, and you can’t help but to burst out laughing at the bewildered look on his face.

“You know, I actually feel like a total asshole right now.  This is an amazing song.” He looks at you like he’s proud of you, and your chest feels warmer.

By the time the song is nearing its end, Eddie’s trying to catch his breath from attempting to hit the highest notes and you’re breaking your “ten and two” rule by clutching your stomach because you’ve been laughing so hard that it hurts. 

Eddie vaguely recognizes the next song as a showtune, but doesn’t comment on it because he’s too caught up in you.  

You, still laughing out loud with your widest smile and the setting sun outlining your silhouette in a golden-orange glow.  He can’t believe he’s in your car, that you’re driving him around, the goddess that you are.  You’re ethereal.  Other-worldly.  

You’re starting to look concerned.  

After coming down from your laughing fit, you turn to find Eddie staring at you with a dazed and confused look in his eye.  Being that he’s fresh out of the Emergency Room, you’re instantly a bit concerned for his well being.  

“Eddie?  Are you feeling okay?”

He blinks a few times before responding, “S-sorry, it’s just…you are so goddamn beautiful.”

Will you ever get used to this floaty warm feeling in your chest?  Luckily for you, he says this while you pull your car into his driveway.  You put the car into park, and lean your head back onto the headrest, no doubt sporting a smile that’s as lovesick as you feel.  

You look at him and whisper, “Thank you.”  Shy fingers reach out to take his hand that rests on your center console, and he’s quick to hold on tight.  Without breaking eye contact with you, Eddie brings your hand up to his mouth and presses two warm kisses to your knuckles.  He then uses that hand to pull you towards him, stopping when your faces are only inches apart.  

“Thank you for driving me,” he whispers, unable to look away from your soft lips.  

“You’re welcome,” you sigh, wishing he would just kiss you already. 

Eddie’s loving the effect he has on you.  He notices your chest rising and falling faster, the breathy tone of your voice, the darkness taking over your eyes.  

He finally leans in and presses his lips to yours gently.  This kiss is much softer than your first one, there’s no urgency or tenacity.  This kiss lets you know that there will be many more to come.  You can’t remember a time where you’d been handled any gentler than this.  Eddie’s holding your face like you’re a rare jewel, like you’re priceless and valuable, and he kisses you like he’s trying to worship you.  

It feels like your lips are dancing together, this feels practiced and choreographed and natural.  

You’re so going to fall in love with this man. 

He pulls away after what could’ve been five hours or five seconds, either way it’s far too soon.  Your mouth chases his lips, making him chuckle softly as he drops kisses onto your nose, cheeks, forehead and chin.

You smile, thoroughly enjoying being doted on like this.  

Eddie backs away once and for all, smoothing your hair out of your face with both hands, his smile matching yours.  

“So pretty.”

You blush harder, if it’s even possible, and let out a happy sigh.  

And with both hands on either side of your face, Eddie obviously uses this opportunity to smush your cheeks together so that your lips pucker. 

“Even prettier,” He leans forward and plants one on you, “Let’s get inside, I can hear my bed calling our names.”

He quickly corrects himself when he sees your eyes widen, “F-for a nap!  I’m tired, you’re probably tired.  Nap time.”

Eddie is sure he’s totally mortified you until he spots you trying to hide your bashful smile and pink cheeks as you undo your seatbelt and get out of the car.  Maybe you’d be into more than nap time?  Why the fuck did he call it ‘nap time’?  

You’re an idiot, Eddie.  That’s why.  She’s not going to fuck you while you have a stupid bruised and use words like ‘nap time.’

He’s still shaking his head at himself when you open the passenger door, looking at him expectantly.  Oh that’s right, you’re going to help him hobble to his own front door, because he’s an idiot who dropped a goddamn amp on his fucking foot.

Eddie hits his head backwards on the headrest with a sigh, “I feel so un-cool right now.”

The sound of your laugh eases his pain a little.

“You’ll live.  C’mon, big boy,”  You chuckle, smirking and looking down on him from where you stand outside your car.  

You open the door to the backseat to grab his crutches and your purse, and Eddie starts to question himself as he feels his dick twitch at your use of the new nickname.  Perhaps it’s something the two of you can explore down the line…he needs to stop thinking about sex with you or else he’ll pop a very obvious boner and scare you off.  

A quick recalling of the mental image that’s seared into his mind of Mrs. Bedson, the 57 year old choir teacher, bumping and grinding with the tennis coach at last year’s prom does the trick.  Eugh.  Eddie shivers at the memory.  

You pop back up with his crutches under your arm, reaching your other one down to help him up.  He doesn’t need the help, but he takes your hand anyway because it feels so right to hold it. 

You unlock his front door with his keys, and then the two of you head inside.  After placing your purse on one of the hooks in the entryway while simultaneously toeing your shoes off, you turn to him with a teasing smile.

“Nap time?”

He laughs, “Yeah, yeah.  Nap time.”

TAGLIST:

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[hufflepuffsthunderdome]

Why Him?

Teen!Schlatt x childhood friend!reader previous part here Summary: The third part of this series. Teen!Schlatt so badly wants to take you to formal, but can't find the nerve to do so. He misses his chance and struggles to deal with thinking about you with someone else. Warnings: Angst, panic attacks, violence, kinda gross talk about reader in a suggestive way A/N: we're jumping back in time for this one! It'll make more sense the timeline in the next part. I was gonna post one big hella long one but people were asking for the next part so I broke it up! Gotta feed ya'll. I’m also dumb and originally had Alex’s name during the fight instead of Pete so sorry for any confusion! Thank you anon!

"Do you think you'll ask them?" Alex asks Schlatt as the pair pack up their baseball gear after practice. It has been a topic that Schlatt had been dreading, but the season had arrived and the talks of the formal were inevitable. Already, at practice some of the team had been bragging; Josh and Tom had already asked their long term partners, while Joey was annoyed his girlfriend was pissed at him for not asking them. The rest of the guys had been brainstorming ideas between drills, of who to ask and how to ask them. Until now, Schlatt had managed to dodge the question.

"Ask who, what?" He asks, feeling his cheeks begin to flush already as he undoes his laces, avoiding Alex's eye as he hears him chuckle beside him.

"Dude come on," Alex laughs, "Y/N. Are you gonna ask them to the dance?"

His breathe catches in his throat as he pauses his movement, glancing over at Alex briefly before looking down again, "why would I do that?"

"Stop being a dick," Alex laughs as he stands up and slings his bag over his shoulder, leaning against the dugout cage, "everyone knows you want to."

"Me?" Schlatt forces a laugh as he kicks his cleats off and shoves them into his bag, "ask them?"

Alex just stares at him when Schlatt rises, tossing his bag over his shoulder and shoving hands in his hoodie pocket as he shrinks into himself under Alex's knowing gaze. He's giving Schlatt the most incredulous look, like he's suddenly sprouted another head. "Isn't it a bit pathetic?" Schlatt sighs when Alex's stare remains locked on him, "to ask your best friend to the formal?"

"Not when you're in love with them," Alex says, acting like it's the most casual thing in the world even as Schlatt feels the air leave his lungs. "Cause dude you gotta know how many people are lining up to ask them."

"Actually?" Schlatt asks, pausing in his tracks and chewing the inside of his cheek as he feels his stomach churn at the idea, "who?"

"Me for starters," Alex says as he makes his way to the drivers side of his car, laughing and unlocking the door when Schlatt glares at him, "you're getting real worked up for someone who doesn't wanna take them."

"I fucking hate you," Schlatt groans as he tosses his shit in Alex's back seat, "just fucking tell me who."

"Amy, John, that guy from maths with the mullet, Beth S and P, Matheo, Pete -"

"Pete?!" Schlatt asks, his brain finally firing back up as it recovers from the list of names Alex threw at him. He hates the feeling that settles in his stomach at the mere thought of other people wanting you, he hates the things it makes him admit to himself. "Pete wants to ask Y/N?"

Alex nods and begins to talk as he starts the car, but the noise is drowned out by the ringing in Schlatt's ears. He has a complicated friendship with Pete, the pair barely coexisting more often than not, only associating because of baseball. It's not personal, the pair just don't get on, managing to get under each others skin at every occasion possible, even when they don't mean to.

He's not an idiot, he knows how hot you are. Even on days when he's forcing himself to believe he's not in love with you, he can be objective when he says you're hot. He's grossly aware of the stares you get in the hallway, the looks people give you as you walk together. It confuses him, the jealous feeling he gets when he sees people talk about you. It confuses him just as much as it does when he hears another rumor of you turning down another date offer.

He lets it fill him with a false sense of hope, that maybe, just maybe, you're holding out for him to finally make a move. It's a hope he lets settle deep in his chest when he's thinking about you late at night, only to feel it vanish when his nerves get the best of him when he sees you next.

This conversation with Alex has brought him some slight peace. Part of him is glad that people know he's into you; as much as it fills him with dread he hopes that means people may back off for a while to give him a chance to grow some balls and ask you first.

That peace is crushed when he remembers the deadline he's under. he only has 6 weeks till the dance. You can't wait forever.

Pete certainly won't wait forever.

"Dude," Schlatt says to Alex as he takes a deep shaky breath, "you gotta help me ask them man."

---

That was 3 weeks ago. He's tried countless times since then and each time he chickens out. Alex is on his ass almost every day, he cares more about the two of you getting together than Schlatt does at this point.

He stares down at his friend, looking like he's gonna puke as he rests his head on his knees. Alex has been a great friend to Schlatt, and to you throughout the years, but god right now he wanted to kill both of you, "this is getting fucking sad dude."

Schlatt swipes a fist out at Alex's leg who jumps and nudges Schlatt's hand away as he picks up his bag, "hey! Don't take it out on me dude I've been rooting for you."

"I wanna die," Schlatt groans as he leans his head back and looks up at Alex, cringing when the bell goes and the sound of footsteps fill the halls.

You had English last period, on the other side of the school, which gave him a little bit of time to calm himself down as he hid in the flurry of students making their way towards the exit. You always met up after school, even when he had his free period he would hang back and wait for you. He just can't turn down that sad look on your face.

Alex hears his name being called across the hall and turns away briefly, "you'll be fine dude, today's the day I can tell."

Schlatt nods as he looks up at Alex, his friends reasurance surprisngly calming his nerves, "today's the day."

With a promise to talk after baseball practice this afternoon, Alex joins the sea of students that slowly disperse while Schlatt stays rooted to his spot. Slowly, the hallway empties until it's just him left, waiting for you.

He can hear his heart in his ears, beating loudly and agressively with how nervous he is. He reaches into his bag and digs around, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding when his hand meets fluff. He pulls the teddy bear out of his bag and smiles slightly to himself as he reasures himself that it will go well. Today's the day.

He can't help but imagine the grin that will spread across your face when he asks you, the beaming smile and the squeal of excitement that'll slip past your plush lips as you nod.

He wants to feel you jump into his arms as you agree to go with him, holding him tight as you let him wrap his arms around you, telling him how excited you are to go. He wants to walk out of school, holding your hand as you smile happily up at him as you hug the stupid bear he bought you close to your chest, telling him how happy he's made you.

He wants to see that stupid bear in your locker for the rest of the year, or maybe on your bed when he comes to hang out. It will be so different after today, the thought makes his heart race. He'll finally be able to hold you, tell you how much he loves you. You'll finally be his.

"Jay!" your excited voice calls from down the hallway as he hears your footsteps running towards him. He scrambles to quickly shove the bear in his bag as he turns to look over at you, your voice breaking him away from his fantasies. You're beaming at him as you practically skip down the hallway, stopping in front of him as you jump and squeal excitedly.

He laughs as he watches your excitement, your joy infectious as he grins up at you. Your hair is bouncing wildly around your face as you jump, messenger bag rattling around at your side, you look so happy right now. God he hopes he'll make you happier. "What's got you so excited?"

You stop jumping and let out a dreamy sigh as you sink down onto the floor next to him, your legs melting under you as you slide down the wall, leaning your head back against it, "you'll never guess what finally happened?"

Oh fuck.

"What?" he asks, his smile falling as he looks at you. He can't even pretend to be excited anymore. You don't need to answer, he knows already. It's all you've been wishing for for weeks.

"Pete asked me to formal."

He feels sick.

"Pete?" he asks, almost spits the word from his lips as he looks at you, watching your excited smile as you nod happily, oblivious to the pain he's feeling. You've just so innocently and unknowingly, with your excited news, ripped out and stepped on his heart, and looked like an angel while doing it.

He stands up suddenly, the hallway suddenly feeling suffocating as he looks around frantically. Are the walls spinning or is it all in his head? "Pete?" he repeats as he stares down at you, eyes unfocused as he watches the smile fall from your lips.

You look up at him, confused at his lack of excitement and his abrupt movement, "yeah Pete?" you repeat, "you play baseball-"

"I know who he is," he spits as he cuts you off, clenching and unclenching his hands at his side as he sees your confused look turn to one of surprise, "why are you going with Pete?"

You stand up as you look up at Schlatt, taking in his tense body and furrowed brows, "well who else was I meant to go with?"

"Me."

You both fall silent as your face morphs to one of surprise, while his turns to one of shock. You just stare at each other, unsure what to say as you take in his words. He looks at you, mouth parted as he begs his brain to say something, anything to fix his stupidity.

But he doesn't he just stares there dumbly, as he feels his chest tighten. He feels like he can't breathe as he turns towards the exit, his feet feeling numb under him as they begin to move on total auto pilot as he focuses all of his energy on keeping it together.

He feels bile rise in his throat, tears rim his eyes as he walks away from you. He wants to scream. At you, at Pete, at Alex, at himself. At anyone nearby. He doesn't care who, he just needs to get it out.

He hears you rush after him, the noise of your confused, sad voice cutting through the static in his brain, "Schlatt? Where are you going?"

That's all that does it, as the dam breaks and he lets out shaky, panting breaths as he feels hot tears fall down his face. God he's so fucking stupid.

"I'm late for practice," he calls back, swallowing hard as he hopes you don't notice emotion thick on his tongue as he pushes through the school exit and out towards the baseball field. That stupid teddy bear feels like lead in his bag.

---

"Walk," his coach calls out again, for the 6th time today as Schlatt pitches another dud at their practice. He can feel the stares of his team on him as he digs his cleats into the ground.

"Can we take a water break?" one of his teammates asks their coach, and Schlatt's mitt is hitting the ground before he even hears a confirmation. He kicks the fence as he makes his way to the dugout, burying his head in his hands the second he sits down. He feels the suffocating presence of his teammates as they approach, a few of them knowing better than to get involved.

"What's up with you dude?" Alex says as he sits next to him, as he looks at his friend with a mix of confusion and concern, "I thought you'd be excited. did things not go well-"

"I'm just out of it today," Schlatt interrupts before Alex can mention your name, letting out a shaky breath as he tilts his head back and closes his eyes, hating the way his teammates gazes burn into him, "today was not the day".

"Bit slow today are we Schlatt?" a sarcastic voice laughs as it gets closer to the dugout. Schlatt opens his eyes to see pete walking up to him, with a shit eating grin on his face.

"Fuck off."

Pete lets out a mocking laugh, "now now, we don't want Y/N finding out about any bad behavior do we?" he says as though he's scolding a child, smug and sarcastic as Schlatt just glares at him

Alex's eyes widen in realisation as he stands up to put some space between the two boys, "oh shit."

All Schlatt can do is sit there, skin vibrating with anger as he rings his hands in his lap. How did this smug prick fool you into saying yes? You're sweet and friendly and giving. Everything that Pete's not. Everything that he's not.

You're too good for either of them.

"Did you honestly expect them to just wait for you?" he laughs as he pushes Alex to the side, getting up in Schlatt's face, riding high from this win he can hold over the taller boys head, "a fine piece of ass like that?"

"Alright stop that now -" Alex says, trying to keep the peace and pull Pete away from the bench. As much as he didn't want to make these issues worse he wasn't about to hide that he hated Pete. He certainly wasn't gonna let him talk to or about either of his friends that way.

"Like come on, as if they would've said yes anyway."

"They would've," Schlatt says, getting up and taking a step towards Pete, towering over the boy who still stands his ground, "you just got their first."

"You're delusional man," Pete laughs as he roughly shoves Schlatt, "what you think some flowers was gonna convince them that you're anything more than a lost puppy who follows them around?"

Schlatt's face heats up as his intimidating stand over Pete faulters slightly. Pete just grins at Schlatt, turning and walking out of the dugout, "don't worry, I'll take care of her," he says suggestively, turning to smirk back at Schlatt, "I'll send you some pictures if you like?"

That's all it takes for Schlatt to see red.

In an instant he's on Pete, shoving the boy to the ground as he pounces on him, "say that again," Schlatt snarled, his voice a low growl, his fists closing tightly around the collar of Pete’s shirt as he shoves him into the ground, "say that about them one more time."

Pete coughed, trying to push Schlatt off as he feels the air leave his lungs as he connects harshly with the ground. He pushes against Schlatt who just shoves him back down harder, Pete’s head colliding with the fence of the dugout.

His fist collided with Pete’s jaw, a sickening crack echoing through the now silent field. Pete groaned but barely had a second to recover before another blow landed, then another. Schlatt was relentless, rage pulsing through every hit, fist colliding with Pete’s face each time as he gripped his shirt tightly.

He didn't want to think about that, any of it. He hated the thought of Pete taking you to the dance, getting to even see you let alone touch you. You deserve someone who'll treat you right, not taunt your friend with the idea of suggestive pictures of you. Not someone who's currently beating up your date either, he think's as his knuckles keep colliding with Pete.

"You don’t get to talk about her like that!" Schlatt bellowed between punches, his voice raw and ragged. Pete tried to shove him off, but he was too weak, too dazed. Blood smeared across his cheek, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

"Schlatt, stop!" A voice finally broke through the chaos. A strong pair of arms yanked him back, dragging him off Pete. He thrashed against the grip, breath heaving, vision blurred with rage and unshed tears. His couch shoves him back on the bench, shooting him a hard glare as he tells everyone to back up, going to tend to Pete.

Schlatt falls apart when he sits down, shaking with pent up rage and anger as he feels himself begin to cry for the second time today.

What was wrong with him?

---

Thought you all might be interested 🥰 @jellybell92 @olive823 @schlattandcompany @imgayandvoreethatsall

[thebibutterflyao3]

I’m not arguing that fat phobia doesn’t exist within the fandom and the original texts itself, it is an issue that needs to be addressed more. However, to claim that the lack of inclusion of Peter in fanfics is only because of fat phobia is disingenuous. His character is not simply “flawed,” his betrayal is the catalyst for the entire series and he actively continues to escalate the conflict throughout. His only redemption is a hesitation to kill Harry that ends his own life, but even that is undermined by Dumbledore’s claim that Harry sparing his life creates a magical bond between them that may serve Harry later. Overlooking the horrific things that we know he did when discussing him is a “weak and shallow” analysis of an already flat character.

I agree that he deserved more depth and Peter certainly does not have to be portrayed as a villain in fanfics, especially if he’s a teenager. He’s not the one leading a cult or abusing children from a place of power (like a few teachers do). He is not portrayed as inherently evil, he’s desperate. At his core, he is insecure and should be explored as a sympathetic character. He admires and latches onto more powerful/stronger people for protection and needs validation from those in a place of power or authority. This is a relatable personality that can, and does, add a lot of interest and depth to the friendship group, but there is no mention of what he contributes and plenty of evidence that he was ignored/dismissed by Sirius (and possibly James) as useless well before his betrayal. He is the odd man out. I do wish we knew more about what led up to him going astray and about the dynamics within the group, but we don’t have that.

As for his motivation, I’ve written at length in the past that self-preservation is a valid motivation and that saving himself is not inherently selfish, but Peter goes beyond that. He murdered a handful of people, screamed out lies to frame Sirius, and destroyed a city block to escape retaliation for his actions. In the Shrieking Shack, he continued to lie and blame Sirius for his actions even after seeing how Sirius suffered. He caused unnecessary harm to save himself over and over again while completely disregarding the lives he destroyed in the process. He shows little remorse.

Bringing in Regulus or Lily is a logical choice because they are natural extensions of this friend group: Regulus is Sirius’s brother and a morally grey character with a redemption arc. He adds familial conflict and a sharp contrast to the Gryffindors. Lily is one of the few canonical Gryffindors that we know by name from their year and a woman who we know they were close to (although combative with). Personally, I prefer to write Lily as a confident, plus-sized character who doesn’t take anyone’s shite and I’ve seen several other portrayals of her in a similar way. Bringing in a strong female perspective to this group also creates an interesting shift in the dynamic.

Don’t get me wrong, adding positive, diverse representation where none exists is a choice and I would love to see more of it in this fandom. It is avoided in all generations of HP characters in canon and I know that Marauders writers make a conscious effort to diversify the characters we are largely creating from scraps.

As for Regulus, I didn’t see the need to delve into the nuance of his character on this thread because he is not the main topic, but to claim you “cannot find much of a difference” in canon between his character and Peter is ridiculous. Regulus is Draco’s mirror, not Peter’s. They were raised in the same belief system, faced with similar challenges, and ultimately balked at the expectations dumped on them. They were both children being manipulated by adults who knew better. That doesn’t take away the consequences of their actions, but it does put them in context. If you have no experience with cult-mindset, then it is easy to ignore the influence of these parents, the Blacks, who approved, and the Malfoys, who actively participated.

Peter does not have that parallel. He sought out Voldemort and the Death Eaters as an adult with the full knowledge of what he would be expected to do. He was a member of The Order and well aware of what they were doing.

The last line in my response above was flippant, I’ll admit that, but Voldemort is more often excluded from AUs than Peter. Accusing people of fat phobia because they don’t include Peter is probably better compared to accusing people of homophobia because they prefer a straight ship over a queer ship. If there is evidence that fat phobia is the reason for his exclusion, then by all means, point it out. However, the blanket accusations tossed out on behalf of an unrepentant, unnecessarily destructive character are not productive or constructive toward change in the fandom. It is generalized gas-lighting and guilt-tripping.

Regulus and Peter both betrayed people. They both worked for bad people. Hell, story wise I cannot find much of a difference between the two. Just one thing. Peter is fat and Regulus is a conventionally attractive twink.

Regulus or Lily always replaces Peter. Because why? Regulus also harmed many people.

Peter fanfics are so rare compared to the other marauders. He’s not included in poly marauders. Marauders without Peter isn’t the marauders.

Stop replacing Peter. He’s not a bad character, you’re just fatphobic.

[brehaaorgana]

Neil Gaiman Hit With Rape & Human Trafficking Suits After Months Of Allegations; Estranged Spouse Amanda Palmer Also Named In Multi-State Filings Deadline reports 2/3/2025.

I told y'all that I believed Amanda Palmer was absolutely part of his being a predator. And that's exactly how they're taking it to court, too:

After months of horrific allegations of sexual misconduct, The Sandman creator Neil Gaiman has been taken to court in a trio of states on allegations of rape, human trafficking and more by a former New Zealand nanny of his and musician Amanda Palmer’s son.

“This claim arises out of Defendant Neil Gaiman’s sexual abuse of Plaintiff, and his wife Amanda Palmer’s role in procuring and presenting Plaintiff to Gaiman for such abuse,” states a rape and human trafficking complaint filed in federal court Monday in Wisconsin by Scarlett Pavlovich.

&

Along with the midwestern state, where American Gods author and TV series EP Gaiman has a home, filings were submitted in New York, and Massachusetts by Pavlovich’s NYC-based Kamerman Uncyk Soniker & Klein P.C. lawyers with Palmer as the defendant.

Pavlovich and her attorneys claim that Palmer knew how vulnerable the plaintiff was mentally and economically and essentially led her into the lion’s den.

“Palmer was sufficiently aware that Gaiman was likely to target Scarlett, that she warned Gaiman to stay away from Scarlett before she brought Scarlett to Gaiman’s house as a babysitter,” the Empire State and New England state filings declare of the initial encounters with the openly open marriage Gaimans in the southwestern Pacific Ocean country and the early 2022 job offer. “Yet Palmer never warned Scarlett of the known danger posed by Gaiman. Had Palmer warned Scarlett of the known danger posed by Gaiman, Scarlett would never have agreed to babysit Palmer’s child at Gaiman’s house.”

I wish Scarlett Pavlovich all the best in this trial and I hope Gaiman and Palmer lose horrifically.

[getaapologist]

The Tension and the Terror..............Part VIII

Pairing: Emperor Geta x OFC (extremely loosely, character is named but otherwise not described besides hair length in a later part)

Summary: Geta makes a declaration of love. It isn't received well, through no fault of his own.

Warnings: violence, implication of SA (did not occur), 18+ only.

Word Count: 3.4k

Part 8 of 13?

[ Part VII ]

Series Masterlist

A/N: This is a bit more foundation work. I also didn't name Letha's brother (or any of her family) so you can picture whoever you want. I almost took all this out, I wasn't sure it fit everything I've written up to now, but I hope it works for you.

Raptio is literally "taking," but it's used to reference the abduction of women, to be used/enslaved or married against their will. The obvious implication there is SA, but I am not including that aspect here because it's just not needed. Being kidnapped is enough, surely. I don't know if it was really a punishable crime, but I sure hope so. It is in this version of events, anyway. The next two parts will pretty much be all Geta. Thanks for your patience!

Letha had beaten both Emperors to breakfast that morning, despite spending extra time in choosing a dress from the assortment delivered to her rooms the prior day. The anticipation of seeing Geta again drew her out of bed early. She took advantage of the quiet to actually eat a reasonable meal, only interrupted as she pushed the small plate away. 

“My brother dismissed all his concubines this morning. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?” Caracalla wasn’t really asking. He already knew she had something to do with it. Still, the news shocked her. She thought of Lyra, regretting her words. She hoped nothing awful had happened.

“I didn’t ask him to–”

“Of course you didn’t. You can’t tell us to do anything,” he sighed, pulling out his usual chair and plopping down in it. “Just thought you’d like to know.”

Letha took it for the kindness it was. “Thank you, Caracalla.”

He reached out and picked through the fruit, mischief lighting his eyes up. “So does this mean you two are fucking?”

She nearly choked. “N-No,” she responded, recovering, face on fire.

Caracalla giggled. She avoided looking over at him, instead choosing to study the elaborate craftsmanship of the table. It was a nice table, she thought, desperately trying to not think about Geta.

The chair beside Letha was pulled out and the man himself sank into it, a sly smile already on his face as he busied himself with adjusting his robes. He was all made up, ready for the day. Bright, shining, like Apollo. 

He leaned over, invading Letha’s space. “Did you get enough to eat?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” she assured him. She was nervous to meet his eyes again after the way she left him. She was relieved he didn’t seem upset with her, quite the opposite. 

Protective?

“How is your shoulder?”

“Better,” she answered. 

She noticed Caracalla watching his brother intently. She followed his gaze, surprised to see the dark maroon already lining his eyes. She expected to see the tired, fresh-from-bed version of Geta. This was… It was nice. 

“You sure look pretty for the senators, brother,” Caracalla teased.

Geta looked down to Letha, his gaze soft for once. “It’s not for them.” The smile returned. Her face probably felt hot to the touch. She almost pressed her own hand to her face to check. 

“Why do I even have to go?” Caracalla whined, slumping in his chair. “Can’t you tend to them by yourself?”

Geta looked over at his brother, his smile growing. “It’s our duty.” He picked up an apple and took a bite, his pleasant mood almost infectious. 

“I’ve never seen you so eager to fulfill our duty,” Caracalla grumbled. 

“You must get ready, ‘Calla,” Geta requested, his tone gentle. “It shouldn’t be a long meeting. Then you can have your games.” Another bite of the apple.

Geta was always so sweet to his brother. Letha couldn’t come up with a better word for it. Taking the sting out of responsibilities, soothing his panic and fear, distracting him with life’s pleasures to ease his mood. He tolerated his teasing, even when his patience had run out for all others. Caracalla was exempt from Geta’s poor moods. He only ever received a tiny fraction of Geta’s ire when his mouth got away from him and he seemed on the verge of revealing something in other company that Geta wished to remain private. 

And Caracalla intuitively understood his brother’s shifting moods and their cause, not usually having to ask him what was wrong, what might be bothering him. Perhaps all that time seated beside his brother he became a good study. 

“At least Letha will keep me company,” Caracalla smiled.

“The senators might balk at her presence,” Geta admitted.

“Since when do you care?”

“I don’t,” Geta claimed, glancing down at Letha. “She can come if she wants to.”

“Is she not here for my protection?” Caracalla asked, seemingly concerned.

“I’ve arranged for Tegula’s best man to remain at your side, at all times,” Geta explained, gesturing to a lightly armored man standing in the corner of the room, tucked in among the columns as if he was trying to be inconspicuous. “This is Ancus.”

Caracalla looked over at the man. Then back to his brother, to Letha. To Geta again. “But I don’t want Ancus, I want Letha,” Caracalla complained, something in his tone veering towards true agitation.

“She’s still healing, ‘Calla,” Geta explained. “She will be near, but I would feel better if Ancus stayed with you too, at least until we figure out who’s responsible for these attacks.”

“You just want her for yourself!” Caracalla accused, standing from his chair. Geta mirrored his movement, albeit much more slowly.

“Caracalla, I—” he paused, adopting a more gentle tone before continuing, “I will not keep her from you. She can do as she pleases. I just need to know that you are safe.”

His words seemed to soothe him enough, but Letha worried that this would not be the last of this conversation. Caracalla skulked off, and Ancus followed after him silently. 

Geta sank back into his chair with a sigh, his mood no longer nearly as pleasant.

“I will spend time with him today,” Letha offered, broaching the silence. 

He leaned his head back, his head turning in her direction lazily, a smirk appearing. “Not too much, I hope.”

“As much as is necessary to preserve his good temper,” she answered, the pressure of his warm eyes on her jump-starting that heat again, as if she were back in the gardens again, frozen beneath his stare.

“Oh, but then I’d never see you, Letha,” he teased, moving closer, “and I have more to offer you.”

“More?” She couldn’t help her eyes falling to his lips.

She jumped in her seat as his fingers found the skin along the inside of her leg, just past her knee, too close for where they were, in the middle of the dining hall. She quickly pressed her hands to his, trapping it against her skin. He squeezed.

He leaned over further, his lips finding her ear. “Just something for you to consider today, when you’re… deciding how to allocate your time.” His teasing was back in full force. He drew back, taking another bite of the apple, his stare unwavering as he chewed.

Letha could only watch him right back, thoughts boiling until her legs stopped shaking and she could stand.

Letha understood Caracalla’s complaints about having to meet with the Senators almost immediately. She could feel their eyes on her as soon as she stepped into the room, following behind the twins as they made their way over to their thrones, side by side. 

“A chair,” Geta summoned, pointing to the space beside his seat.

“By me, brother,” Caracalla insisted. 

Geta frowned, but relented.

Letha was sure to reach down and brush the hand gripping the arm of his seat with her fingers as she passed around the chairs, a consolation to try to keep him jovial. She took a seat as instructed, body turned in towards Caracalla in the presence of so many strangers, with clear distaste in their expressions for her unconventional presence.

“Caesars, forgive me, but what is this woman doing here? This is hardly the place for a dalliance—”

Geta rose, the speed of it startling some, Letha included. “She is a lady, and you will address her as such,” he corrected, standing before the bravest of the Senators. A display of power, of confidence. Of ego. “That lady is the reason your Emperors still stand and breathe. I believe you owe her an apology.”

He was incensed. Part of Letha almost felt bad for the Senator cowering before Geta, all his fury and splendor making him appear very much like a god. It shouldn’t have been so thrilling to see, but Letha couldn’t help herself.

“I am sorry, my lady,” he spoke, his eyes on Geta. His fear was palpable. 

Caracalla giggled beside her. “It’s not usually this entertaining.”

A few more moments of lording over the senator and Geta stepped back, slightly more composed. “What do you need of us today?” Geta finally asked, sinking back into his seat.

An older senator stood, stepping into the middle of the room, drawing Geta’s gaze. “There was a question of increasing your personal guard’s wages, Caesars?”

“Yes,” another stood, “We do have questions as to the… necessity of this. It is a steep price.”

Geta frowned. “Is our safety not worth the extra expense? We’ve had two attacks in as many days.”

“Well, perhaps if you did not hold such lavish dinner parties every night, the costs could go towards this increase you desire.”

“Senator Gracchus,” Geta smiled, standing. “I will remind you that we have not yet found the person responsible for bribing the Praetorian. Someone wishes us dead.”

Letha froze up in her seat. Yes, someone did. But they were looking in the wrong place. 

“The sum recovered was far too large for an average citizen to come up with,” Geta explained, circling the senator. All others had backed off, allowing all of Geta’s displeasure to focus in on Gracchus. “Should I have you interrogated? Or will you pay Tegula’s men what they are owed?”

A moment longer was all it took before Gracchus wavered, relenting. “They shall have it, Emperor.” A chorus of similar responses sounded throughout the room.

“Very good,” Geta praised, moving past the senator and reclaiming his seat. “What else?”

The doors at the back of the room opened and a tall, hulking figure clad in dark armor and a red cape strode in, bowing before the emperors before rising to his full height. The garish line across the side of his head still looked like it burned, the flesh vividly red around the line. The cut ear.

Letha recognized him immediately. She shrank in her seat, drawing Caracalla’s eye. A flash of her brother’s bruised and bloody face had her squeezing her eyes shut. It wasn’t enough, the image wouldn’t leave.

“Emperor Geta, Emperor Caracalla,” the general greeted. “I have come to report on my men.” He did not spare a glance to Letha. Either he mistook her for another of their concubines, or did not spend enough time in the Senate chambers to know how unusual her presence was. 

“General Plautianus,” Geta greeted. His eyes raked over the violent wound. “What of them?”

“Regrettably, they cannot seem to be contained,” Thraex interjected, eyes on the General as he got to his feet. “They drink the city dry and commit acts of violence upon its citizens. A brawl in a brothel just yesterday required a hefty discretionary payment to appease the owner so he didn’t ban the entire army.”

“They need to be sent away,” Gracchus agreed. “They are bored, and their victories have given them a feeling of entitlement to the city’s offerings.”

Oh, that sounds quite familiar, Letha frowned. So as long as it isn’t taking place in Rome, that’s what matters, she thought bitterly, sinking back into her memories and tuning out the rest of the conversation. 

“Your God-Emperors are cowards,” Letha’s brother spoke, his lip split, his brow leaking blood. His eye socket looked broken, his skin beginning to darken around his eye. 

“You should hold your tongue,” General Plautianus spat, stepping past the man crumpled against the wall. Another soldier knelt beside him, gripping the cloth covering his shoulders tightly, keeping him upright.

“You Romans can’t take a joke,” he laughed. It devolved into a coughing fit not long after, his hands going to his ribs as he grimaced.

Letha looked up, worry filling her as she waited for her brother to recover, desperately trying to figure out how to help him, how to get them out of this mess.

“You should stop talking before you choke on your blood,” another soldier threatened.

“You’d have to hit me a bit harder for that,” he grunted, clearly nursing a broken rib.

“Brother, please!” Letha pleaded, begging for him to be silent. Him egging on their captors would ruin their chances of surviving this night. 

The sound of the harsh slap cut through the room, almost echoing. For a moment Letha couldn’t feel her face at all. Then it all flooded in at once, tears welling, clouding her vision.

She could hear her brother shouting, the soldiers joining in. She tried to ignore the way her cheek stung, too concerned for her brother’s welfare to care about her own. It was one blow versus the great many he’d suffered at their hands already. 

They were holding him down against the wall, it took two of them now. The General stood before her, his hand still outstretched from the slap, though his eyes were cast over his shoulder at her brother as he spouted insulting, angry words.

“You are lucky you’re considered one of Rome’s subjects now,” the General spoke, returning his attention to Letha. “Your dear father pleaded for your safety, and I can think of none better to secure it than me.”

Letha understood his intent, the implication of his words. It was nothing new. It was all men ever did. She couldn’t be dragged to Rome. She refused. As her brother drew his attention once more, his protests much more spirited, she saw only one opportunity to save herself from that future. 

She reached forward and drew the sword from its hilt on his belt, the sound of it drawing all attention to her. It was heavier than she was used to, the blade much wider. Still, she didn’t waste a moment, swinging it recklessly at the General’s head. It drew blood, but the recoil of it hitting his thick skull forced it out of her hands. He roared, his hands moving to cover the red line leaking blood down the side of his head. 

Letha felt the stabbing point of a gladius at her back, the soldier’s boot forcing her flat onto the floor. She wondered if it had drawn blood, it felt quite sharp even through the dress. Even if she had just signed her own death warrant, that would be preferable to the alternative.

Plautianus hissed as he cupped his ear, reaching down for his discarded sword. He used it to tilt her face up, forcing her to see the wound she’d created. “You’ll pay for that,” he assured her.

“Please, just leave her alone,” her brother pleaded. “It was stupid, she shouldn’t have done it, but don’t hurt her.”

His words stung. He was right, it was incredibly stupid of her, but she had to do something–

“No, no–”

The blade had left her chin without her realizing it. It was embedded in her brother’s throat. She screamed.

“Letha,” Caracalla whispered, a hand pressing against her cheek, drawing her back to the present. “Are you alright?” She jumped, crashing out of the vivid memory. He moved his hand down to squeeze hers. “Do you want something to drink?”

She shook her head, eyes landing on Plautianus. He wore the very same armor as that day. 

He is the monster.

“I will think on it,” Geta answered, dismissing the senators. “General, I would like to speak with you, if you have the time.” He wasn’t really asking.

Plautianus nodded, clasping his hands together in front of him, watching the senators as they trickled out of the room. As his eyes scanned the room, they finally landed on her. There was a flicker of recognition in his eyes and he reflexively reached up for the side of his head, to the scar there. He said nothing of it, instead returning his attention to his smiling Emperor.

“Letha,” Geta called out, reaching an arm out for her to join him. Her stomach sank like a stone. “Come on,” he urged, as if he were coaxing a small child into a room full of strangers. As if it were shyness keeping her in her seat. But he didn’t know. How could he know?

She stood on shaky legs and released Caracalla’s hand to walk over, trying to keep her eyes on Geta so she didn’t fall into a state of panic. Even though months had passed, it was now so fresh in her mind, as if it had happened only days ago. She felt ill.

Geta was concerned, but he hid it well. He wrapped an arm around her waist and returned his attention to the General. 

“I’d like to introduce you to Letha,” Geta spoke, looking down at Letha with something close to love in his eyes. Perhaps she was imagining it to save herself from the reality of what was unfolding.

“I don’t believe you two have met, unless… Well, have you?” Geta prodded, all pretense falling away. 

Letha felt herself suck in a deep breath at the realization. Geta knew. How much, she couldn’t say. But he knew of their meeting, likely how she was brought to Rome. How she was purchased by Macrinus. From Macrinus himself, she thought. It would explain their new closeness. What else had Macrinus shared?

General Plautianus seemed just as caught off guard. He looked like he wasn’t sure if he ought to lie, or admit to his crime. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Geta frowned. “Ancus,” he muttered, signaling for him to approach. 

Ancus moved swiftly behind the General, pressing his boot into the back of Plautianus’s knee to force him onto the marble, his hands gripping the pauldrons to keep the General still.

“Raptio,” Geta spat, “is a crime, General. Just in case you’ve forgotten.”

The sound of a sword being drawn sent shivers of revulsion down Letha’s spine. The tremors that Geta had stilled with his hand at her lower back resumed. The General looked truly frightened. It didn’t fill Letha with any amount of satisfaction. She was just as scared as he was.

Geta raised the General’s sword high so he could inspect the edge, trying to determine its sharpness. He pressed the blade to the spot just above the chestplate, letting the tip bite through the cloth covering the base of his throat before turning to Letha, ignoring the General altogether.

“Should he be killed?”

Letha could see now the warnings she’d been given. Geta was deadly. He was clever and vengeful and violent. But he hid it well. So well. Much better than Caracalla. Seeing the senators scared to defy him, the way his General seemed scared of his whims, she should’ve been scared of him too. 

But it was never directed at her. And even now, it was being done in service of her desires, her wants. She felt… honored. He was offering her a gift. A declaration of love if looked at in the right light. 

She felt her own love for him beginning to bud, but her memories were too distracting in the moment, keeping her expression empty, her body trembling. If they were somewhere else, she might have taken the time to explain, so he’d understand she wasn’t spurning him intentionally, she just couldn’t get a handle on her own mind.

“Emperor!” Plautianus lifted his hands up from his waist, his plea desperate. “T-This is improper.” 

Geta glowered down at him, his eyes narrowed. 

“She attacked us,” he tried to explain. Ancus kept his knees pressed to the floor.

“Quiet!” Geta ordered, glaring at the General. He returned his eyes to Letha’s, his gaze softening immediately.

In that moment all Letha could do was stand there and try to keep her tears at bay. 

Was this the same sword used on her brother?

Geta was patient, reading into the way she shook slightly, a bead of sweat falling down over her temple. She was terrified. Perhaps now wasn’t the best time. He could drag him out again later on, when she felt more up to it.

“It seems Justicia has saved you today, Plautianus. Find solace in your cell.”

The sword was silently returned to Ancus and as soon as it left Geta’s hand he brought her back in close, whisking her away from the scene and over to the golden thrones. 

“Brother?” Caracalla asked, clearly confused.

“I will explain later,” Geta spoke, his eyes focused on Letha. His hands found her cheeks, attempting to soothe her. “I should not have sprung that upon you,” he realized. 

“I-I do not think–I think I should lie down,” she confessed, a tear spilling down her cheek. She could see the heartbreak plain in Geta’s eyes. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I can attend the games today, I don’t feel well.”

“It’s fine,” Geta assured her, smoothing her hair out of her face. “I should have warned you.”

She couldn’t say anything more, couldn’t offer some placating remark to soothe his mood. She needed calm and quiet, and she wouldn’t get that from the arena. She hoped he understood that.

[ Part IX ]

[aranryan]

Punch-Out!! Wii Boxers as Pokemon, as written by a die-hard Pokemon fanatic

Contents of post under cut. Hope you all enjoy.

1. Glass Joe - Smeargle

It was a tough toss-up between Smeargle and Masquerain for this one, but I ultimately settled on Smeargle, because I feel the goofy look on Smeargle's face matches Joe's overall silliness better than Masquerain would, and can have the ability Own Tempo which fits Joe better than Masquerain's Intimidate or Unnerve. It's also just as frail as Masquerain is, with pitiful defenses, neither of which stat reaches past 50, and mediocre HP at 55. Although Smeargle is nothing especial at all as a Pokemon, it's become a fan favorite amongst Pokemon fans for its cute and stylish design and its unique niche with Sketch, mirroring Glass Joe's individual charm and longevity within the Punch-Out!! series, despite being as weak as he is.

2. Von Kaiser - Haxorus

Whilst a fair argument could be made in favor of a Pokemon such as one within the Lillipup line or Drampa used to represent Von Kaiser, I feel Haxorus fits him best. They even look similar, with Haxorus' tusks matching Kaiser's moustache, and even their colour schemes are quite close! Haxorus is a fierce Pokemon with a high Attack stat, but it is severely underpowered amongst its fellow Dragon-types and often does not excel in any particular way due to its subpar Speed and defenses. Whilst a good Pokemon on its own and even ranked as high as OU in its prime in Gen V, it was quickly outclassed by other dragons and immediately weakened by the introduction of Fairy-types, which it struggles to counter. This parallels Von Kaiser's boxing history--once a fantastic boxer, now reduced to the lower ranks by age and rustiness.

3. Disco Kid - Kantonian Raichu

A spunky Electric-type Pokemon for a spunky, electric-personality guy! AND they're both blonde! I mean, I dunno, I don't have a complex explanation for this one. I can just so perfectly imagine a Raichu dancing around and just having fun like Disco Kid does. It's not a particularly strong Pokemon, but it has plenty of fans regardless.

4. King Hippo - Hippowdon

This one is pretty self-explanatory, don't you think? King Hippo, Hippowdon...they're just the same picture. A notoriously defensive Pokemon, Hippowdon's Defense stat perfectly mimics King Hippo's Title Defense fighting strategy. Hippowdon's primary benefit as a defensive tank is access to the move Slack Off, which allows it to regain health--and it's pretty obvious that King Hippo does his own fair share of slacking off too, as shown in his intro cutscene. Not only that, but Hippowdon can also learn Stockpile and Swallow via breeding--again similar to how King Hippo can eat masses of food in his intro.

5. Piston Hondo - Scizor

Come on, now. Don't they look identical? From the intense, determined expressions to the red-clad fists to the lean yet strong appearance. Scizor's moveset is full of setup moves that you could easily imagine Hondo would want to learn as techniques for battle in his intense training sessions. Not only that, but Hondo's quick punches are very much like the Bullet Punches which Scizor is known best for in the competitive scene, and are also similar to some of Scizor's other moves, such as Quick Attack, Double Hit and Vacuum Wave.

6. Bear Hugger - Greedent

I bet you were expecting me to assign Bear Hugger Ursaring or Ursaluna, weren't you? But I think Greedent is absolutely perfect for him. The name "Bear Hugger" doesn't necessarily mean he has to be a bear--and besides, it's a cute little nod to his squirrel buddy he fights alongside in Title Defense! Greedent is large and sports a cheeky grin just like Bear Hugger does, not to mention the bountiful fur reminiscent of Bear Hugger's beard. There's not much else to be said here, I think this one is pretty straightforward!

7. Great Tiger - Kantonian Persian

As majestic and self-assured as Great Tiger is, Persian is a fantastic Pokemon to represent him. Not only do they both have a flashy little forehead jewel, and both draw from feline inspirations, Persian's status as a Gen I Normal-type means it gets access to a whole lot of really interesting moves, including Thunderbolt, Icy Wind, Bubblebeam, and--in the case of a special event Meowth--Petal Dance, all useful elemental Special moves that fit Great Tiger with his magical prowess and his gathering of elemental power for his Title Defense fight. Daeen se.

8. Don Flamenco - Roserade

Another pretty self-explanatory assignment. Both have an affinity for beauty and style coupled with a rose association. Not only that, but Roserade's design and name pay homage to masquerade balls, a popular festive activity in Western Europe--which, of course, includes Spain, Don Flamenco's home country. (...they're more popular in Italy and France, but let's not worry about that.)

9. Aran Ryan - Shiny Jolteon

It just wouldn't be right for the lucky bastard to NOT be a Shiny Pokemon, would it? Jolteon's Shiny boasts shockingly (ha) similar colours to Aran's typical palette, with purple eyes and inner ears to match his gloves, and green fur to match his trunks. Jolteon's typical fighting style is also quite similar to that of Aran's in-game movements, as a very annoying fast pivot who chips away at opponents with Volt Switch and disappears back into the party before the enemy can even move. Even despite this, both of these little green nasties remain as fan favorites.

10. Soda Popinski - Salamence

Absolutely large and in charge, the both of them. Aside from pure muscle and size, the two share similarities in ability--Salamence's Intimidate is fitting for, well, Soda's appearance alone, but Moxie is a little more specific and accurate, Salamence's attack boosts matching the way Soda powers himself up with...soda. They're just two big and bulky beasts. It's plain and simple.

11. Bald Bull - Combat Breed Paldean Tauros

Just a total load of bull here. Bald Bull becomes a bull, simple enough. I picked specifically Paldean Tauros for the fact it's fighting type, though, and because of Tauros' brand-new move from Gen IX, Raging Bull, which perfectly parallels Bald Bull's fighting style. I also think, oddly enough, that the Combat Breed Tauros' blunt horns are a little more fitting for Bald Bull than Kantonian, Blaze and Aqua Breeds' sharper horns. This guy is pure muscle--he doesn't need sharp horns to put up a tough fight!

12. Super Macho Man - Druddigon

Bit of a weird pick, sure, but it's the American-flag-coloured dragon from the American region, just think about it! Plus, Druddigon is physically jacked--capable of shattering bouldars--and has massive Attack, just like Macho Man himself. Druddigon's Rough Skin ability is also reminiscent of Macho Man's rigid bodybuilder muscle--which I imagine would have absolutely no softness or elasticity to it, eugh. Being a typical Western-style dragon also means Druddigon would likely enjoy hoarding treasure, similar to the golden cosmetics Macho Man adorns himself with--not to mention his masses of wealth.

13. Mr. Sandman - Krookodile

Of course Mr. "Sand"man has to be a Ground-type. All jokes aside, for a strong, intimidating guy, you need a strong, intimidating Pokemon. And I mean literally--"Intimidate" is one of Krookodile's abilites, as is Moxie, an extremely powerful ability that raises its attack after every KO. Its hidden ability is Anger Point, which is akin to Sandman's temper but also similar to Moxie as well. Krookodile boasts an incredible range of devastating attacks, from Earthquake to Close Combat to Gunk Shot to Stone Edge, as well as an enormous Attack stat. A dedicated, all-out attacker is the absolute pinnacle of a Pokemon to assign to Mr. Sandman.

Let me know what you all think of my assignments! :D

[oldbutchdanielcraig]

do u have any other movies (or other media) you'd recommend to ppl who loved queer?

OH ABSOLUTELY.

as for books:

Dancers from the Dance by Andrew Holleran: set in New York, centers around one character and largely his platonic friendship with an older queen. it's also about queer identity and the seeming near-impossibility of finding love especially while queer. really beautiful character work and really devastating.

I'd also recommend reading Queer if you haven't because it's super short and an easy/engaging read. I personally think the movie enhances the book in a lot of ways but there's really great stuff missing from the final cut of the movie that I adore and it's fun to make those comparisons.

You could also go full-out and read other Burroughs (I haven't yet so take me with a grain of salt) and if you do I'd start with Junky and Naked Lunch which I believe are the most Queer-adjacent works — both tackle similar topics and feature William Lee as the protagonist, though it's not like. a series y'know.

as for movies:

works of David Cronenberg: start with Naked Lunch, obv, because it's a great adaptation and Queer takes direct inspiration from a lot of it! next go for Dead Ringers for identity + codependency and The Fly for more identity exploration. (bonus points if after THAT Dead Ringers you watch the series where Rachel Weisz stars. I love my bi4bi toxic gay media couple)

works of David Lynch: also a direct inspiration for Luca's Queer! he's where a lot of the surrealism comes in which I think is awesome. above anything I'd recommend Lost Highway and Mulholland Drive which are both movies that Also tackle earth-shattering crises of identity and blending into the other etc. both really good.

The Talented Mr. Ripley: not quite the same, but toxic and gay and about how queerness shapes identity. really good. if you haven't seen it you should.

other works of Luca's: I just love this guy. for the most similar vibes I'd go for Bones and All and Suspiria which have elements of codependency and identity and all that good stuff. controversially I would also say to watch Call Me By Your Name if you haven't (and maybe even read the book 😬)? I could say thousands of words about the nuances of choosing to recommend that and it's like. they will tell you that Queer is not CMBYN 2 and they will be right in basically every way. except for the thinking man who knows that Luca read Queer at 18 and it profoundly shaped him and is precisely what makes CMBYN a good movie in the first place. TO ME.

[all-pacas]

I can’t quite congeal this into a proper question so it’s okay if you don’t have much of a response but I was thinking about Cameron and your thoughts on her. I was thinking about how she started out as the fellow who defended House the most and moved onto being the one who saw House as corrupting everyone around him, who didn’t want Chase to go back to Diagnostics. Her journey is just so interesting

YEAH NO she's fascinating. she really starts off s1 hard on the asskissing: in the pilot she has a whole thing defending house as "someone who doesn't believe in pretense, who says what he wants," which… doesn't completely gel with cameron's later character (as someone who would much rather lie than tell an unpleasant truth), but is telling for who she was written to be. and it's everywhere in s1: foreman makes fun of her for not believing in god but believing everything house says; she alone doesn't believe he has a drug problem in detox, etc. my absolute favorite is in heavy, when house thinks cameron might have made a mistake: cameron is furious. she is personally betrayed:

CAMERON: I’m the only one who’s always stood behind you when you’ve screwed up. HOUSE: Why? Why would you support someone who screws up? CAMERON: Because I’m not insanely insecure. And because I can actually trust in another human being and I am not an angry, misanthropic son of a bitch.

i love this, because it is so - it makes no sense. house is right. why is she touting her loyalty when house fucks up as a selling point worthy of praise? why does she think it's a mark of confidence to back someone she knows is wrong? but it's very cameron, all righteous fury.

and it's fascinating too to watch her slowly shift away from this stance. she loses a lot of it after their date: while cameron doesn't completely get over house for a while, she never pursues him again and starts off s2 with a crush on a patient (so she's clearly moving on); she sort of… slides back in s3 when house is struggling with the ketamine wearing off (getting fully white knight about it), but is absolutely furious with him after and during the tritter arc: if i were to name a turning point for cameron, that was it. with vogler, with a lot of house's mistakes, she/we can sort of handwave house as "he's doing the right thing, just not playing by the rules" (she says as much about him in role model); house is sort of noble, right? but tritter really exposes the lengths house will go to when he's in a corner: he alienates basically everyone, punches out chase, and then cheats his way through rehab. and cameron… moves on. she tells house in human error she thinks he'll be just fine on his own, which is in a way a complete departure for cameron, who spent s1 trying to be his best supporter, s3 his protector, etc.

it isn't that she stops caring, right? while i do generally believe her when she starts tiredly insisting she's over house by s3, he's definitely always someone she's gonna be attracted to and drawn to, even though the shine and hero worship have absolutely worn off. and there's some interesting dynamic stuff at play too -- cameron really treats house and wilson like equals in a way chase and foreman don't, in a way house and wilson also don't really treat the 'kids:' she insists on being on equal footing with them, talks to them like peers instead of an underling, and that persists for most of the series: i've said it before, but cameron and house are much more alike than they're given credit for, too, yeah? and in a way it all comes together: as cameron's worshipping shine fades, she treats house as more of an equal and stops agreeing with everything he says and does in an attempt to make him love her, which in turn house responds to i think -- he too starts treating her more like a peer as time goes by. but she no longer has that loyalty in that same way. she's no longer trying to be his protector. they're peers.

and so when s6 happens… i mean, let's be real. cameron is scapegoating house. house says it. chase says it. she, fair enough, doesn't want chase to have killed a guy, so she's shifting the blame onto a convenient target. she's known for years house plays games, his messing around in teamwork is fairly innocuous and not different from his s4 games (that she participated in actively). but at this point she's looking for an excuse to blame house, to protect chase, and house no longer has that hero worship shine………

idk, i'm really just rambling too, but i so agree with you; cameron has such a fascinating arc (there's also the way she gets progressively more cheerful and confident as the years pass) and really doesn't get credit for it. i hate that she left the show and the show suffers without her, but… i love she was able to do it, you know? she's just the best

[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

Okay, I don't know if this has been suggested before, but Cat Stan au, where Stan DOES know how his curse works. He actually tries to not trigger it. But the thing is. He just fucking can't. He tries to work at different workplaces, warying from different gas-station cafes to construction sites. Somehow, more often than not, he either ends up in a danger, or unpaid, or his past activities catching up, so he is forced to move and is forced to steal to not die starving. Who knew turning from a criminal life to a somewhat stable job-having one would be difficult! His desperate job hunt, intertwined with paw-periods, leads him to a seemingly quiet town, there he hopes his shit won't be able to catch up and bite him in the ass AGAIN. So, he manages to convince the local diner to get him on job, despite the locals insisting he's some kooky hermit they know (weird), and he manages to make money! He sure hopes nothing goes wrong!

Haha! God, being forced to be a model citizen or be a cat. Agony for him. Also, paw periods? Amazing. 10/10. Love that name.

I imagine there's a series of shenanigans that make it so Ford and Stan don't meet for like, a month, and they keep getting confused for each other. Over the month they get increasingly annoyed by their doubles actions that they get blamed for, neither of them makes a connection that it could be their twin. Because they're idiots lol.

I can't decide if it would be funnier to meet up like normal, or like. In the grocery store :0 at each other.

[mamanamao]

show me, p☆rnstar

Cpt. John Price x Trans Masc P�� Reader

Part 1/?

word count:

tags: nsfw/mdni, dom price/sub reader

a/n: genitalia is referred to as cunt/pussy, clit, etc just in case that makes you uncomfy, now please enjoy my first time ever writing smut lol (also this just a quick intro to a small smut series dedicated to every trans masc with daddy issues, aka me) no use of y/n, I cannot go that farback

Being an upcoming porn actor on the internet was the last thing you had imagined would be what helped pay for rent and your last year of college but here you were. Men paid for personal videos, and twice a week after classes you’d live-stream yourself riding silicone that made you wish was the real thing or test out adult toys from sponsors, and yet you never felt full or satisfied. Of course, you had no regrets about your career choice but nothing could bring you that high that your friends would talk about when they’d gush about how amazing having sex with their partners was. You tried dating men left and right, tried signing up for dating apps, tried the god forbidden speed dating but no one caught your eye. Even one night stands felt boring by now.

There was someone on your mind though, someone who you couldn’t even put a face to, just an anonymous name, bravo06. It was silly to think about one of your followers this much, to have the memory of hearing your little alert play everytime he dropped hundreds of dollars on you just so his request could be top priority, and he’d always just ask for something simple, to moan out his username or give the camera a pretty little smile, it definitely caught your attention when it happened the first time. Usually others would drop this much just so they could request more outlandish shit that made you wonder how the hell they came up with that. 

You wondered what he looked like, what his voice would sound like against your ear as he plunged his fingers deep into your cunt. It was so overwhelming, especially when alone at night you’d try so hard to imagine the kind of man he was as you held a violet bullet vibrator against your clit and drilled thick silicone into your dripping pussy. Moans filling your lonely apartment as your head fell back against cotton pillows, leaking cum onto the towel that was laid out underneath you. Was this wrong? Jerking off to some anonymous stranger who literally paid you just to entertain himself, maybe. 

It was another one of those nights, setting up your tripod in front of your bed, making sure everything was clean and neat, LED lights glowing a soft blue into the room. Yes, anyone would prefer red but you liked how blue light made you look on screen, tempting. As you made the last of your preparations you started to wonder if he would be watching tonight, a rush of excitement running down your spine to your thighs, kind of made you a little giddy. Oh what you’d do to give him a private show. Honestly, it surprised you that he never requested one, that was a service you offered for the same amount he’d drop on you every live-stream but he never did, you always wondered why. 

[nawoken]

im back with more thoughts on soulbound au. Wjat if reader's Soulmate got isekaied to twst and expected reader to return to them cuz theyre soulmates as if they didnt just reject the name on their wrist, as if they have the right to just demand it even as reader is with the first years now (excluding ortho grim). How would the boys react to reader just snapping and declaring they feel no love for soulmate. That they love their current partner instead. I can imagine some of them just gloating and acting like a really doting partner in front of the soulmate like "look what you cant have"

Bonus for grim and ortho like "who needs you when i have my feral cat/technological humanoid built by a genius. Get his ass!" And they just send grim and ortho out like pokemons LMAO

Love yourself

(TWST x Broken Soulbond! Reader)

5.C: Hehe, I’m glad u have the same thought as mine, Mortal~

Because as petty as I am, since the moment I had the idea for this AU, I already have the scene where your Soulmate by some way gets to TWST and wants the reader back but gets rejected by them.

I mean, who do they think they are, broke the strongest bond in the world and then came back and demanded it like they deserve it?!

The name has two meanings since the content of this one chapter reminded me of "Love Yourself" by Justin Bieber as something reader would want to tell their Soulmate. The other is just simply loving yourself, something I want to tell you guys and myself.

Pairing: Ace Trappolar; Deuce Spade x g/n Reader

I will do the other later I guess, sorry for the late update, I have writer's block for this one, including my absence due to January cause I have a school break.

Warning: :D)

The moment your Soulmate lands their ass at TWST, you can feel the tug in your heart, the arch, the itch of your Soulmark, and the familiar pulling come from your soul that you’ve almost forgotten during your stay at twisted wonderland. That’s how you know they’re here, and they also feel your faint presence.

The moment your Soulmate lands their ass at TWST, you can feel the tug in your heart, the arch, the itch of your Soulmark, and the familiar pulling come from your soul that you’ve almost forgotten during your stay at twisted wonderland. That’s how you know they’re here, and they also feel your faint presence.

Ace Trappola:

He is unhappy when hearing that your Soulmate has spawned in TWST. (Let’s be real, all of them are, maybe except Kalim or Vil…)

He is sulking the whole way both of you walk to the Headmage office cause apparently, your Soulmate demands to see you the moment they know you’re here.

Ace refuses to let you meet that person alone, Crowley? That crow can not be trusted.

Hearing them ask you to go back, with them, and by their side. Ace glares hard as if if he tries enough, that person will disappear.

They, in fact, do not disappear though.

Plan B, Ace starts to make some comments, he is sarcastic about your Soulmate, berating their behavior toward you.

He interferes every time you try to speak up, to give your supposed to be Soulmate an answer. Basically, he is being annoying till the point you have to kick him out of the room.

Ace doesn't really want to hear your answer, deep down, he worries that you will actually choose your Soulmate over him.

Waiting outside until you finish your conversation, no matter how long it takes.

Seeing you walking out of the room, he tries to act like he doesn't care. But he cares, a lot actually.

Tell him you have rejected the request since... you already have him as your Soulmate while showing him the Basketball wrist wrap he gave you.

Gotta say Heartslabyul is very good at growing tomatoes.

The following days were a series of days, each time you guys pass by your Soulmate, Ace will give them a smug look while walking hand in hand with you.

Deuce Spade:

Deuce, our sweetheart. The first thing he does after he hears that your Soulmate wants to meet you: Asks if you want him to beat them for you.

I mean, ask if you want him to assist you or do you prefer meeting them alone because model students don’t fight (Please bring him with you Ơ ^ Ơ).

It actually doesn’t matter, he will still follow you if you choose the second option, but more secretly (not really).

He doesn’t like your Soulmate, not a bit. But hearing your Soulmate’s request? He almost let them drown under at least three cauldrons (If you are quick enough).

How dare they be so casual about it? Do they not know how much you suffer?

But, Deuce will respect your choice, even if it can be hurtful. Telling you that it is okay if you want to be back with them. He is on the verge of crying, a sad puppy.

Do you really mean that he is more important than the Soulbond?

Give you a tight hug, I mean, a really tight one. He thought that he was going to lose you. But he is happy now, with the brightest smile present on his face.

And now your ex-Soulmates is being the third wheel here.

[ngage2003]

✰ Some of Gage's Tim Wright DID Headcanons/Ideas (DIDeas, hey get it?)

Ok so I have talked a fair bit on my blog about Tim being a system, but I wanted to make a post real quick talking about several ideas I have around his systemhood bc I am going crazy and need to share them.

✦ Hey! If you like this and want to hear more about my Tim system stuff, check out my tag #ng.systim.

Alright, so I think a lot of/most of Tim's system has been around for a very long time, as in he doesn't split too often. Usually when they do, parts end up getting reabsorbed, leading to a very small system count that the active parts are aware of.

(Of course, there are always some parts hiding in headspace/the subconscious, but they're impossible to find unless they want to be.)

I think Tim's system doesn't have a headspace in the stereotypical sense, and generally when they're not fronting, it is sort of like they're asleep, though I think people like Masky would object to that characterization because he doesn't ever really sleep/dream. Usually when he goes to bed, Tim wakes up.

✱ Speaking of "Masky"! I have talked about this a couple times but I think he would end up going by the name "Angel" after hearing about the concept of Guardian Angels, as that is literally what he is to Tim. I also see him as a sort of "Protector" archetype, having formed probably around the same time that Tim did as a young child and acting to take on dealing with the trauma for him.

I think Masky's femininity comes from the fact that they (the system as a whole) as a young child idolized their mother as this protective force, this bulwark that was impenetrable and fierce and powerful. They tied all that to her femininity to some extent, and when Masky formed, they were feminine because that was what they associated with strength and protection.

I think Tim and Masky are somewhat equals though, but Masky is also deeply in love with Tim in the way only a protector alter can be. "My purpose is to keep you safe and I love you for it." It is this genuine deep affection, and I think if Tim were to discover Masky, there could be some proper feelings returned eventually after the initial scare.

"Ok but if Masky loves Tim so much why does he work with Brian and get their leg broken??"

Well, I think Brian was both of their first best friend. Whenever Tim was overstimulated and/or scared, whether that be by people or an upcoming final, Masky would front. Brian obviously didn't know this and was just like, "huh wow my buddy Tim is being weird and quiet!" And his kindness left a profound effect on Masky.

Early in Marble Hornets, Masky visits Brian's house regularly despite him being long gone, locking it when he isn't there. Yeah it is a mess, but its being watched over.

I think Brian approached him after Jay got the tapes to ask for his help. I think before then, Brian was in hiding but this isn't a post about him. I think despite being a protector, Masky agreed to help Brian because of how kind he was to him, a mistake he later fully rescinds when Brian causes Tim to have a seizure.

Masky deeply regrets this, and is in turmoil after it for the rest pf the series, leading to their spotty fronting besides protecting Tim in Entry 65 after once again being triggered out by seizures.

Ok that is enough rehashing of other older points lets talk about the idea of— ✱ Other Parts

I think its very possible that Tim at least has a little alter. I haven't given it too much thought, but I think there is stuff hidden around their living space for the little¹, crayons and pencils and spare papers, these doodles hidden under the bed. I also think they have a stuffed animal from when Tim was a kid at one, something Tim keeps meaning to throw out but always ends up back in bed.

[1] An alter/part that earnestly believes they are and acts younger than the body. They aren't real kids but often will experience distress at being reminded of that or not treated like a kid, and generally will struggle with emotional reasoning or processing stuff, as a child might. Often they're the most protected members of a system.

I think there is probably several points where they accidentally front in front of other people, but Tim's little is very anxious and quiet, leading to them being undetected.

I could honestly see them fronting while Tim and Jay are living at motels for that brief period of time, and Jay just being confused why Tim suddenly got emotional and started crying a bit and not communicating. (The little doesn't have their plush and is upset.)

Jay ends up sitting with him and rubbing his back, and it feels like such a crazy thing to do with Tim of all people—stalwart, endlessly brave Tim—but Jay does it, and it helps.

I think Jay doesn't mention it tomorrow because he doesn't want to upset/embarrass Tim and quite obviously, Tim doesn't remember.

I think Tim's childhood stuffed animal is a dog of some kind, and he simply forgot to bring it.

Alsooo I do not think Tim's system really has introjects²? (I say this mostly because I don't know what the fuck media they'd be from lmao.) But I do think there is an alter which holds more of the musical talent between them all. Not all of it, but they just remember more. I think they also know how to play piano along with ukulele and if given the chance they'd love to make little ditties to impress people.

[2] Alters whose personalities are based off of an interpretation of a character held by another specific alter or the general subconscious. Sometimes they think of themselves literally as the character but not always.

I don't have a name for them, as I don't really either for the little, but this bard I think would enjoy dressing a bit more colorful than Tim usually does.

Also could see them having a very aggressive persecutor³-trauma holder alter who split off of Masky during when they were in the hospital. Generally I think Masky was even more aggressive during this time due to his system feeling so threatened and dehumanized and him feeling powerless to protect/take care of them, and it resulted in a very harsh split after Masky lit the fire in the hospital to escape. This led to them "chilling out" a bit for college, but also a very aggressive persecutor who lurks in the back of their mind.

[3] Put it simply, a protector who doesn't know how to be a protector. Persecutors are often very angry about the trauma and very hurt, leading to them lashing out and trying to reenact trauma or push people away or whatever. They tend to be very emotional and hurt, and its important to empathize with them as a way to help them heal. Unfortunately no one in systim has done this yet.

I think their appearance in headspace would almost be sort of fiery/charred, this representation of retribution and anger that lashes out when anyone gets close. I could see them also having a mask since they split off from Masky, and were this product of futile rage that developed into something new! Though also obviously their mask would look a bit different. I dunno, that'd be fun.

(For us, if alters split off from one another like that, like if they're a part of that alter which splits off or a specific trauma, they will often look to some degree similar!)

I think they would very rarely front, at least on their own. Masky would be very cautious about that, and about them hurting the body or other people by lashing out. Because even when Masky is helping Brian or angry, he usually still has somewhat enough of a mind to be careful and deep down his main priority is Tim. (Though he doesn't always behave wisely/good and we loveeee a flawed protector 😁)

Anyway yeah those are my main thoughts I am a bit tired rn lol I might rb this with more later I hope you enjoyeddd