#Why are you projecting this kind of trauma onto your cat like

[thornsent]

queer exchange groups are buck wild

[sapphire-weapon]

I actually agree with you analysis with Aeon, because there is one thing that’s been bugging me this whole time about their “relationship”.

Leon states in Vendetta that he is tired of all the fighting, so much to the point to where he starts drinking. But what bothers me the most is that Ada in her shitty storyline is stealing samples to later trade as per orders of Wesker.

For me, it almost undermines Leon’s goal in the sense that the one thing he wants to end is being continued by the woman he is so in love with. Because of his love with her, he’s willing to turn a blind eye to her actions all because he loves her???

Leon’s character is being questioned. Which doesn’t make sense cause his whole thing is to save people but when the girl he loves is continuing the cycle that he wants to end, he just doesn’t care??? Like Leon was top of his class in the police academy, labeled as smart. But just because he sees a pretty girl his intelligence kind of just gets thrown out the window.

I like both characters, but i feel like their little cat and mouse game destroys both characters completely.

Anyway, sorry to ramble, keep up the analysis. i’m lovin’ it!

So, this has actually been my biggest source of frustration as a critic/analyst. Back when RE6 first came out, I was still heavy in the dwrp scene, and I played through the game with my buddy Seiko (who RPed the Chris to my Leon, at the time) and I just remember both of us at varying points being like "what the fuck is he doing??" "why is he so fucking stupid?? it's like he took all of Chris's stupid pills and he's like 'no it's my turn to give myself brain damage you already had your fun. B('"

And when we first beat Leon's campaign I just dropped my controller and leaned back and said, "Well. I guess Leon just became unplayable. So much for that shit. There goes five years of RP down the fuckin toilet. Thanks for nothing, Capcom." And Seiko had to be like "No, wait, hold on. We can figure this out." And eventually she was the one who finally realized and said: "It felt like his whole campaign was a cry for help."

And I have been trying to make that work ever since -- because it is the only way to make his character make sense, after a certain point.

It actually took me the better part of two years to fully form and crystallize my analysis of "Leon projects most of his trauma onto Ada because she's familiar and convenient -- and also it's a bit of sunk cost fallacy because he wasted so much of his life trying to chase her down, so he's forced to create and live in this delusion where he's convinced himself that she's working towards the greater good, even though he has absolutely no intellectual reason to think that considering the men she's worked for -- but he still has to force himself to buy into it because his entire sense of self has become wrapped up in all of this bullshit, and for him to confront and admit that he's been wrong about her all this time would literally cause his worldview to shatter and his mental health to completely unravel into nothing."

Because RE6, as it exists, is fucking nonsense. I already thought RE4 was pushing it, because I don't know how Leon could just... be okay with Ada working for Wesker. The only explanation is that he's become convinced that she's doing it for a good reason and is going to do the right thing -- even though he has absolutely no evidence for thinking that. A delusion is the only way for it to make sense, and RE6 kicks that into overdrive.

If you were to look at Leon and Ada's relationship and call it for what it was, the very uncomfortable truth that would shake out is that Leon himself is probably one of the greatest assets contributing to the perpetuation of bioterrorism research. He not just aids the US government in their cover-up stories and cleans up their messes for them, but he also actively aids Ada's efforts while she's working for guys like Albert goddamn Wesker.

If you look at it from that perspective, the grim reality is that the world might objectively be better off if Leon was to step down from his position, withdraw from the battlefield, or even off himself like he's always wanted to. He's not just a useful idiot like Chris was for the BSAA -- he is actively part of the problem.

And there's some part of Leon that knows that. But it goes against everything he claims to stand for.

And so, the only way to make sense of his actions is the explanation that his entire sense of self is wrapped up in this, and he's too deep in that hole to dig his way out now. He's aware, on some level, of the cognitive dissonance that's happening, and that's why he drinks.

So, it is very interesting to me that Ada has been MIA from the OG timeline since 6, and that Vendetta and Death Island made the move to have Chris and Jill officially move in as Leon's support system, when he didn't have one previously -- because, with the proper support system in place, it's possible that he can dig his way out of this hole.

But what will that mean for his relationship with Ada?

And so we look at the Remake series and see the foundation it's been laying...

And suddenly the horizon starts to look very, very dark for Aeon as a ship.

[snarkylinda]

I should be studying, showering, sleeping, doing literally anything else but instead, I am going to do a long post about a mentally ill blorbo because I am mentally ill myself.

SO! We all make fun of Spencer let me take my vest off and lower my gun for no reason Reid, it's a meme at this point- but that....tendency is a consequence of what I find the most fascinating about his character as a whole....his relationships- or more like, the relationships he makes up in his head.

Before I go into details I want to leave something very clear that anyone that has seen even one season of the funny cop show has noticed: Spencer is highly obsessive.

Now I am not talking about his fun little facts or that he likes star streak and doctor who obsession- those are hyperfixations, and even tho MY hyperfixation it's ruining my life, his are actually harmless and overall make him happy.

His obsessive nature had almost cost him his career, if not his life, multiple times.

If you stop to think about it in depth, why does Reid abandon all common sense when it comes to certain UnSubs, certain cases? well the most evident answer is that he projects whatever trauma of the week they decide to explore onto them- and yes, that is the nick of things. He pulled that stunt on Elephant's memory because he related to Owen's harassment story, he wanted to help Nathan because he understood being afraid of your own mind turning against you, he wanted to help Adam because he couldn't save Tobias. You get the drill- but....that is not always the case.

With the guy that Lindsey's dad murdered- Spencer didn't relate to him, he was just a piece of shit. How about Samantha? (I know there is a theory about William....doing shit to Reid when he was younger and while I can see it, for the sake of argument I will take her case into consideration) The father of the victim on "Identity"? I can name another example but this one I am going to save for last since it's the reason for me making this post-

And one can argue "Well, he is just a really nice guy" and while that is true- what I named before doesn't always apply, Spencer's compassion has a very clear, marked limit.

His relationships.

When Cyrus was killed in front of him by Morgan, Reid barely blinked- hell, he fucking SASSED him. Why? because he hurt Emily.

All sympathy he could have had for Cat before she ruined his life DESPITE kind of empathizing with her story based on what HE was going through went out of the window because she and her lil gang terrorized Penelope for months.

He felt compassion for Adam, but not for his father who he claimed was the true monster of this story in the aftermath.

When Maeve told her her ex was dead, he quickly brushed that aside to ask her if SHE was alright.

And ofc, we all know what happened in prison after his friend there was murdered.

Reid is often associated with UnSubs not only because of how his backstory aligned with their motivations (mental health issues, bullying, absent parent, losing a loved one) but because most of these crimes are passional responses- and Spencer can be extremely passional, to a point where it clouds his judgment.

Now...you might be thinking "ok that is all nice and good, but where does the obsession come into play? all that I know is that he is a cinnamon roll that loves his friends and has some really deep projection issues he really needs to work on" and you are not wrong, but what made me make this fucking thesis in the first place its something else....one of my favorite things to analyze about fictional characters in this kind of setting it's "the needs of one vs the greater good" thing.

Now let's be fr, we all as human beings will always, ALWAYS prioritize those close to us over literal strangers. Even among the best, most empathic people that is just how it is, that emotional hierarchy will always be there- what differentiates us is how much it affects our actions.

Now with a job like this, there will always be this conflict among the menbers- obviously, their families and even each other will always be a priority, but on working hours their focus HAS to be on doing their job, following the rules and just being as professional as humanly possible- even tho it sometimes kills them inside since it just doesn't feels right.

Reid actually doesn't face this debate that much- because all common sense, respect for authority and protocol goes out of the fucking window whenever he obsesses over a new blorbo lmao.

Had you heard the phrase "One death is a tragedy, a hundred is a statistic"? nothing rings more true that with Dr. Reid right here. He is able to keep his cool while touching mangled corpses and discussing all the shit that happened to them- occasionally looking horrified if it's messed up enough, but other than that he is able to keep the same level of professionalism and compartmentalization as his co-workers.

Annnnnnd then he gets to know a victim, a witness, or an unsub and the vest leaves his torso, his gun folds itself and his IQ lowers. Alot.

Let's get back to the example I put of the guy that was murdered by Lindsey's dad- in that moment he wasn't a murderer to Reid, in that moment all he saw was a teenager begging for his life and HE could be the only to save him- he couldn't. He obsessed over that instead of what the guy did and that lead him to desire to insert Diluid inside of him after 10 months of sobriety, not to mention being A BIG factor in what he does on Elephant's Memory.

"I thought I could save this one" was his response when Hotch scolded him.

Spencer literally can't forget shit. So he tries to make sure that when he knows someone, even if is on a dying moment like the mentioned UnSub, he can save them. He forms some kind of bond with someone and they stop being an face and a name adhered to his board that he is determined to save/get justice for because is his literal job and he is overall a good person. In his mind, it becomes his responsibility whenever that person it's saved, and when that crosses over obsessive territory and his job, that makes it mandatory to always put the need of the many vs the one (especially if it's an unsub) well....

It's when he spiral and puts his career/the case in jeopardy at best, and his life at worst, no to mention what that shit does to his already questionable mental health.

In the second ep of the tenth season, Reid confesses to Morgan that after killing the LDSK, it suddenly hit him and he obsessed over all the "what ifs", at that moment that guy wasn't the LDSK that almost got him, his boss and a hospital full of mortal hostages in danger- he was the man that Spencer Reid killed- and it only ended when he stopped obsessed over HIM and started to put his victim's faces on his wall, forcing his focus on them instead.

He was more focused on the father of the victim on "identity" than the actual unsub himself because years before he had stopped him from seeing his daughter, and had made enough of an impact to be remembered by him in the present. Thanks to that bond, that little relationship, Spencer was able to put himself between a highly emotional distraught father's gun and the man he wanted to kill, to protect him.

He didn't get to personally know Samantha until the end- but he got to meet the scumbag that raped her. Add that to the already soft spot he has for children and you have a very angry Reid ready to do literally anything to make sure this woman that didn't even knew him was safe.

And ironically enough, what prompt me to do this thesis wasn't even one of those nice touchy feeling moments Spencer had with someone he bonded over- either personally or on a parasocial level- but one where he was wrong, but was about to risk a whole case over it. Rock Creek Park.

In that episode, Spencer and this other girl are keeping watch over this mafia thing so this politician guy's wife cane come back (as you can see I pay attention to certain scenes more that others lmao) and you can see the exact moment where the mission....stops being Spencer's priority.

After hearing this girl's conversation with her mother, she stopped being "the maid" and became someone Spencer's "knows" and so this leads to....this

....why did I bother with that text block when this scene spills it out- Anyways.

I dunno why but Rossi's reaction always sends me to the stratosphere- he knows.

Anyways, turns out that the helpless maid was actually on it all along and Reid almost throws the entire case off over nothing- *slows clap*

Ok ok, this might seem like I am slandering my boy but as fun as it is to make fun of him, this is exactly why I love him. This recklessness as a result of tunnel vision it's....concerning considering his line of work, and his eagerness to go far and beyond for someone he barely knows just because he knows them, above everything else and he is there, and can't bare the thought of not doing anything for them., to have their death's imprinted on his memory.

In conclusion- he ain't lawful good/neutral like the first few episodes want to make you think, he is chaotic good. And a mess. And I love him.

[tiifalockhart]

End of the F**king World

Pairing: Sephiroth/Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: major character death, implications of stalker behavior, mentions of torture, mentions of insanity, portrayal of mental illness, end of the world, anxiety, depression, alludes to suicide

A/N: this wasn’t a request, however, this idea had been on my mind for quite awhile. with lots of motivation, i finally put it into words. please keep in mind that there are huge trigger warnings for this content, since it is probably the most angsty and intense thing i’ve written on this blog!! i hope you enjoy reading, feedback is greatly appreciated

Ao3 || Masterlist 

After it all had fallen apart, there was nothing left to hope for. 

Genesis was gone, Angeal was dead, Zack was dead, Sephiroth was... Dead? His body was found deep inside the destroyed Nibleheim reactor, so it was possible that Sephiroth was dead, right? But...

You aren’t supposed to see dead people.

So why was it that Sephiroth was constantly following you around? Why was he silently watching you at all times? No matter where you looked, he was there. It was chilling to see his cat-like mako eyes pierce into your skull. His twisted smirk made your stomach churn and want to run away as fast as you could, but there was no where to run. He was always with you. Whether you wanted him or not, it seemed like you didn’t have a choice. 

What did you do to earn such a strange connection to the dead? 

That’s right... In Nibleheim, you were there. You were one of the sole survivors that witnessed it all. The roaring flames, the deafening screams and cries of dying people, the sound of buildings collapsing and blades crashing against one another, you relived it every time you closed your eyes. 

Sephiroth sought out to kill you, even though you were a simple bystander. But... That wasn’t the complete truth, was it? You were more important than anyone else at Nibleheim. That’s why he came after you, right? Think of it as... Young love, a childhood best friend, his only friend, that’s what you were. That is, until you mysteriously disappeared and left him all alone. You were taken far away from Shinra after being deemed as... “Intruding.” You and Sephiroth were just children, you didn’t understand the world. You always thought wishfully because even as a child, you knew that Sephiroth didn’t belong in a laboratory twenty-four-seven. You put all of these ideas of “running away” or “sneaking out” into his head. He became obsessed with the idea for the longest time. He wanted to run away, he wanted to experience this life that you mentioned so many times, he wanted to experience normalcy. 

When Hojo caught wind of this... Disobedience, he sent you and your family far away. He sent you as far away as he could. Your father began to work at the Nibleheim Mansion as a book keeper as punishment for your indiscipline. Sephiroth felt betrayed by your disappearance. He blamed you for the punishments he received for wanting to escape. He blamed you for leaving him alone to deal with it. He never forgot about it, instead he bottled it up and chalked it up to some kind of cruel training he had to go to. 

As he grew up, those thoughts bothered him less and less. He figured he would never have to see you again, therefore he would never have to face that trauma again. Instead of coping with it, he pushed it away to the deepest place he could and tried to forget about it. But as things around him began to crumble, all of his past traumas began to surface again. Genesis ended up leaving him, so did Angeal. His two friends, his only friends since you, ended up leaving him. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it? 

Surprisingly, it didn’t take long for him to snap. The moment he knew he was being sent to Nibleheim for a mission, dread began to build up inside of him. As if it were a sixth sense, he knew something was going to happen here. He made sure to keep his guard up as they arrived at Nibleheim, who knew what was going to happen?

What he didn’t expect, though, was that the threat he was dreading would end up being himself. Dealing with the loss of his two friends was enough, but he never expected having to face you after all those years. You looked exactly the same from when you were a child. Sephiroth knew who you were in an instance when he saw you in that village. He knew that he couldn’t stay. He had to run from you, he had to run, he had to. He avoided you like the plague, unwilling to unpack the bottled-up regret and anger he held for you. His mind couldn’t stop wandering to his childhood with you, he began to question everything. Why were you here in Nibleheim? Why did you leave him? Why was he punished because of you? Why did Genesis and Angeal have to leave, too? He felt sick, he felt weak and dizzy, nothing was making sense anymore. 

That was just the tip of the iceberg, though. 

The moment his eyes landed on those monsters in the reactor, he felt something inside of him shatter. He needed answers. He needed anything. 

He needed something. 

Something to grip onto.

He was losing his mind. 

What was reality? What was real and what was fake? 

He couldn’t hear himself over his own thoughts anymore. He was descending into madness. He couldn’t stop himself from wandering into that library. It was similar to a deep, primal instinct. It felt like he was hunting for prey. But there was no prey. He was hunting for... Nothing? It didn’t make sense, nothing made sense anymore. The voices of concern were drowned out by his mind screaming at him. His mind told him that he couldn’t eat or sleep until he had answers. Who was he? Who were his parents? Why did he want to escape? What are these voices in his head? 

He paced back and forth until his legs were numb, his fingers frantically flipped through the pages of those books, his heart pounded in his chest to the point where it was deafening. He was terrified for the first time in his life. But it wasn’t because of some foe he had to face. No... 

He was terrified of himself. 

That’s when he stumbled upon the documents named ‘Project S.’ His fingers trembled as his eyes scanned the pages. His arms grew weak, he couldn’t stand anymore and ended up collapsing against the wall. He slid down the wall slowly as he took in every bit of information. 

He was... A monster? 

No.

He was an Ancient...

He was a God.

This was his world. 

It all belonged to him.

He was betrayed by everyone. He was treated like an experiment on his own Earth. He was destroyed and numbed to the cruelties of this Earth, used by simple humans for their own bidding. He was dumbed down to a puppet. Everyone else had to have known, right? His mother was Jenova... The J.E.N.O.V.A.? They lied to him. How could they all keep this from him..? His own friends, his mentors and companions? Why did they... It didn’t make sense. Even Zack hid all of this from him... His last friend...

It all started with the books. 

Sephiroth burned them all. He was caught up in a fit of rage. He was betrayed by everyone. Everyone he’s come to know has known what he is, but decided to hide it. His entire existence was a lie. It was all fabricated from birth. How many people knew besides the scientists? The people he laid down his life for ended up betraying him. He would never forgive the human race for what they’ve done.

Before he knew it, the entire village was in flames. Overcome with rage, Sephiroth decided he was personally going to rip the world apart. Everyone would suffer because of what they’ve done to him. There was no room for negotiation anymore, they lost that privilege many years ago. 

During this fit of rage, Sephiroth’s eyes managed to land on you. This was where it all started, wasn’t it? You could have saved him, you could have told him the truth. You knew what he was, but you participated in treating him like... Like some lab rat. You lied, and you were just as guilty as everyone else. 

He couldn’t stop himself from raising Masamune over his head. His vision was red with anger, he was no longer thinking for himself. His mind screamed at him. This is what they wanted, wasn’t it? A truly powerful being... 

He’d show you what power really looks like. 

It was all your fault. 

How you managed to escape was a mystery to all. How Sephiroth was still alive was a mystery to you. You couldn’t wrap your head around it. 

You remembered that day very clearly. You hadn’t even known Sephiroth was in Nibleheim. You didn’t know that he still remembered you. You didn’t know that you planted the seed for his inevitable mental break. 

Now, you were cursed with a daily reminder. His eyes would never leave you for as long as you lived. You assumed the same fate followed you into the Lifestream. 

The day of the Nibleheim Incident, you took off into hiding immediately. You couldn’t face the guilt that possessed you. You could still clearly hear the pain in Sephiroth’s cries as he stood over you. “You took everything from me!” It played in your mind on repeat. He died knowing that it was all your fault this happened. His last few words would be permanently ingrained into your brain. You slightly wished that he had just finished the job in Nibleheim... But you somewhat convinced yourself that that wasn’t his intention. 

Now that he was staring you in the face, you couldn’t believe that he intended for you to die in Nibleheim. He fully intended on you living with your sins and carrying that burden until the end of your time. 

It’s been months now since his first appearance. You remembered when you first saw him after Nibleheim many months ago. You were making your morning deliveries, casually walking around the Sector 5 slums. You approaching the small orphanage located at the top of the slums, ready to face the children when you suddenly stopped in your tracks. Your eyes had been focused on the ground as you walked, so when you saw black boots suddenly appear in your vision, a confused expression formed on your features. You slowly lifted your head to look up at the mysterious figure, only to let out a blood-curdling scream and fall back. 

In front of you stood the silver-haired SOLDIER, he wore a twisted and sickening smirk, his eyes held a glint of... Desire. His left hand tightened around the hilt of his blade as he stared down at you. Fear consumed you as you prepared to finally die, your eyes squeezing tight as your hands came to cover your head. 

When nothing happened, you slowly lifted your head again to see everyone around you staring at you in confusion. Sephiroth was gone as if he completely vanished into thin-air. The ladies working at the orphanage stared at you, fear evident in their eyes. They held the children back from approaching you, as if you were the one to be feared.

No one else had seen Sephiroth. 

You were the only one. 

You quickly got up, not bothering to dust yourself off or gather your things, before taking off to your small shack. Surely, it was part of your imagination. People have mentioned having hallucinations and stuff, maybe that’s what happened. You tried to think it through logically as you splashed cold water on your face. When you lifted your head again, you felt his presence in the back of the room. 

“Why are you here?” You asked, your voice shaking as you turned towards him. He was leaning against the wall casually, his smirk still present. Instead of answering you, he simply looked in your direction before walking further into the house. His gaze sent chills down your spine. What kind of desire is he holding inside? 

Life went on like that for months. Eventually, you were forced to grow used to his presence, no matter how oppressive it was. He would follow you anywhere, basically. He hardly said anything, if he did, it was probably something obscure and ominous. Eventually, you began to talk to him more, finding it unreasonably hard to cope with what life has become. You were never sure if he was listening or not, but deep down inside, you kind of hoped. 

You were never sure what Sephiroth was intending to get out of spending all of his time with you. It kind of made you anxious, knowing that you had some... Purpose to him, something that made you special from everyone else. Even through the hard times like the fall of Sector 7, he hardly ever left your side. 

There was one night where you felt particularly lonely. Sephiroth seemed to be gone, no where to be found. It was odd, even if you were his sworn enemy, you still found yourself concerned if he wasn’t around. That night, to somehow distract yourself, you wandered out into the Sector 5 slums, hoping to cope with the suffocating loneliness. That’s when you heard the news channel booming from the monitor at the center of the town. You approached the crowd quietly, feeling your heart drop at the announcements. 

President Shinra was dead. They claimed it was from Avalanche, but you knew better than that. From behind you, you heard his chilling voice. 

“You agree that he deserved it, don’t you?” Sephiroth asked, his voice low. It sounded like just a whisper in your ear. The question was odd... He wasn’t asking for your opinion, instead he was asking which side you were on. 

President Shinra did deserve it, though, didn’t he? While you would never wish death upon someone, it was undeniable how terrible of a man the President was. You could only respond with a weak nod of your head, feeling too repulsed to give him anything more. 

You moved to take off back to your home, only to feel the burning sensation of his gloved hand wrapped around your forearm. “The end is nigh... Who’s side will you be on?” He questioned. You forced yourself to look back at him. 

“What end?” You asked, your voice shaking as you spoke. Sephiroth didn’t give you an answer, instead he let go and slowly backed into the shadows, leaving you alone once again. 

What end was he talking about? ...End of the world? No, he doesn’t have that kind of power, does he? Honestly, you weren’t sure what Sephiroth was capable of in this form. He was powerful before he died, but what is he capable of now that he is dead?

You wouldn’t know his true power until it came to you in dreams. Since President Shinra’s death, and your odd conversation with Sephiroth that night, you had been having weird dreams. They weren’t the kind of weird that you forget in an instance of waking up, no... These dreams were visions. They were of what was to come. You saw visions of people you didn’t know dying, you saw a giant star in the sky slowly closing in on the Midgar tower, you saw visions of the Lifestream erupting from the ground... They had to have been connected, didn’t they? 

Sephiroth was no longer around for you to question him. It’s like he suddenly vanished, like he never existed after Nibleheim. Had you imagined it all up? It was getting hard to tell. You couldn’t bring yourself to search for him. You didn’t want to see him anymore. Truthfully, you wished you had never seen him in the first place. 

It seemed like months had passed since then. You were really keeping track of time anymore, honestly. Things began to change in the world around you, though. Above you, in the sky, a meteor pushed against the atmosphere of the world. Everyone else was terrified of it, but... You honestly couldn’t say that you were afraid of it anymore. After months of visions, you saw it coming. 

This was the end that Sephiroth was talking about, wasn’t it? 

The end of his torment.

The end of the human race.

The end of the fucking world. 

You hated him for it. There was no one that could stop him... He knew that, everyone seemed to know it except for the innocent lives. You heard the daily questions from bystanders.

“Why is this happening?”

“Are we all going to die?”

“There is nothing we can do to stop it, is there?”

Humanity’s downfall rested in the palms of a revenge-stricken God, and there was nothing that could be done about it.

By now, you had already accepted death. It was inevitable at this point. The fates of everyone were completely compromised at this point, death stared everyone in the face. It was only a matter of time until the Meteor made contact with the Earth. 

You remembered when the evacuation of Midgar began. Every single person was forced onto trains, cars, buses, whatever mode of transportation was available in poor attempts to escape fate. You watched from the window as the bus drove away, your eyes glued to the Meteor. Only a few days from then...

Those next few days were absolute torture. The entire world played a waiting game. There was really nothing to do to prepare for impact. Any preparations would be futile. In the end, there seemed to be a collective loss of morale. 

This was the end.

Just a few hours before the Meteor struck, you remembered hearing that familiar unsettling voice. “What a beautiful creation.” Sephiroth commented, his eyes fixated on the star. You looked up at him, your burning gaze quickly turning into one of shock. He stood next to you, blood decorating his face and suit. 

“What happened to you?” You asked softly, your brows furrowing slightly in concern. As much as you hated to admit it, you still cared for him. 

He shook his head slowly. “I...” He hesitated, seeming to return to his old self for just a moment. He slowly turned towards you, regaining that twisted look. “Will never be a memory.” He hissed, before completely dissipating in front of you. 

Below you, the ground began to shake. Your eyes shot up to the Meteor, expecting to see Midgar destroyed by now, but to your surprise, streams of green were fighting it off. There were screams coming from the people around you, they all cheered on the Lifestream. You couldn’t bring yourself to cheer though. This was fate, wasn’t it? You found yourself strangely conflicted. 

In the end, the Meteor ended up being destroyed before it could even touch Midgar. You watched as the Meteor disintegrated into small rocks. The population around you cheered unendingly, thanking the Gods for survival. You found yourself unsure. You survived, but at what cost? This battle with Sephiroth isn’t over... You knew that deep down. A quiet sigh left your lips as you turned away from the celebrating crowds, finding it hard to relate. 

This wasn’t the end, after all. 

[mangodestroyer]

Yeah, I'm not really so fond of torture porn either. It can be pretty tasteless. Now, I'm not really one who likes to judge an author based on what they write. I hate it when people try to censor people's art (even if it can be very, VERY questionable or uncomfortable to observe). But there have been times when I've read or watched something and it just genuinely seemed like who ever was working with the character they were torturing didn't see any humanity in them. Just saw them as an object or a nuisance. Got off on the excessive suffering. It does make me wonder if, irl, they're the power tripping manager who likes to make their employees miserable just because they're "beneath" them. Or if they start treating someone close to them like shit because they are "weak" and "deserve it", but also do it because they see other people as a threat in general. After all, people with sadistic-dominance tendencies do exist... On the other hand, it could just be a vent for their own problems. Idk.

Also, I remember reading somewhere that stories are an outlet to help us work through irl anxieties and problems we're dealing within a safe setting. Victims of trauma who use stories as escapism recover from whatever traumatized them more effectively. So from a scientific standpoint, it would just make sense that we want our protagonists to have a fighting chance.

I used to be able to write stories that were more light-hearted. Unfortunately, I think I understand why that is not currently the case. My later teen years and young adulthood have been rough. So, no. I was kind of joke-lamenting about not understanding why I have these dark fantasy ideas atm.

Truth be told, I'm fully aware that I'm just projecting my trauma onto Crowley. For a while now, my mind has been stuck on some of the traumatizing things that have happened to me. I come from family dysfunction and already talked about the excessive emotional abuse I dealt with growing up on my blog. I also have to deal with a family who just doesn't have it together in general. The fact that my mother was just cold toward me growing up. Coped with a sibling who just wrote me off out of nowhere and realized at a young age that they just don't love me. Tried too hard to come to others outside of the family for comfort. Realize now what I was doing and how that led to so many more problems. LOTS of unhealthy friendships/a toxic relationship. People acting like they were accepting and "safe" at first, while slowly becoming more abusive. Now realize I may have almost gotten myself into some dangerous situations because I had no boundaries. And just got away out of luck. Also just had such a hard time coping with how messed up humanity can sometimes be (because of personal experience and from studying history/the fucked up things happening in our world rn).

So, yeah. I just feel like writing stories about a loss of innocence and feeling betrayed/struggling to find trust again. It feels worse than grief because you can at least appreciate the good times/having ever had them around at all when you lose someone you love. With betrayal, you're grieving a person who never existed, so it never really felt like there were good times/you start to question why you fell for it/enjoyed it in the first place.

And then there's also that ick you get with yourself when you realize how damaged and different you are when you just weren't raised. That you aren't a functional adult and are behind on mile stones. You constantly feel like the people around you can just TELL. You feel like a stray cat. Something to pity but also something no one wants to deal with. You want to look out for yourself and put up strong boundaries/act selfish for self-preservation, but you sometimes worry that you're toxic and are becoming like your abusers. I imagine that's what it feels like to become a demon. Demons are just chaotic energy in a world that prefers order. They seem abrasive by default.

Sorry for going on a tangent. Like I said, I've been very passionate about these story ideas. I just really want to make my favs deal with some nasty ass, scummy villains. Find happiness despite that shit.

I wouldn't worry too much about it. If you feel like writing about it, then go for it! You don't need to deal with a character's EXACT traumas in order to write about them. And no, a story doesn't need to be light-hearted for people to like it either. I would actually say that it's better to just write the kind of story you feel like atm. You might be channeling something into it whether you're aware of it or not, so it would just be a little awkward to write about something fun and humorous if you're not up for it. Even if it seems like it'd be so much easier.

You could also just try writing an outline for the story/just letting it bake in your head for a bit. You might find, after doing this for a while, that it will become a very different, but more pleasing story. With a familiar premise. Doing this might also help you get over some troublesome plotlines/flaws that are giving you hang ups.

Just so you know, neither of my two story ideas that I talked about are even close to being the same stories I originally thought up. One started with Crowley being a human who lived recklessly because he has issues, and died because of his nature. And ended up becoming a demon that way. And it was a modern AU. Well... it's no longer a modern AU. And now he was never a human and was just an angel to begin with. I'm also so relieved that he is no longer being reborn as a demon who serves a human cult because at the time, I thought that was cool, but now I hate that idea and think it's weird (and I mean, it really did just keep going down weird roads, which is why I scrapped it). Also, the way Crowley died and the resulting trauma was... probably a realistic way he would die as a human, but was also just too disturbing. Well... dying is a disturbing concept in general, and so is randomly waking up as a demon in a cult when you didn't know that was going to be your after life. And also... there were too many convoluted rules with the world building and this whole society that... bleh! Again. It just kept going down weird roads.

Now? He's just exploring how other celestial beings experience religion and navigate the world. And yes, he still sometimes engages with humans, but it's almost like they don't live in the same world as him. And I won't go too much further into it because I still need to write about it, but yeah, it's a better story now imo.

Maybe just give it some thought. Maybe your story just isn't ready yet. I mean, it could also just be that you need to write it because you're just feeling nervous and need to overcome that. And if it's not that, then maybe there is something you're having a serious hang up with. Try not to feel too bad if it turns out that a big chunk of your story needs to change. It really isn't a big deal. Writers do this all the time. It used to be a huge hang up for me. I used to be much more rigid about keeping a story more like how I originally thought it up and was afraid the story was running away from me if I changed it too much. It took some practice to become more open minded to other possibilities. And some bitter acceptance that these realizations can happen after writing out multiple chapters in your draft. Hence why you shouldn't put too much time and effort into a first draft. If you're constantly fussing over it, well, in my experience, that may be a sign that the plot isn't hitting overall and it's time to start over.

And I hope this doesn't come off as condescending/unsolicited writing advice. This is genuinely stuff that helps me with writing hang ups. I wish you luck in getting into your groove!

Me (after finishing my first fic) : wow that was really ambitious in the story it told and I’m SUPER proud of it. But for the next project let’s do maybe some one shots, some cozy south-downsy type fluff where I can really focus on the writing.

My brain: what about an AU with TIME TRAVEL!?!?

Me: why are you like this?

[ttttaehyungie]

masked | myg x reader

masked | min yoongi x reader oneshot

☘  pairing | min yoongi x vigilante superhero!reader ☘  genre | college au, superhero au, humor, romance ☘  rating | NC-17 ☘  word count | 5.2k ☘  warnings | swear words, major violence/fight scenes, some childhood trauma, sexual humor (it’s like,,, one word but i’ll just tag it anyway) ☘  summary | Between academics in the day and crime-fighting at night, and your dumb rivalry with that one pain-in-the-ass, fellow vigilante Vulture, you simply don’t have time for dating. But, damn, is it hard when your partner for project work is as cute as he is. ☘  a/n | y’aaallllll this was so enjoyable to write :’) I hope you all have as much fun reading as I did writing this!

Submitted as part of BWC’s 1st Anniversary Contest.

A fist flies towards your face. You dodge leftwards. You grab the hooligan’s arm where it lingers in the air from the failed punch. Twist. He yelps. But you show no mercy. You hold tight to his arm and spin sharply on your feet. Using the momentum from your movement, you throw him over your shoulder. Thud.

He’s dazed. You seize the chance to kick him over onto his front. Locking his arms behind him, you pin him down with a knee as you fumble around in your backpack for the ropes to bind him.

A giddy excitement bubbles up, effervescent in your chest. Finally! After weeks of failed attempts, you’re so close to a solid capture. It’s just a pickpocket; small fry, really. But it’s a capture nonetheless.

Just as long as- you peek upwards to check- ok. It seems you’re in the clear. Vulture isn’t here. Wait-

Something rustles to your right. You jump in shock.

The thug takes advantage of the shift in your weight. He wrestles his arms free and pushes himself up, and you go tumbling off him. Before you can recover, he’s already sprinting off into the distance. No! He’s getting away!

In panicked desperation, you raise a hand and shoot out a force field. Dumb move. It only boosts him forward, aiding his escape. Ugh. Your victory slips like sand through your fingers.

Crack. A flash of blue pops into the middle of the street.

You roll your eyes. Part of you is relieved that the thief is not getting away. But for the most part? Unbridled annoyance.

You slump back on the ground to watch Vulture teleport in, capture the thief that you’d spent the last twenty minutes pursuing, and teleport out. All under two minutes.

Just as he’s been doing for the last few weeks. Damn. When will you ever catch a break?

“Rough night?”

Seems like your stifled yawn was not concealed well enough. Feeling slightly self-conscious, you shoot him a sheepish smile.

“Yeah. Busy fighting those assignments, y’know.”

He hums in understanding. “Let’s take a five minute break. I’m getting tired too.”

You nod. Yoongi stretches his arms out above his head and leans to the side to get in a good side stretch. Meanwhile, you avert your eyes. The sliver of skin that peeks out from where his shirt rides up has your cheeks growing warm.

“I’m gonna fill my bottle,” you announce, getting up from your shared table. “Do you want anything?”

“I’m good. Thanks.”

The water fountain is just outside the library, but the short walk from the discussion pod and back is enough for you to shake off the drowsy haze you were in. By the time you return to the tiny room- they really weren’t kidding when they called it a pod- the spring is back in your step.

Yoongi looks up as you step back into the room and flashes you a smile. It’s small, but disarming as hell. Your heartbeat picks up.

“Recharged and ready to fight this project?” he jibes.

Right. The project. The project that you’re paired up for, literally for no other reason than sheer convenience. You just happened to be sitting next to each other when it was announced. But it’s fine. You’re chill, Yoongi’s chill. And that’s why you knew it was ok to just turn to him and ask, “Wanna pair up?”

The project is the only reason the two of you are talking. It’s not that you didn’t have any other opportunity to. Not at all. You’re both in the same course and you live in the same dorm.

And it’s not that you dislike the guy. In fact, far from it. If you’re being totally honest, Yoongi is 100% your type. Chill, and a laidback sense of humor with his light jokes. And not to mention, real easy on the eyes. With his platinum blonde hair- his dark roots just beginning to peek through- and striking eyes, all topped off with that heartstopping smirk of his, there is only one conclusion to be drawn. Yoongi is objectively attractive.

You’ve acknowledged this the moment you set your eyes on him at your dorm orientation tour. His blonde hair was freshly bleached at that point and pulled back in a snapback, showing off the bold, black brows that complemented his sharp, feline eyes.

It was uncontrollable. He’s just the kind of attractive that exerts a magnetic pull on your gaze, drawing you in relentlessly no matter how many times you avert your eyes.

And the kind of attractive that makes you lose track of what’s happening. You realized belatedly that you’d zoned out from the tour.

“-survival tips. Make sure you collect your laundry from the dryer promptly. One, because people who hog the machines are inconsiderate assholes. Two, because the dorm cat has a habit of stealing socks and underwear. So unless you like the idea of your unmentionables as surprise gifts for your neighbors- in which case, you’re a psychopath-, please just collect your laundry on time.”

A quick glance at the group around you confirmed that you’re not the only one bewildered by Jin’s words.

“Oh!” Jin’s voice cut through the buzz of confusion. “Just one last thing. There’s a strict no dating rule between the RA and students. I know, I know. It’s hard resisting this gorgeous face. But let’s all give it our best attempt, alright?”

You remember scoffing internally at Jin’s words. There’s just one simple rule you have for yourself in college. No dating.

Between your studies in the day and crime-fighting at night, you simply don’t have the time for it.

And it’s this same rule you have to remind yourself of as you tear your eyes away from the sight of Yoongi casually running his hand through his hair as he contemplates the project.

Just one last loop and- fuck. Did the loser call for backup? You drop the ropes to throw up a force field. The aluminum bat gets flung off into the distance, careening off your invisible force field. Thank god you heard the heavy footsteps approaching. You’ve been on the receiving end of baseball bat attacks, and let’s just say you’ve come to empathize greatly with baseballs after that experience.

You swivel to face him. Block his hook. Uppercut. The thug staggers backwards, clutching his jaw.

There’s movement in your periphery. The first guy has disentangled himself from the ropes. You spot him just as he breaks into a run. Shit. He’s escaping.

A kick lands itself in your side, sending you to the ground. Snap. A cold sense of dread fills the pit of your stomach as the visual of your wrist bent at an awkward angle registers in your mind. The tingling pain blooms as you shake it out.

But you don’t have time to take care of that right now. You’ll have to rely on the adrenaline to keep you going.

You take a second to check if your mask is still in place- alright, you’re good. Turning your attention back to the asshole that attacked you, you fix him with a glare. Before this, it was just a moral obligation to stand against lawlessness. Now, it’s personal.

You recover into a squat. Swipe a kick at his feet. He lands heavily. From his crumpled position on the ground, he makes a grab for you. But you shoot out a force field. The wind’s knocked out of him with the way he’s sandwiched between your blow and the hard asphalt.

Your kick is unnecessarily hard as you roll him onto his front. But an eye for an eye, y’know.

Learning from your earlier mistakes, you tie this one up swiftly.

“Ooh, kinky,” he mutters.

Your sharp retort sits tantalizingly on the tip of your tongue. But it’s too risky to speak. It’s far easier to get recognized by your voice than one would think. You would know. Even after over a decade, the memory of that gravelly voice still haunts you.

“I guess we’re doing this the hard way.” Smash! “I repeat. Where’s the safe?!”

No, you’ll never be able to forget it.

The thug beneath you grunts as you tug the knot extra tight. He deserves it anyway.

Now here’s the only part you hate about successful captures- lugging the offenders to the police station. It’s times like this you really wish you had a different superpower; superstrength, or superspeed, or, dare you say it, teleportation. You’ve considered using your force fields to lob the criminals forward, but all superpowers have their limits. It takes too much out of you to do that and you’ll be too drained to get back to the dorm by the end of it.

And so, with little care for how unglamorous it looks, you drag the thug all the way to the police station two blocks down.

It’s as you’re nearing the station, tasting the sweet relief of your task finally coming to an end, that you hear it- crack. The flash of blue pops up right before the station.

If it weren’t for the flash of blue and prominent crack sound, you wouldn’t have noticed him. Dressed head to toe in black- much like your own get-up-, Vulture manifests out of nowhere, together with a burly, scar-faced man. The other thug from earlier.

This is the closest you’ve been to Vulture. Before this, you’ve only ever seen him in the distance as he pops in to pick up your thugs and pops back out. But now, you’re close enough to pick up on the narrow gold trim that subtly lines his otherwise midnight black mask.

The thug in your hands groans at the sight of his accomplice having been caught. Vulture’s head whips towards you, finally alerted to your presence. Hurriedly, he drops ol’ scarface at the doorstep of the station and teleports out.

Damn, looks like you’ll be playing ding dong ditch by yourself again tonight.

Depositing the thug next to his accomplice, you thump on the door of the station twice and sprint back into the cover of the night.

The pain is truly setting in now. The adrenaline from earlier is all gone and there’s nothing sedating the pain. As if indignant from being ignored, the gnawing pain in your wrist comes biting back now with a vengeance.

But you’re already on campus grounds, so it’s just one more dash across the green, skirt stealthily around the building, up the tree to your second-storey dorm room, and you’ll be home free.

Your wrist throbs. At this point, you crave nothing more than to be showered and tucked into your bed in your jammies. Exhaustion from the entire ordeal laces your bones as you sneak your way back to the dorm.

Ok, it’s just round the corner now and- your heart leaps in your chest when you spot the shadow. Shit. In your impatience you’ve become complacent. You spin to identify the source and oh, thank god. It’s just the dorm cat skulking around in the quiet of the night.

Climbing the tree into your room has never been the easiest thing, but it’s made ten times harder with your wrist out of commission. But somehow, you manage it.

After a quick shower, you head to the shared kitchen to grab some ice for your wrist. You opt to leave the kitchen lights off, the shroud of darkness like a comforting blanket.

“Fancy seeing you awake.”

You jolt. Oh. Yoongi. You weren’t really banking on anyone else being awake.

“I could say the same to you,” you say, hand over your heart. “What are you doing up? It’s three am.”

He raises his water jug in reply. “What about you?”

“Lost track of time doing assignments,” you make up on the fly. “And then I tripped over my books in my sleepy state and busted my wrist.”

“Oh damn,” he says, hoisting himself off where he was leaning against the counter. “Can I take a look?”

His fingers are gentle as they turn your wrist to examine the damage. You try not to stare at how long and pretty they are. How is this even fair? How is it that even his fingers are attractive?

“It’s pretty swollen.” His voice is barely above a whisper. “Let me get you an ice pack.”

You don’t trust your voice, so you just nod, and move to sit.

He digs out someone’s bag of frozen peas and places it gently over your wrist where it lays on the table. The next fifteen minutes is spent in quiet conversation. Despite his quiet exterior, you discover that Yoongi is surprisingly easy to talk to. Of course, you’ve talked to him during your project meetings. But the content of your conversations then are largely restricted to the task at hand.

But here, in the midnight darkness, you find that the hushed words and laughter flow with such easy chemistry, and you desperately try not to fall any harder for him.

You take the peas- half-melted and dripping now- and dump it on the table. Wiping your wrist off on your shirt, you retrieve your bandage from your pocket and attempt to tie it yourself as Yoongi watches.

“Need help?” he offers.

“M’fine,” you reply distractedly.

“Really?”

Your family’s always lamented your obstinate nature, and you guess it’s not baseless.

Yoongi’s hand grasps yours. “Let me.”

Before your hand starts shaking from the nervous energy that’s growing in you, you let go of the bandage resignedly.

His expression is plain as he binds your wrist, as if this is a daily occurrence for him. Maybe it is. His movements look practiced, and the bandage is just tight enough that it restricts movement without cutting off blood circulation.

“You’re good at this,” you say. “Is there some secret side to you that you’re not revealing?”

He laughs a little. “I used to play basketball, and injuries were really common.”

You watch in fascination at the expert movements of his hands. Tucking the end of the bandage in, he pats your newly bandaged wrist lightly.

“All done.”

“Thanks, Yoongi.”

“Take care of yourself. I still need you alive for our project.”

Accompanying the usual morning bleariness that plagues you whenever you have just woken up, this morning it’s coupled with a dull ache in your wrist. Right. Your sprained wrist.

Shifting carefully to avoid placing any weight on your injured arm, you sit up to inspect the dressing. It’s a little mussed up, but its structural integrity is largely intact. Good, you won’t have to redo the bandaging then.

Or worse still, ask Yoongi to patch you up again.

Memories of the dimly lit kitchen come back to you, the faint glow of the corridor lights falling on the contours of his face, the high planes illuminated in an orange luminescence.

In the low light, the way his hands moved as they wrapped your wrist up wasn’t any less elegant and entrancing. The pressure that it exerted on your tender flesh was gentle, taking care not to aggravate the swollen injury.

Fuck. As if you weren’t already having a hard time holding off your feelings for him. Feelings had been bubbling up in you ever since orientation and they grew ever more persistent with each project meeting.

Why did he have to be attractive and nice? It would have been much simpler if he were just an asshole. But no, his personality just had to be as attractive as his appearance, didn’t it?

You stretch to work out the residual sleepiness, but your right rib aches in protest. Lifting your shirt and inspecting it in the mirror, a purplish bruise greets you. That sidekick really did a number on you.

Mornings like this really make you think twice about your decision to walk down the vigilante path. Mornings when the twinging pain of injuries sustained and the fatigue from having spent half the night patrolling the streets is just a little too much to bear. Mornings like this really have you wondering if you should just give it up for a normal college student’s life.

It’s truly tempting. The prospect of getting more than three hours of sleep per night is so delicious. Cuts and bruises would be a rarity. And the fluttery feeling of having a crush on a cute guy wouldn’t have to be marked as a distraction and suppressed into oblivion anymore. You want it. So much. Mornings like this, you really want to call it quits.

But your memory prevents you from doing so.

The way your mum’s hand trembled around yours as she urgently pulled you to the backroom is seared into your mind forever. Even now, your hand quivers.

Her eyes are wide with fear as she whispers, “Stay quiet.”

“The supers will be here soon, right, mum?” you ask.

“That’s right, ____.” She tucks your hair behind your ear with a shaky hand. “We just have to wait for the supers to get here.”

With that, she closes the door and the darkness envelops you. The padlock clicks just outside the door.

“Where’s the safe?” A gruff voice asks. Shivers trail down your spine.

“The cops are on their way,” you can hear your dad respond. Pride fills you at his bravery. “Look, you don’t have to do this. You can walk away right now and-”

“I guess we’re doing this the hard way.” Smash! “I repeat. Where’s the safe?!”

You can hear your mum’s pleas between hiccuped sobs.

“Well if you’re not going to tell me,” the voice continues, “I’ll just have to use brute force.”

More destruction ensues. You wince with every crash, keeping a lid on the whimpers that threaten to escape you. Where are the cops?! Where are the supers?!

“A locked door. Is that an indication of something?” The voice is close now; only the door stands between you.

Bam! The door before you rattles violently. You, too, shake in fear.

“I’ll tell you where it is!” Your dad panickedly relents. “The safe. I’ll tell you where the safe is.”

“Glad you changed your mind, old man.” The footsteps retreat.

And as you emerged from the room later that night, your nine-year-old eyes taking in the wreckage and the distinct absence of help from the police or from the supers that supposedly kept your city safe, your dreams shattered just like the glass shards that laid scattered across your parents’ store.

Ever since you discovered your powers at age five, it became your ambition to become a super. With a flashy power like yours, the chances of it happening were reasonably high.

But all that changed when your parents’ store was mugged. The supers you so admired were nowhere to be found. They were simply too busy fighting other bigger fish out there. And the police? It was a known fact that they’d gotten complacent ever since the advent of the supers.

And that left smaller stores- stores like your family’s- unprotected and susceptible to attacks by ruffian gangs that reigned in the streets. No one cares for petty crime. Not when there are bigger battles to fight out there. It was a flaw in the system.

A flaw that you aim to address through your vigilantism. What use were your flashy powers and lofty ambitions when you just remained frozen in inaction when the time calls for it? The gnawing guilt morphed into a thirst for redemption. You would become the defender of the streets.

So as lonely and draining as it is to live this life of masked identities, you can’t possibly give it up. Your conscience won’t let you.

Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to come out to the streets just days after sustaining your injury. But after icing and resting it for a day, you swear your wrist is feeling much better. Plus, you skipped your usual nightly patrols last night, but the guilt and worry had left you restlessly tossing and turning in bed. So here you are, mask on and back out on the streets.

The thug takes a swing at you. Normally you would have countered it with a block to follow quickly with a punch of your own. But with your wrist out of commission, you choose to duck down. Even your force fields would cause your wrists to absorb some impact, so the moves at your disposal are severely limited today.

You land a roundhouse kick to his side. He sputters. But he responds swiftly with a counterattack.

You’ve tried to attack mainly from your legs. Even so, your wrist feels the effects of the fight. Wrapped in its bandage, albeit sloppier than Yoongi’s expert dressing the other night but still secure enough, your sprained wrist throbs dully from the exertion.

In an attempt to soothe the ache, you roll it out- ah, the pain flares up your arm. You take deep breaths to work through the pain. You have to keep moving.

But it seems the thug has noticed your weakness. He moves quickly. Grabs your wrist and twists.

“AHHH!” The shrill scream of agony that escapes you is reflexive.

Somewhere in the midst of the white hot pain, you manage to scrape together enough sense of mind to shoot out a force field. It’s weak, and it adds yet another layer to your pain, but it’ll suffice. The thug stumbles back off-kilter.

You cradle your aggravated injury to your chest and blink back the tears. This was a bad idea. Maybe you should just give it up for tonight. It won’t be the first time a thug has gotten away, after all.

But it seems that he hasn’t had enough. He storms towards you, his face curled into a sneer.

You clench your fists. It protests in pain, but you ignore it and lower yourself into a fighting stance. You’re not sure what you can do now with the state that you’re in, but you have no choice.

Just as he picks up into a run, he’s yanked back. The immensity of the relief that washes through you as you hear that crack is so overwhelming, your legs go slightly jelly.

Vulture materializes, in his usual all-black attire, from beanie to combat boots. The gold trim of his mask glints ominously under the moonlight.

The thug takes a knee to the stomach. Vulture’s movements are so quick and sharp, the thug retches slightly. A right hook follows, without missing a beat. The thug veers to his right from its impact. But Vulture doesn’t give him an inch. He throws a left uppercut. A solid kick to the chest seamlessly completes the combo. The thug collapses in a heap on the ground.

Vulture moves like a predator on the hunt. The pace at which he stalks forward is completely unhurried. The lowlife attempts to crawl away, but he’s jerked back by the collar.

Still clutching your wrist, you watch dumbly as Vulture teleports away with the thug before you can get a word of gratitude in.

When you finally rouse from slumber the next morning, it’s from being jolted awake by the unmuffled blare of a car horn. The soundproofing in your room is shitty, but not normally this shitty. Turning to the window through which you slipped into your room last night, you realize it’s open. You were probably too tired to remember to shut it last night.

You pad over to the window, meaning to close it, when you step on something cool and smooth, but very unfamiliar. You retract your foot and look down.

Icy fear grips you. The sensation of it under your foot may have been unfamiliar, but the sight of it is definitely not. Laying on your floor is a black mask lined with gold trim.

What does this mean? Is it supposed to be a sign? Is it some sick joke? Has Vulture figured out who you are? What does he want from you?

Picking it up in your hands and skimming your thumb over the textured leather, you recall the way Vulture defended you last night. Sure, you get frustrated when he swipes your captures. But you can’t deny that, ultimately, you’re on the same side.

But having operated wordlessly all this while, and only coming in for the kill, Vulture remains an enigma. You can’t be sure of his real agenda when you’ve never fought side by side with him, let alone exchanged a word. But you can’t blame him either. You haven’t been one to break the silence either.

Perhaps you will have to now.

As it turns out, you don’t get the chance to. Break the silence, that is. For the third night in a row now, Vulture is a no show.

And for the third night in a row, the criminal gets away.

You’re tempted to blame it on your sprained wrist. But you can’t help but recall all the times thugs have slipped out of your grasp, only to be picked off by Vulture. Honestly, these last three days have you reluctantly acknowledging that your job is much harder without your silent partner.

You strain your ears in anticipation of a crack sound. But for the third night in a row, you’re left disappointed.

What’s up with all these no-shows lately?

You groan as the call gets diverted to voicemail yet again. It’s the seventh call you’ve dialled to Yoongi. Checking the time, it’s now half an hour past your agreed upon meeting time.

You slam your laptop shut. This is ridiculous. Does he think that his cute face will let him get away with everything? Just because he’s produced nothing but quality work in your pairwork so far doesn’t excuse anything.

Ok. Maybe you’re being a little harsh on him. Maybe.

But can you be blamed for being in such a crappy mood? After the shit show that was the last few nights of crime-fighting, you’re already in a foul mood. And now, hauling your sleep-deprived self out of bed and to the library at eight in the morning on a Saturday morning, only to have your partner pull a no-show? Who wouldn’t be pissed?

You shove your things into your bag and trudge back to the dorm. If you get to his room and he’s still in bed… No one can hold you responsible for what you’ll do next.

But you spot him, squatting by the shrubs that line the dorm, as you’re making your way across the green, and he’s very much awake.

You march up to him, intending to tap him on the shoulder and give him a piece of your mind.

“That damn cat,” you hear him mutter. You pause, curiosity piqued. “THIS is why dogs are man’s best friend, not cats. Holly would NEVER.”

“Looking for something?” you ask. He jumps, and turns around.

“Oh, ____,” he says, standing up from his crouched position. “Yeah, I lost something.”

“Funny, because I was looking for something too for the past-” you check your watch dramatically “- half an hour now.”

He gasps. You can pinpoint the exact moment the realization hits him. “I’m so sorry! It totally slipped my mind.”

You sigh. He’s honestly too cute. As it turns out, the answer is yes. His cute face will indeed let him get away with everything; your anger is completely diffused.

“Let’s just take a break this week,” you say.

“You don’t have to do that on my account. Just give me five minutes to grab my stuff.”

“Nah, we’ve made sufficient progress on this assignment that we’ve earned it. And you look like you’re too troubled by whatever you’ve lost anyway,” you say with a wave of your hand.

You pause, weighing your next words. But damn your soft spot for him. “Hey, do you want an extra pair of eyes to help you look?”

He considers your offer for a second. Then, hesitantly, he says, “Ok. Yeah. That’d be great actually.”

“So what are you looking for?”

He purses his lips. Did the cat really steal his underwear? Whatever he’s lost must be pretty embarrassing if it’s this hard to tell you.

Finally, he sighs and spits it out. “I know it sounds weird but I’m looking for a mask.”

You feel your jaw go slack.

“A mask?” you echo hollowly. “Like a ski mask?”

“No, um.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Y’know what, forget I said anything. I’m sure I’ll find it myself.”

He turns back to inspecting the bush. But now you have to know.

“Is it a black mask? With gold trim?”

Yoongi freezes for a second. It’s all the answer you need.

He laughs, and you can tell it’s forced. “Have you seen it?”

“No way.” It’s a mumble at first, then it all comes tumbling out of your mouth. “No way. No way! YOU’RE Vulture?!”

“Vult- What?!”

“Right. Sorry. That’s just the name I gave you because you keep swiping my thugs. And yes, I’ve seen it. Seen it every night you pop in and steal my captures.”

“Wait,” he says, his eyes growing wide as he comprehends what you’re saying. “YOU’RE that hot vigilante with the cool force fields? The one who can’t keep the thugs restrained for nuts?”

“Is that what you think of me?”

“Hey. You have no grounds to complain. Not when you call me Vulture.”

“I’m so tired,” you manage to whine through a whisper. “We bagged three criminals tonight. Can’t you just teleport us back to the dorm?”

“You know we can’t do that, love,” he whispers, rubbing your back. “My powers aren’t the most stealthy. And c’mon, we’re almost there.”

Behind your own mask, you smile contentedly. The lonely nights of crime-fighting have become not so lonely after all.

As it turns out, your synergy with Yoongi is not limited to academic work. It’s been a month now and your teamwork functions like a well-oiled machine, your force fields weakening the thugs and directing them to where Yoongi waits in the shadows to teleport them off to jail where they belong.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, barely maintaining your hushed tone. The dorm cat slinks round the corner, yanking you out of your thoughts.

“That damn cat,” Yoongi mutters.

You pinch his ear, one of the few exposed parts of his body in this attire. “If not for ‘that damn cat’, we wouldn’t have gotten together. You have much to thank this cat for.”

You can’t see it but you know that he’s rolling his eyes.

“You have no defence because you know I’m right,” you taunt.

“Fine, you are,” he says and begins to lift his mask to lean in for a kiss.

You pull it back down. “Don’t get distracted now. We can cuddle later when we’re back safe, ok?”

He huffs, but there’s a spring in his step that was not there before.

And as the two of you round the corner to clamber back up to the safety of your room, the dorm cat watches with eyes aglow in the moonlight.

Your window clicks shut. It’s safe now. Jin shape-shifts out of his cat form and smirks to himself. He still remembers the mutually stolen side glances from orientation. How could he not ship your two dorky asses?

And all the sneaking around that both of you were doing every night, unaware that you both had a masked companion in each other?

But ah, it seems that you’ve finally got your shit together. All he did was nudge you in the right direction. Looks like it worked. Mission accomplished.

[lindwyrmrelinquished]

So....what are some of your headcanons for Ranbutler?

OHHHHHHHHHH BUDDY, YOU ARE OPENING YOURSELF TO A WHOLE NEW CAN'O'BEANS HERE

OKAY SO FIRST OF ALL-

(everything else under the cut because there is a L O T )

Butler's human form is predominant(which unfortunately means he does not have a tail :(), but he can make Ender noises/speak Galactic. He's got a bunch of stims and tics, and making the Ender noises is one of them! He often makes them to fill the silence, or in times of high emotion(positive or negative. just imagine a Butler bouncing on his toes while excited Ender chirps keep coming out of his mouth, or he's rambling about something and half of it is layered with Galactic). Following from that, Butler has something that Billiam calls the "monochrome form". If he's under high levels of stress, whatever dark tint of color is in his right side will start spiking into the left side, making his skin darker(and, if he has enough color in his skin from NOT FUCKING OVERWORKING HIMSELF, it can get dark enough to blend into shadows) and spreading from the little black scales on his neck and cheeks and hands(which are already claws, that's why he wears gloves), and if he's really stressed/pissed, little horns are gonna start poking out of his skull and he's gonna be completely gray/black, his teeth are already deadly but they're gonna get sharper and if you look him in the eyes he will s c r e a m and very likely tear you apart if Billiam isn't there to hold him back/calm him down.

Speaking of! Butler very much dislikes eye contact. It makes them extremely uncomfortable and the Ender part is gonna start screaming to attack attack attack and the pupil-slit thing is gonna happen. Unfortunately, he's frozen by the eye contact and cannot move of his own free will, it's all going to be instinct to either get away or attack, if he moves at all. And the moment the eye contact is broken, he starts to calm down and all the screaming in his head starts to dissipate, so he doesn't really get the chance to consciously act on the Ender side's instinct.

NEXT OF ALL, throwing canon out the window and saying BILLIAM AND BUTLER ARE FOUND-FAMILY. The way they acted in the episode is just that, an act. In reality, they actually Care each other Very Very Much and have adopted each other into their respective hybrid groups(i.e Endermen have their hauntings, Piglins have their sounders{that part's not canon to mc but i yoinked it from a fic}). Hubert jokes about how Billiam accidentally adopted Bu as his son, but both Bu and Bi deny this. Hubert also got Liaria and James in on the joke and now these two are being constantly triple-teamed.

ON THAT NOTE Liaria and James know about the Egg. It happened at the tail end of Bu's first masquerade when they started accusing Billiam of committing all the murders, and Bu kind of panicked and outed himself as the killer, he pulled out the knife and everything. Billiam admitted that he knew about this, and showed them the Egg as explanation. Now Liaria and James willingly give up their bought lives to the Egg on the regular(we might get into the lives thing later{it was also something i yoinked from a fic, and then I gave it more explanation}) to keep Billiam and his family alive, but they're not all that affected by it due to not even being near it half the time.

AND ON THAT NOTE, let's talk about Butler's relationship with the Egg! Bad. It's bad. Absolutely terrible, the two despise each other immensely. I like to say they're the closest thing to caliginous that a teenaged hybrid that lived off spite and an ancient crimson demon can be. The Egg's hurt Bu a lot, and honestly that's part of the reason his contempt and fear for it is so high. But that's also part of the reason why Billiam was pulled out of its influence despite living right above it. Because he cares for Bu, a literal child that's suffered severe mental and physical trauma at the hands(well, vines) of the Egg. Honestly? Billiam wouldn't be the way he is now if he didn't have to take trips to the Nether. Short explanation, too much time away from their home realm gets hybrids really really sick. So, about a few months or so after Bu arrived, he had to yeet back there for a week and just told Butler and Hubert to take care of the mansion. And you know what Hubert did, that bitch? He took advantage of both Billiam's absence and Butler's skill and pampered himself while throwing the entire load onto the child. And then like halfway through the week, he got the idea to introduce said child to the Egg, who before then has had no idea it ever existed aside from the crimson red aura around the mansion(it's a whole thing about Endermen and magic but again, another thing I might get into later). He hadn't even attended a party before then. So, yeah, Hubert just left him down in one of the old cells for three days. Didn't even check on him, that bitch. And then when Billiam game back, suffice to say he was PISSED. He may be a rich bastard who causes murders biweekly, but even he has standards, and hurting a damn 7-8 year old child that bad was not one of them. he can't be held responsible for child labor, bu followed him home by his own choice. again, another whole backstory thing

Bu's genderfluid! He usually switches between he/him and they/them, and the direction he nods is a little indicator of which one(up for gender, down for no), but sometimes he uses she/her. Adding on that, due to Weird Enderman Genetics, he can manipulate his hair to grow real fast and likes to experiment with it in the mornings for Maximum Gender Euphoria This means that one day his hair could be barely touching his neck, and the next it's all the way down to his waist. It's a fun little anomaly and sometimes Billiam likes to play with it when it gets longer :3 travelling on the lgbt train, Bu is also ace/aro! This doesn't have much impact story-wise(usually), but it's just a fun little tidbit :3 On other, more Ender notes, he has pretty much all the traits an Enderman does, even if he looks fully human aside from being 6 inches taller than Sir Billiam himself. With the eye-contact thing, I've got a headcanon that Endermen can kind of read minds to an extent if they look into another entity's eyes, but it gets loud and borderline painful if anything but another Enderman does the same. Meanwhile, Bu's about the perfect mix of an Enderman and a Human(later called Players and Villagers depending on their capabilities) to be able to take at least a few seconds of eye contact. He can also teleport! To about the same extent as Endermen, if not a little less. Unfortunately, spending too much time in the void between teleportations(i.e a few hours for him, though an hour in the void is a minute in reality. It's why teleporting happens in the blink of an eye to anyone but the user) has some adverse effects. Bu's either glitched, gotten some sort of void-sickness like a flu but worse, and/or lost large chunks of memory each of the separate times he stuck himself in there for too long. Pure-blooded Endermen have a longer tolerance, but even they can succumb to the void with enough time.

Bu's also hurt by water, and the first time Billiam really figured this out is when he dragged him to the roof because it was raining and for some reason, Bi really likes the rain. Bu, on the other hand, was hospitalized for a day once Billiam actually realized, "oh, he's burning" Unfortunately, Bu can still produce tears, so he's got some scars on his cheeks and hands from those, Luckily, though! Billiam got him some gloves and a facemask reminiscent of cc!Ranboo to hide those scars because bu's. really self-conscious about them :,D

But also he's got TOE BEANS,

[ahem] So Endermen are basically giant block-holding teleporting cats and no one can convince me very much otherwise. So on the one hand, they have giant hands shaped for holding blocks. On the other hand, T O E B E A N S

So Bu's got beans on the pads of his fingers and feet(which also end in claws with a black gradient because Peak Character Design <3). Billiam likes to hold his hands on the rare occasion he doesn't wear his gloves because mans likes to stim with those toe beans. Meanwhile Billiam himself has nicely-textured hands because of his Piglin hooves and Bu also likes to stim with them, so just. them holding each others hands for mutual stimmage

[ahem] anyway

Bu stims!! He flaps his hands and does thing really rapidly and harshly when he's really high-strung, which doesn't happen often, at least in front of people. Boy's got anxiety so he's had his fair share of panic attacks :,D he just knows how to disguise them so people don't see, but Billiam knows the signs at this point. But he also has a lot of vocal stims/tics, mainly lots of Enderman noises, some popping and a little screechy thing here and there. Sometimes he picks up a sound and then repeats it a whole bunch because it feels nice on the tongue :] there's also these poofs of particles that happen when he's happy, they look like mini purple fireworks and they're like an expulsion of magic, he can feel when they happen and it feels nice :]

(cw for self-harm in this paragraph and the followed copy-pasted convo)

[ahemhemhem] So y'know how Butler's an Ender-hybrid? His hands and feet reflect that(along with the ears, the eyes, the height, the abilities, but we're talking about about the hands here). Part of why he keeps those gloves on almost 24/7 is to dull his claws, which are not so much an intentional danger to others rather than an unintentional danger to himself. He's got tics and stims and is very neurodivergent and has anxiety(me projecting? noooo /hj), so he gets very nervous very easily. And one of his nervous habits rather than wringing his hands, fidgeting, and (if really bad)a heightened amount of tics, he tends to scratch at his arms. His claws can tear through the fabric easily, and more than one or two suits have been sent back to the tailors for repairs to the sleeves. However, having both padded sleeves and padded gloves nullifies that, so he always wears them special-made. If he didn't have that habit, he likely wouldn't have the gloves on as often as he does.

Friend Hey good headcanons 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀 Also ohhhh my god Billiam fussing over him and his gloves until he gets them to be the right amount of padded where Bu can still do things but also not hurt himself

Me gbfhdgbhgsfhbgsfdhdf He keeps examining them every time the tailors try but it doesn't feel right until That Specific Try so he just plops the gloves back on the counter and says "Do it again"

Friend They spend an entire day doing nothing but making gloves while Billiam & Hubert take turns watching Butler to make sure he stays safe

Me Absolutely Problem is Butler can feel eyes on him. And eyes make him nervous :,) so when he gets nervous. he starts to scratch at his arms again and anxiety is too much for him to ask them to stop watching him

Friend It ends up with them just having to hold his hands, looking at random things (they can go sit on the balcony or something so they have something pretty to look at)

Me That hold on actually that's adorable-

Friend Fhhdjdjdjsjsj they're friends your honor

Me Absolutely Even Hubert contributes to keeping him safe. And Hubert's afraid of even being near Butler

Friend And then we get bonding via the oh no Billiam is busy and Hubert has to take care of Bu for the next 3 hours

Me GHDSFGSHFGS THAT IS A GREAT IDEA Butler insists he can do everything himself, nothing's different about the routine, and then he has a mental breakdown when he tries to make food without anyone else in the kitchen- Cause usually Hubert's there, even if he's making something else. There's at least another presence, and that's the sort of thing that's calming for Bu. But Hubert's off setting up the table for lunch/dinner or something and Butler makes One minor slip-up and spirals from there until he's struggling even handling spice mixing The same thing happened with cookies one time, and both times Hubert found him borderline unable to function because he panicked too much and helped him out of it.

Friend Butler is just curled up in the kitchen, trying to have a quiet panic attack because he can't cause the others any more trouble than he already is, and Hubert is very quietly upset about helping him because he was doing so good at avoiding Bu but here he is again being the only thing that's letting this kid breathe

Me Absolutely

Friend Do you think Bu passes out on him? Like Hubert (probably reluctantly) gives Butler a hug cause those help, and Bu was just supposed to stay there until he felt better, but panic attacks are exhausting and he fell asleep at some point-

Me Oh my gods he would though, especially with the amount of sleep he gets He'd have to try so hard to even stay conscious, much less do things in the manner he usually does, and Hubert just quietly tells him that it's okay to sleep; he'll take care of everything. Hu never forgets that of course Bu's always in danger around him - he has fleeting thoughts and quite often knows how to act on them - but he stands up holding an exhausted child and takes him to his room so he can rest. Butler may want him to stay; Endermen usually want someone around when sleeping. It's the security of having someone watch for nightmares, but Hubert doesn't stay. He has to go back to the kitchen and finish that meal Bu was making. But if he's still asleep by the time Hu's done with everything, he might linger outside his door, listening in for anything bad.

(Okay the cw is over now, you may now go back to your regularly scheduled content :,D)

Also, one last thing: Billiam gives Butler a bunch of gold things(including the masquerade mask) because that's what Piglins do with their sounders, they cover them in gold to show they care. And after Bu finding out the reason why Billiam's been handing off a bunch of gold things to him he does not cry, because that would hurt his face, but he does feel quite a lot of things that make him want to because holy shit Billiam feels the same

Butler is Billiam's sounder and Billiam is Butler's haunting, they are family your honor

[thiswasinevitableid]

.. for mermay.. 8, indruck nsfw?

Here you go! Duck’s design is based on a rudderfish.

Authors note: since prompt 8 is “drunk,” drinking is mentioned in this. It’s also implied Indrid is doing some self-destructive behaviors to cope with trauma.

The party is a splendid success, as was the book launch that preceded it. Indrid has done what he does best, lined his pockets and those of his agents and editors, and gotten everyone talking. 

“Did you see the one of the pyres?”

“The one of the hurricane aftermath, the look in the girls eyes is so haunting.”

“Personally, I found the jeweled mummies a bit much, but the emergency room shots? Stunning.”

This is why Indrid is sitting on the rocks on his private cove, and will not be going back up to the house until he’s polished off all three of these heavily spiked bottles of eggnog. It’s better than the time he emptied most of a bottle of vanilla vodka, but not by much. 

He was tipsy when he snuck out the back door and down the path to the sea. So when the empty bottle rolls away, all he can do is whap at the air close to it and wave as it plonks into the water.

“Oops. Hic, oh, hic, well, what’s one more piece of trash in, hic, a dying world?”

He yelps, knocking his remaining bottles into the sand as the lost one flies through the air towards him. Or he thinks that’s the trajectory; it’s hard to tell. The point is, the bottle is back and he’s clutching his chest like an old man in a silent movie.

“Look, man, I know it’s temptin to just leave trash everywhere, but there are signs up and down this beach sayin not to litter.” A man floats in the water at the foot of the rock, black hair plastered to his forehead and muscular arms crossed over a bare chest. 

“It, hic, it was an accident. And I am, hic, in no condition to retrieve anything from the water.”

The man frowns, “shit, if you’re that drunk, you oughta get off the rocks. It’s deep here, you might drown. Go sit on the sand, it’s safer. Warmer too, still holdin heat from the sun.”

“I, I’m fine, hic, don’t, don’t need some wet man babying me.” He stands to prove his point, nearly falls face first into the water, and sits back down, “see, m’fine.”

“Get off the rock.” The man says, sounding for all the world like a cat owner two seconds from grabbing the spray bottle. 

“No.” Indrid huffs. 

Water splashes his face and he sputters.

The man pulls his hand back, preparing to send another wave at him, “Get.”

“Fuck you” 

The splash is much more intense this time and he curses, scrambles sideways, and falls to his knees in the sand. 

“That’s better, now I don’t gotta worry about fishin your careless ass outta the water.”

“If, if we are, hic, t-talking careless, you, you shouldn’t say a thing. You’re, hic, swimming in cold water with, without a wetsuit.”

The man shrugs, “Don’t need one.” With that he floats on his back, bringing a dark-scaled tail into view. 

“You’re, hic, you’re a merman.” He crawls forward, breathless, “that’s so cool, wanna, gotta photograph you, so handsome, gotta-”

“Nope” The merman swims back into deeper water, “no pictures, those can end real bad for us.”

“But, but you’re so beautiful. If, hic, if pictures are no good, I, I can draw. I draw good, even if no one likes it.”

“Uh, you really wanna sit on a cold beach paintin my picture instead of hangin out at that shindig?” He points up the hill to the brightly lit house. 

“No, nonono, hic, don’t, don’t wanna go back up there, s’awful, hic.” 

“Awful?” The merman sounds concerned, and in the patchy moonlight he swims close enough that Indrid can see the details of his face, “is someone up there hurtin you?”

“No” He shakes his head, “it, it-”

“Indrid!”

“Damn it.” He mutters as the merman retreat beneath waves. As his guests grow closer he stands, carefully picks up all three bottles, and heads uphill to meet them.

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

Indrid shuffles through the house, head pounding, decides he hates the following people, in this order:

-His agent

-Himself

-Whoever mentioned it was a shame there were no Plata River Bridge photos, causing Indrid to drink a whole martini in order to bite his tongue.

It’s not until his third cup of coffee that he remembers the merman. God, he was really rude to someone who was just trying to keep him from drowning.

Very, very carefully, he makes his way to the beach, sketchbook in one hand and thermos in the other. 

“Hello?” He calls across the water. No reply. Of course there isn’t; the merman has the whole ocean to explore, there’s no reason for him to hang around Indrid’s house. He sighs, sits down on a piece of driftwood, and draws. Normally the cold would drive him back indoors, but today it’s bracing, blowing his hangover off of him and down the sand. 

“Glad to see you’re in one piece” 

Indrid sits bolt upright. The merman waves to him.

“You came back?”

“Yeah? I mean, this is part of my rounds, so I come by here at least once a day. More surprised you’re down here when it’s all cold and grey.”

“I, ah, I wanted to apologize for last night. I was being stubborn and rude.”

“You were, but I was kinda grumpy too. At the end of my shift and all that, but I shouldn’t have splashed you.” He smiles, swims closer, “do you, uh, remember any of the other stuff you said?”

“I have a vague memory of begging to photograph you. Or maybe draw, it’s all very fuzzy.”

“You did. I, uh” the merman’s cheeks turn pink, “you were really, uh, well let’s just say you were excited at the idea of drawin me, so I thought maybe, if you wanted to..”

“Yes”  Indrid shifts down into the sand so he can rest his back on the log, “can we do it now? You said you were on rounds, and if you’re working I don’t want to interrupt.”

“I’m done for the day. Should I get on a rock or somethin?”

“Can you come on the sand at all? Oh, ah, it seems you can.” Indrid scoots back as the merman slides gracefully ashore. In the daylight, his tail is a rich green-brown, his hair streaked with grey near his forehead. His eyes, one green and one brown, regard Indrid with curiosity as he turns to a new page. 

“You got a name?”

“Indrid. Indrid Cold.”

“Duck Newton. It’s a nickname.” The mer stretches his arms and tail, and were Indrid in a self-flattering frame of mind he’d say he was flexing for him, “I gotta pose?”

“No, as long as you don’t move too much, I should be fine.”

Duck nods, shifts onto his belly with his tail dipped in the surf. Indrid sets his pen to paper, asks Duck what he does for work and when the tunnel vision of his project dissipates, it’s dusk.

“Oh my, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you so long.”

The merman yawns, “S’okay, it was nice talkin with you, and I got to birdwatch some. Can I see?”

Indrid turns the sketchbook. Mis-matched eyes widen. 

“Holy fuck. You made me look damn good.”

“I simply captured you as you are.” Indrid feels a blush moving up his cheeks as Duck scoots closer. 

“You gonna do this tomorrow?  If, uh, if you don’t wanna draw me again, I can bring you some interestin stuff from the water. If, uh, if you want.”

His schedule for tomorrow starts with a phone interview, after which he was planning to sit in a dark living room and watch mindless T.V.

“That sounds lovely. Thank you, Duck.”

The merman beams, waves, and then pushes back into the sea, raising his tail once in farewell. 

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

“...now, Juno thinks it’s-holy fuck ‘Drid, was that your stomach?” Duck raises his head from where he’s been sort-of-napping, sort of talking.

“Hmm? Yes, I suppose it was.” He has his watercolors out today, a surprise stretch of sunny days rendering the beach and hillsides in glorious technicolor. 

“When did you last eat?”

“..............”

“Oh my fuckin god, ‘Drid, no wonder you look like you’re close to passin out.”

“I’m fine.” 

Duck has that look on his face again, the one he got when Indrid admitted to walking the cliff-side trails when he’s coming back from the roadhouse on the edge of town. When Indrid says he hasn’t slept in two days. 

The merman says nothing, goes back to reading the book of nature essays Indrid brought him. A buzz cuts through the air and he groans, shuts off the alarm on his phone, “I need to go get ready for that interview.”

“You wanna meet up tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Great. But, uh, seem to remember you promised me some of those cookies you say are the best in the world.”

Indrid smirks, “I suppose I did.”

“I want some. But not for dinner, with dinner. You feel me?” There’s an edge in his drawl, as formidable and unyielding as the nearby cliff-face. 

“Alright, I'll bring you some other things to try.” Indrid smiles, suddenly looking forward to a grocery run. 

Duck, now in the water, looks over his shoulder, “Good boy.”

Indrid shivers even as heat blooms in his chest. 

When sunset graces the beach, Indrid is busy setting out a half dozen take-out containers and many plastic boxes of cookies and fruit.

“Damn” Duck slides and wiggles his way onto the sand by the blanket, “you went all out.”

“You wanted a meal. I brought you one.”

“Sure did.” Duck sniffs the air, taps a carry-out bowl of soup, “what’s this?”

“Umm” Indrid peers at the label, “french onion soup.”

“Can I have it?”

“Of course.”

The merman downs the soup as fast as temperature allows, munches happily on the orange segments Indrid peels and samples the cookies. 

“Ahhh” He flops his head into Indrid’s lap, “that hit the spot.”

The human nods, bottle of pineapple soda on his lips. He’s so happy and full. 

Wait.

“Duck? Did you suggest this just so I would eat something?”

The face in his lap only looks a little chagrined, “Kinda. I been meanin to suggest this, and today seemed like the right time. And, uh, I know sometimes I have a hard time lookin after myself for me, but if someone else tells me to do it, or I have to do it as part of lookin after them, it’s easier. Thought that might be goin’ on with you. I, uh, I won’t do it again if you don’t want me to.”

“Nono” Indrid sets a hand in his hair, stroking it so Duck rubs his cheek against his thigh, “you’re right. It was easier to do the kind thing for myself when you told me to. Would, ah, would you be willing to do it again.” 

Duck meets his eyes, gaze bubbling with something dark and alluring, “Sure thing, ‘Drid.”

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

“Before you go, I wanted to give you this.” Indrid holds out the small camera. Duck, perched on a rock, takes it with a puzzled frown. He adds, “It’s waterproof. You mentioned you wish you could take pictures of the things you see in your home. I couldn’t think of a better time to give you than your trip.”

“Thanks, ‘Drid.” Duck leans forward, rubbing their cheeks together, “you remember your instructions?”

“Yes.” He whimpers when Duck pulls back. 

“Good. Want you in good shape when I get home.” Duck’s voice returns to normal, “should be back in a week. I’ll see you then.”

Indrid waves goodbye, keeps waving well past the point where Duck could see him, even if he surfaced. Then he grabs the basket of fresh oysters and heads to the house to call Barclay. 

The phone calls and dinners with one of his few friends in town are part of his agreement with Duck. The mer told him he couldn’t meet every night, so maybe Indrid should find other forms of company. He also helpfully supplies Indrid with fresh shellfish that he has no idea how to cook, but his friend the professional chef certainly does. This dovetails nicely with his promise to Duck to eat at least one full meal a day.

It’s not just the strange dynamic they’ve hit upon that’s improving his life; it’s Duck. The merman makes him feel so safe, like someone cares about the real him and not just the him that makes them money or feeds their morbid curiosity. Not to mention he’s even more handsome than Indrid first thought and he spends plenty of nights jerking off to the thought of a cool, strong tail between his legs. 

He does well the first five days Duck is gone. Barclay and Dani come over for dinner, he paints and draws prolifically, and he even reads up on whether it’s feasible for him to adopt rats (“those are kinda like otters, right?” “close enough.”). Friday night his agent calls, excitedly reporting that it’ll soon be the fifth anniversary of the Plata River incident and the magazine is getting requests for a feature on it and Indrid will be perfect. 

Indrid says he’ll think about it, hangs up, and opens the fridge. He promised Duck he’d only drink if it was with dinner or with friends. He grabs two wine coolers and heads into the living room. 

The next day, he’s idly fiddling with the dating app he hasn’t touched since December when a new profile appears. Very good looking, close by, clearly just passing through town, and interested in Indrid. He invites him over, spends the next half hour getting ready, and even cleans the bedroom because well, that’s what he’d do for Duck, he should do it for anyone else he brings over. 

Indrid opens the door at the second knock. The guy takes one look at him, shakes his head, and returns to his car.

Indrid downs the remaining wine coolers and goes down to the beach to sulk. He tucks his legs up, pressing his forehead to his knees, and rocks back and forth. He’s nearly sober when a voice drifts across the waves.

“‘Drid?” 

He looks up, glasses slipping down his nose, “Duck? You’re, you’re back.”

“Yep. It was fast goin the last ten miles. Brought the camera back, think you gotta be the one to get the pictures off, but I can’t wait to show you all the cool shit we saw.”

“Me neither” He stands and instantly pitches forward, landing on his hands and knees in the shallow water. 

“You been drinking?”

“Yes.”

“You and Barclay have a good time?” He’s giving him the benefit of the doubt, giving him an out, and Indrid decides that isn’t what he wants. 

“I wasn't with Barclay. I got horrible news last night, and today I tried to get laid and got rejected, and I’m at the point in my life where I nearly called after the guy that he could keep his eyes shut and I’d just blow him so he wouldn’t need to look at or touch me. So yes, Duck, I’ve been drinking.”

Duck’s expression swims between concern and disappointment, then comes to rest on neutral steel, “That ain’t what we agreed.”

“I’m aware. But I don’t care, I don’t” he aims a splash at Duck, “it doesn’t matter, nothing matters, nothing will come of it, same as always.”

The merman cocks an eyebrow, “You really think that? You forgettin I said there’d be consequences if you broke the rules?”

“Oooh, I’m so scared.” Indrid splashes him again.

Duck smiles, reminding him that all his teeth end in points, “Didn’t say anythin about scarin you. You really wanna believe that nothing matters, you can head home. Or” he points to a nearby rock, “you go get on your hands and knees, facin the cliffs.”

Indrid crawls gracelessly to the designated spot. It’s dangerous to turn his back on the ocean, but a gentle voice in his mind reminds him over and over that Duck is here. Duck won’t let him get hurt. 

There’s a splash as Duck pulls himself onto the rock. Then a whoosh of air and a sting in the right side of his ass. He yelps, startled, and looks behind him.

“If this ain’t okay, need you to say so now.” Duck’s eyes are wide and hungry, but his hands stay on the grey rock. 

“It’s okay.” He can’t believe this is happening, can’t decide if he should tell Duck this is not remotely a punishment. 

Another sharp grin, “Eyes front.”

Indrid’s barely obeyed when the next strike comes. Duck is strong and makes no attempt to hide it, hitting him hard enough that his knees jolt forward in the sand. The pain lights him up each time, forces the thing knotted in his chest up towards his throat. 

When the blows stop he whimpers, pushing his ass back in hopes of more.

“Don’t worry, ‘Drid, I ain’t done with you by a long shot.” Cold fingers undo his fly, bring his pants and underwear down to his thighs. He’s expecting another hit, wiggles his ass in anticipation. 

What he gets are teeth sinking into his skin.

“AH!GOD” He yells loud enough that his throat hurts.

Duck chuckles, “Holler all you want, we both know no one can hear what goes on on this beach, especially with all the wind.” He bites down again, Indrid thrashing and moaning as teeth sink into already reddened skin. Duck growls in reply, savaging the meat of his as and grazing his teeth along his thighs, dangerously close to his balls. He’s already getting hard, the process expedited by warm breath and lips on his body. 

He moans embarrassingly loud when Duck shoves his ass apart.

“Damn, you really did get all prepped for that fella. Shame, he didn’t know what he was missin.” The plug hits the sand to his right.

“You, you don’t have to flatter meEEEoh, oh Duckohmygoodness.” His fingers dig into the sand as the merman teases his rim with a flexible tongue. There’s a muffled laugh, but Duck doesn’t respond beyond that, too busy threatening him with a good time as his tongue gives an experimental push. 

Then it retreats and he turns his head left and right, delivering quick bites to either cheek before his tongue returns. He alternates between the delicious, teasing licks and painful bites, the shift never coming when Indrid expects and causing him to cry out every time. When the mer releases one side of his ass in order to slap his thighs while he continues licking, kissing, and nipping his way across bruised, sensitive skin, Indrid lets out a strangled sound, the thing in his chest now trapped at the back of his throat. 

“You make such cute noises, but they ain’t the ones I’m lookin for. I ain’t stoppin until you apologize.”

Indrid opens his mouth, intending to say something about how this is the wrong way to make him do so. 

“I, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please don’t be angry with me, don’t leave, don’t leave me here, I can’t, I, I don’t want to think about it, Duck please, I’m sorry, so sorry” he;s hunched forward, sobbing into the sand, when he realizes he’s fully clothed and Duck isn’t behind him.

“No” he squeaks, “no please don’t go.”

“I ain’t goin anywhere.” Duck slides up the sand next to him, pulls him into his arms, “I’m so sorry darlin, I didn’t mean to make you cry, I took it too far, I ain’t mad, not really” he eases Indrid’s glasses off and sets them out of harms way, “oh darlin, c’mere, it’s okay” salty kisses dot his forehead and green scales pet his legs. 

“It’s, hic, it’s not your fault. I, I l-liked it, but this has, hic, been building up for months. Years.” He hides his face in Duck’s chest.

“Years?” Duck grabs Indrid’s sweater from where he cast it off, draping it over the human. 

Indrid sniffs, “You know I’m a photographer. But I’ve never told you what I photograph. I, I made my name recording disasters and their aftermath. For a long time I took pride in it; someone has to document those things, so we can’t erase them, so we have to confront them and try to make things better, or try to keep such tragedy from reoccurring. I was so good at recording it I became famous. Wealthy. And I learned that most people like to gawk at horror and then go about their days. I, I tried branching out and...and I ended up with a disaster anyway. A bridge collapse, I chronicled everything from the instant it started to the funerals and it, it was too much. Ever since then I’ve felt trapped by my work. At times, by my life. My agent wants me to go back for the fifth anniversary, he told me so last night.”

“You ain’t goin, right?” 

“I don’t think I can.” 

Duck nods, rests his chin atop his head, “tell me what you wanna do instead.”

He does. He tells him about his other art, about the pitches for childrens books and the plans for a real vacation, about the life that, for the first time, feels in reach when he speaks about it. By the time he’s done the stars are out and he’s much calmer and clear-headed.

“Did you mean what you said earlier? That, that you thought I was attractive?”

“Every damn word.” Duck rolls them so Indrid is on his back, kisses his cheek, “thought so since that first night. But, uh” his gaze flicks down to Indrid’s crotch, “if you want more proof I’m happy to give it.”

“Please?”

“Get your pants off and lay on your sweater.”

Indrid complies, shivers when Duck guides his shirt up and off. 

“Fuuuuck” the mer rubs his hands up and down his torso, “when it warms up, you’re gonna swim out with me so I can get my fill of this while you ride my dick.”

“Yes. Ah, I, I did prep, but it’s been long enough now that lubrication may be an issueOOOh, ooohyes.” He release into the sand as Duck grinds his tail against his cock. The scales feel as lovely now as they do when he pets them, and he wonders if Duck will let him get off by humping his tail one of these days.

“It won’t, trust me. Lemme just--there we go. Open your legs. Heh, eager little thing.”

“I’ve wanted this too long to play coy.”

“Good.”

“Eeep!” Something slick and squirming presses into his ass, “do, do you have tentacles?”

“Kinda? They’re just the tip, for this exact reason. It, uh, it feel okay?” Duck smiles reassuringly and that, combined with the genuine concern in his voice makes Indrid moans and nudge him closer. 

“VeryOH, oohgracious” two more tentacles join the first, pulsing and scissoring him open, “how many are there?”

“About eight.”

He moans louder and Duck laughs, pushes his hips forward, “glad you like it, darlin’. Because from where I’m sittin your ass is fuckin amazin and I wanna be as deep in it as I can.”

“Yes, absolutely, pleaseAHHnnn” enough tentacles now that he can’t keep an accurate count, “please use it as you see fit.”

“As I see fit huh? That’s a tricky question. See, sometimes I wanna, fuck, wanna shove the whole thing in you at once and make you scream while I leave my mark on your neck.”

“AHHnnngod” A firmer shaft pushes in, ridges rubbing all the right places as the tentacles continue exploring him. 

“Other times, think it’s better to tease you with the tip, maybe make you blow me first and jerk you off until you’re beggin for my dick.”

“Yes, yesyesyesyes”

“But tonight” Duck bottoms out with a groan, “I’m gonna take it nice and slow, show you just how fuckin wonderful you are. How much you mean to me. My Indrid.”

“Yours” Indrid twines his limbs around him, “god, Duck, it feels so good, you’re so good, you always look after me.”

“That I do. Because you deserve it. And” the tentacles find his prostate and he nearly howls as Duck continues, “you deserve to learn how t’be nice to yourself. And I, ahfuck, know that ain’t easy, but I’m gonna be here to help.”

“Yes, ohgod, yes, you’re, you’re so perfect, aaAAAhnI, I’m, close sweetheart, you fill me so well.”

“Damn right. Gonna, nnngh, gonna find every fuckin way to fill you, make you feel fuckin amazin, fuck, that’s it darlin, ohfuckyeah” as he starts spilling into him, Indrid cums with a shout, splattering their stomachs. Duck moans at the sight, wriggles his hips as his shaft continues rippling and pulsing. It turns out mer orgasms are long, so long that Indrid is whimpering from overstimulation by the time Duck pulls out. 

A gentle, salt-soaked kiss to his lips, “Lookit you, took it all. You’re so good for me, darlin.”

“Mmmhmm” He doesn’t want to let go, cold, wind, and damp be damned. Duck seems to understand, holds him and whispers sweet promises in his ears until he’s shivering.

“‘Drid, your teeth are chatterin.”

“I kn-know, I s-should g-go home and w-warm up.”

Duck kisses him again, “sooner you go and rest, sooner we can do this again.”

“An excellent p-point.” He stands, blows a shaky kiss towards his future, “see you tomorrow.”

[mallowstep]

I just thought about this

Do you think the Clan cats might ever have some form of PTSD from eather witnessing another cats death in any form like in battle or another disaster or even killing another cat themselves

I really do want to expand on this

okay matthew from the end of this post here it turns out i have a lot of thoughts and talked for like, almost 2k words about this. sorry. there's a tldr at the end.

hmmmmm

my official answer is, "sure, anything is possible, especially if you want to explore that."

my more rambly answer is...kind of.

we're just going to jump straight in with serious cat talk here, but cats? those mofos are killing machines. they are highly efficient hunters. kind of like people and creating things.

on the other hand, cats are also huge cowards who don't like to fight. hence cat and mouse: the cat doesn't want to go in for the kill unless they're sure they can execute it.

i like to think of them as a very krav maga idea: "we don't fight unless we absolutely have to, but once we go in, we go all in."

so...on one hand, "do cats experience ptsd from killing each other?" feels kind of like asking, "do humans experience ptsd from making things?", and yet, that's clearly extremely reductive.

it's also worth talking about what ptsd is. it's easy to think of ptsd as equivalent to trauma, but it's not.

trauma is, well, traumatic events, ptsd is one possible response. most people who experience trauma do not develop ptsd.

(there's also c-ptsd, but i'm getting to that.)

ptsd is, basically, an overactive adrenaline response, basically. it can look similar to depression and anxiety, but it's not the same. things like flashbacks and triggers are not exclusive to ptsd, or even any specific mental illness. it's normal to experience ptsd-like symptoms after a traumatic event. that's a traumatic response.

ptsd is, instead, the unhealthy extension of that, in time, and possibly severity.

before i go any farther, i just want to say, this is not to say you need to have ptsd to have trauma, that you can't have ptsd/trauma if XYZ, etc., so please, give me the benefit of the doubt here. it's always tricky to word these things in a way that is both clear about what i mean and not harming people.

mental illness is always a tricky subject. trying to fit a sum of many symptoms into boxes will never work, but i am going to lean on it as a tool to categorize and discuss experiences in a general sense.

i also want to mention c-ptsd, or "complex post-traumatic stress disorder." this is a debated diagnosis, in that where it fits into mental illness boxes is argued and it's yet to be included in the dsm, but for now, it's sufficient to think of it as ptsd's fraternal twin.

c-ptsd develops when trauma is prolonged, and there's little/no chance of escape. think kidnappings and child abuse.

it shares a lot of symptoms with ptsd, but it has its own unique cluster of symptoms, especially surrounding relationship issues.

right. we can rule that off for things cats typically experience from battle. but i still want to talk about it.

but ptsd is in reference to human reactions to trauma, which is fine! all warrior cats are at least a little anthropomorphised, or it wouldn't be fun to read about.

okay, before i lose the thread, circling back to my point, the conditions for ptsd are a prolonged response to a traumatic event. i, personally, don't think that your everyday warrior is going to experience this. some amount of battle is normal for cats, yeah?

but i do think ptsd/ptsd-like conditions are quite possible. i'm going to move into a discussion of various characters, now, and i'll put that under a read more.

okay, let's examine a few different cats, starting with mudfur.

why mudfur? because he chooses to be a medicine cat specifically because the battles of being a warrior are too much for him. does this mean he's experiencing ptsd? no, i don't think so. we never see any indication of him having flashbacks or hypervigilance. mind, i have

okay sorry you uh

i took a break to read mothwing's secret

see i've been putting it off bc i knew it was going to make me feel things and lord it did

phew

well i was going to talk about mothwing but first, back to mudfur

i can now confirm that we don't see any evidence of ptsd in him. trauma, maybe, but not ptsd.

which...checks.

next cat, ivypool.

but my ivypool, not canon ivypool, because i gave ivypool ptsd.

if you haven't read it, hedera helix is my canon compliant ivypool series, and you can get the Deets there, but i think "fair is the night" is the piece to focus on here. specifically,

The dark is the same, and the heat, and the way she slinks through the shadows, trying not to take notice. The way every pawstep is echoingly loud, and how she can't catch her breath or find her thoughts over the noise. All that's missing is.

Him.

Maybe Ivypool does still dream.

She hisses, her belt bristling, tail lashing, and raises her paw, claws extended.

what's going on here is that she mistakes tigerheart for hawkfrost.

yes, she has ptsd.

she also has c-ptsd in my writing, but i don't want to talk about this at the moment, because ivypool is complex, and i don't feel like bringing dovewing into this. but no, this is her having ptsd from her (dark forest) mentor trying to kill her. a cat she, at least on some level, trusted turning on her and attempting to kill her.

so for ivypool, it's the unexpected that traumatizes her.

which i think makes sense: cats don't generally expect to be attacked by those they trust. which leads me into...

character three: bluestar.

now, bluestar is complex because of the dementia, but i think it's pretty easy to say: tigerclaw (a cat she trusts) betrays her, she gets hypervigilant and stops trusting people.

i'm deliberately going short on this because i'm at almost a thousand words and uh,, i just want to talk about mothwing.

mothwing. my baby. my beloved. my beautiful.

fuuuuck okay so i should not have read mothwing's secret because this is going to turn into me writing mostly about that, but i actually knew 90% of what was contained in it through moonkitti videos + doing research for various mothwing related projects.

i think the only thing i learned was the moonkitti scene about bees is actually completely canonical, as written, and that it was possible for me to love mothwing more than i already do.

usually, i'd want to also talk about willowshine, but i'm going to keep my focus on mothwing. willow my love is going to come up, but i'm keeping my focus tight.

mothwing! onto my purpose: mothwing and c-ptsd and religious trauma.

she will get her own essay i have a document titled "mothwing and religious trauma" but with trope-bingo i've been writing the essays less, so bear with me.

anyway. i'm not waffling, i'm just trying to set up a good starting point so i don't ramble past the purpose. and i think...the scene with mudfur and mothwing near the end is what i'm honing in on. (spoilers, duh, but also, you don't need to have read it.)

so mudfur comes to mothwing after the battle, and she turns him away. he doesn't understand, but i do.

religion has been used against mothwing her entire life. her clan used it (inadvertently) to keep her from her purpose, hawkfrost used it to maintain his control over her, and mistystar used it to again keep her from her purpose and passion. (and yes, i have strong feelings about what this does to willowshine, but i'm trying to stay on-topic.)

and then, the first tangible proof she has of starclan is the dark forest. and her brother. attacking the nursery. and her.

and then mudfur has the audacity to say, "yeah sorry we don't know anything! but like why are you still rejecting us?"

(makes me want to rewrite the ending of "if you love me any, let me know it now" actually, i'm angry. not going to, but i want to.)

adfskjl mothwing is my new purpose for existing. i may actually consider changing my blog title from "in this house we lovewing dovewing" to something mothwing themed. i love her. expect a mothwing focus sometime soon-ish.

right, so, i don't think mothwing's perspective needs to be explained here. but...she is very self-aware of her position. she struggles with it. she doesn't want to talk to willowshine about her beliefs — she's grateful when willowpaw just accepts it and doesn't discuss it with her.

mothwing as a character has always been appealing to me. but. again, trying to keep focused, her brother is manipulative and cruel.

(i'm not saying abusive because i don't know if he really is. i'd want to do a proper analysis for that, not just ramble in a blank document for a while. he's toxic, but i try to reserve abusive for abusive characters. i think he is, but i don't know how i would defend that, ergo, i'm avoiding it for now.)

just. her whole life.

she spends a long time trusting others, looking to starclan for answer and salvation, and it keeps letting her down, and others keep using it against her, like a weapon. there's a lot to mothwing, but i'm really trying to stay on topic.

before i get to my closing arguments, some honorable mentions for characters i didn't talk about, but could have:

squirrelflight

feathertail, stormfur, and mistyfoot

dovewing

briarlight. okay she's such a good honorable mention i just have to explore this for a second, but the scene in bramblestar's storm where she's afraid of falling trees is good. i don't know, she seems fairly functional, but she's definitely not "over it."

anyone captured by twolegs.

tawnypelt

bramblestar. before you gasp, he too trained in the dark forest and was manipulated by hawkfrost and tigerstar.

probably a lot more.

so anyway, if you hung around for nearly 2k words to listen to me talk about cat trauma, here's my closing statement:

i think ptsd in clan cats is definitely going to be a thing, but i think, more often than not, it's not going to come from the battle. we looked at several examples where the incident happened during a battle, but i think it's the betrayal that's more shocking than the actual fighting.

i didn't address ptsd from cats killing each other, other than mudfur, and that's...frankly that's because i don't know. it is very hard for me to sympathize with those characters long enough to think critically about it.

like, i can write villain pov, but i don't think i can actually say, "what if XYZ feels bad for killing someone?" even if i was going to write about like, firestar killing scourge, i don't think i could.

not in this context, anyway.

similarly, i think a lot of what we'll see is trauma. cats are already extremely vigilant, and while it's possible to get hypervigilant cats, i'm not sure how often it's going to come out. cats are good at hiding physical pain, ipso facto, i imagine they're good at hiding emotional pain.

which isn't to say that they...you know what? you know what? if you want to come argue with me about human ptsd, you can do that on my main. but i'm talking about cats, and i say that they probably don't experience ptsd because they probably shove away a lot of the external symptoms, and that's mostly how we identify ptsd. this is not an end-all be-all, nor does it apply to people, but i don't know how to begin couching this, and i'm tired.

alright, well...

tl/dr: yes, trauma and maybe ptsd occur in clan cats, but i think it's more likely to be from betrayal than fighting.

dkjl this was a lot if u have follow up qs or just wanna discuss this my ask box is open! <3

[serominee]

for the ask meme; nepeta :3c

Thank you for the ask anon I care you very <3

How I feel about this character

I ABSOULTELY ADORE HER!! She is definitely one of my favorite Homestuck characters ^^

All the people I ship romantically with this character

For pale rom, without a doubt Equius, I think a lot of us can agree they are one of the best pale rom relationships in the whole story. As for red and black rom... I really like Fefnep!! I can see Feferi being either Nepeta’s kismesis or matesprit honestly. I feel like in either scenario, Nepeta would help Feferi learn that to be a good ruler/leader you don't need to completely shelter and coddle your subjects as they have a right to their own autonomy. 

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Roxy Lalonde. Cat energy equinox and shared rogue trauma; what more could you ask for?  Ok but seriously I think they would be really good for each other as friends because I think their personalities would mesh really well imo. I actually have an au where Roxy wasn’t always asleep on her moon (and it was safe for her to be awake) and she was able to communicate with the derse dreamer troll ghosts. 

I also really like the friend trio of Tavros, Aradia, and Nepeta mainly for roleplaying shenanigans. I like these three best together specifically because I think that they understand each others boundaries best. I’m not sure why it but they definitely seem like those teenagers that you see at your local pizza shop after school and its like their daily place of congregation and you don’t really know what they’re talking about, but whatever it is they’re really damn passionate about it. (Haha projection go brr). 

My unpopular opinion about this character

I don’t... Okay I don’t really have a good reason for this because I know she is canonically short but I just. In my heart, she’s above average. Like the troll equivalent of 5′8″. 

Also this isn’t really an unpopular opinion I don’t think?? But I really wish she got more credit for being the way she was, seeing as how she was pretty much the most emotionally mature out of almost the whole cast? Idk I just think that she is pretty underrated in that aspect. When she got upset she never forced her will onto anyone and was always really respective of others, which in Homestuck is kind of a rare trait. 

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

LITERALLY ANYTHING. I’m sad we didn’t get to see more of her and I understand why we didn’t because she wasn’t as central of a character to the narrative as like the kids but I just miss her yk

Also I’m just saying,, she is a Rogue of Heart,, there could have been a funny body swap scenario. I know those types of tropes can go sour really easily if done wrong but if the swap-ees were fully consenting I can imagine some top tier pranks happening just sayin’

[1smolbean]

ok rant (? started out as a rant but descended into chaos) time

no but I find it absolutely fucking hilarious that my parents are like "oh just move on from your trauma" and then don't tell me how to do that, trigger me even when I've told them about my triggers, make me talk to people that trigger me, and make me go to places that trigger me. like...ya think maybe, just maybe, that, idk, I might have trouble moving on from those events if I have to relive them all the time? and I've explained it to them but they just refuse to understand it and they don't understand the word "no" either and I just,,,find this the funniest thing ever cause like they don't fucking understand! they don't! and I've told them but they refuse to! and I'm laughing this is so funny they refuse to understand

I CAN'T STOP LAUGHING I'M SORRY THIS IS SO FUCKING FUNNY LIKE THEY REFUSE TO UNDERSTAND IT AND I,,,,,I JUST JKDJFKDLSJFLDKJFD THEY REFUSE TO GET IT AND THIS IS THE FUNNIEST THING EVER THEY REFUSE TO HELP THEIR CHILD LIVE A HAPPY LIFE

what kind of parent does that? a shitty one. they're the most hypocritical people I've ever met cause THEY'VE moved on from their trauma and they respect each other's triggers and my brother's triggers but like,,,not mine and why? CAUSE THEY'RE BAD AT THEIR JOB. THEY'RE BAD PARENTS and I'm literally laughing so hard this is so funny to me and my mother has said before that she is proud of me for not skipping school because she assumed I would but she's proud that I haven't. like,,,,wow okay I literally have no reason whatsoever to skip school though??? why would you assume that? and idk I just find it hilarious that my mother both expects me to get an A+ on every subject and also skip school. like bitch excuse me? that's...HHJFDHSFKHFDSKH THAT'S FUNNY IT'S FUNNY THIS IS FUNNY. I'M SORRY. I'M REALLY SORRY THIS IS HILARIOUS TO ME AND I WROTE OUT A WHOLE GODDAMN RANT ABOUT THIS BUT IT'S JUST THREE PARAGRAPHS OF ME BEING LIKE "MY PARENTS' HORRIBLE TREATMENT OF ME IS FUNNY" AND LIKE...IT IS THOUGH!

I feel like Alvar Vacker and Winter Schnee right now. like I just,,,this is so funny but I also want to stab something right now. is this normal? I don't think this is normal. I should talk to a therapist or doctor but I'm my own therapist and everybody else's too and idk it just seems...wrong to burden people with MY problems when they have their own. i should stop telling people when I'm sad, they don't need that. No, no but they care. why do they, though? my parents "care." they yell at me, say I'm not enough, tell me it's hard to take care of me, but they care. I guess. i think they care. caring is bad. caring for someone is bad. i shouldn't...i shouldn't trust people, because trust gets you hurt. and i hate being hurt. and i shouldn't care about people. i shouldn't care. do i even care? did i ever care? yes. but i won't anymore.

I have gone back to wishing I could acquaint a ridgdly edged object fundamentally used in the construction of walls with my biological father's facial structure. (translation: ok nvm I wanna hit my dad in the face with a brick)

maybe if you didn't yell at me i wouldn't listen to music so loudly. father

father (derogatory)

i am going to lie down on the floor and listen to Special Girl by dodie until i die

i'm the eldest daughter but I'm not a daughter i'm a son but my parents don't care

i feel nothing but the crushing weight of responsibility on my shoulders

I believe I need a counselor, or therapist, or- no, I have one already, I'm my own therapist

I can deal with this on my own

hey mother when you look through my tumblr and read this PLEASE GET ME SOME ANTIDEPRESSANTS OR ADHD MEDS IM NOT DOING TOO GOOD

the powerpuff girls reboot script made me speedrun the five stages of grief I hate it so much

cats opening partially closed doors with their FACES is wild and I love it

I want more soda.

everything hurts and I'm dying

Okay so what the hell happened here Nina please get yourself into shape you need to figure out why you did a 180 from being sad to being angry to being sad to being angry and also that gender can fluid you really be switching from "gender is for mortals" to "none gender left boy" with your emotions too

this picture of Winter Schnee perfectly encapsulates my mood right now

im in pain everybody! were in pain! specifically in my chest! what the hell is happening with my lungs

nevermind we're good now

YOU WILL NEVER HAVE TO HURT THE WAY YOU KNOW THAT I DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I FEEL LIKE I'LL BE OKAY AND I HOPE I CAN JUST MAINTAIN IT I WILL NOT LET MYSELF BECOME MY PROBLEM

AND I'M JUST WAITING FOR THE DAY YOU SAVE ME FROM MYSELF 'CAUSE I CAN'T HELP THE WAY I FEEL FOR YOU FOR YOU

AND WRITE IN EVERY SPACE THE WORDS "I LOVE YOU" IN REPLACE THEN MAYBE TIME WOULD NOT ERASE MEEEEE IF YOU COULD ONLY KNOW I'D NEVER LET YOU GOOOO AND THE WORDS I MOST REGRET ARE THE ONES I NEVER MEANT TO LEEEEEEAAAAVEEEEEEEE UNSAID EMILYYYYYYYYYY

*muffled sobbing*

it's projecting onto fictional characters with trauma hours everybody

DO OR DIE YOU'LL NEVER MAKE ME BECAUSE THE WORLD WILL NEVER TAKE MY HEART GO AND TRY YOU'LL NEVER MAKE ME WE WANT IT ALL WE WANNA PLAY THIS PARY I WON'T EXPLAIN OR SAY I'M SORRY I'M UNASHAMED I'M GONNA SHOE MY SCARS GIVE A CHEAR FOR ALL THE BROKEN LISTEN HERE BECAUSE IT'S WHO WE ARE

hey remember that "fuck therapy I'm becoming a knight" post I spam reblogged yeah that's my current mood rn

anyway that concludes round one of my annual mental breakdown don't worry I'll be back in approximately five minutes after drinking an entire bottle of soda

[akari-hope]

Could you talk more about Catra’s role in perpetuating the cycle of abuse when it came to her past treatment of Scorpia & Entrapta? And I know we didn’t get to see much of it onscreen (unfortunately), but how do you think she made amends w/ them & unlearned the survival tactics that were toxic in general? It’s always awesome to hear your input!

sure!

so we’re all on the same page, abusive relationships typically involve a power imbalance, as well as some degree of reliance or trust. that’s why it’s often so hard to leave abusive romantic partners, or to get away from abusive parents. the victims trust and/or rely on the abuser, and it’s how the abuser keeps them in line, how they’re able to manipulate them. now, important to note: some abusers are NOT aware that they are being abusive. and i don’t mean people who pretend they’re not, who use that as part of their gaslighting or other methods of control, i mean genuinely not realizing the degree of their actions until the damage they’ve done is too great.

with that being said, let’s talk about catra. we already know catra herself is an abuse survivor, and that has a big effect on how she goes about forming relationships with others. she’s alone and afraid, and doesn’t know how to BE friends with someone, really.

enter scorpia. scorpia is basically everything catra isn’t. patient, kind, laid-back. she doesn’t care nearly as much (arguably at all) about ranks and the horde’s “mission”. and this all makes catra feel deeply uncomfortable. she tries to push scorpia away again and again. until...she realizes scorpia can be useful. 

princess prom is really the big turning point in their relationship. catra uses scorpia’s status to enact her plan, and that’s when it really gets cemented in her head that she’d be better off keeping scorpia around than pushing her away. problem is that catra doesn’t know how to be friends with someone. she has sincere moments of affection that shine through (sharing the blanket in “white out”, the entirety of “once upon a time in the waste”), but for the most part their friendship hinges entirely on scorpia’s genuine care for catra. meanwhile, catra constantly berates and insults her, and uses her for her own ends.

now, entrapta gets it even worse in my opinion. the minute entrapta shows up, catra’s already thinking about how she can use her for her own gain. she uses physical affection as a weapon, stroking entrapta’s hair to comfort her, to convince her to work for catra. it’s a strikingly similar scene, mirroring something shadow weaver has done regularly to both catra and adora. (quick side note, it’s kind of brilliant that we see catra repurposing this before we even really see shadow weaver do it. if i’m remembering correctly, we don’t see this specific gesture until flashbacks in “promise”.) unlike with scorpia, catra also uses physical force with entrapta, grabbing her by the hair being a go-to. catra really relies on entrapta’s lower position and lack of social awareness to keep her on her side. after hordak takes a liking to entrapta, though, catra realizes this method won’t fly anymore.

you could call both of these situations simply “toxic friendships”, but to me that really doesn’t cut it. this is where catra really projects her own trauma and abuse onto others. this is where she perpetuates the cycle. the other common claims of catra abusing people, adora and hordak, really just don’t have that power imbalance, that level of trust necessary for that idea to hold water. but scorpia and entrapta, up until the end of s3, both REALLY trust catra. they consider her their friend. and catra uses this to get what she wants out of them both, all while treating them like shit.

the dividing point for both entrapta AND scorpia is the same - when catra shocks entrapta and sends her to beast island. it’s the first time she uses REAL force against either of them, and the first time she directly threatens scorpia. the illusion is broken. she’s NOT their friend, not really. catra is only in it for herself. and come s4, catra is once again using her position of power over scorpia, cutting what few threads kept scorpia tied to catra.

with entrapta, catra used her from the start. there was never a genuine thread of friendship there. it’s one of the reasons i think that what she did to entrapta merely haunted her, and didn’t break her. with scorpia, it’s hard to say if catra really meant to hurt her or not. there’s moments where it seems like catra truly cares. and i think she didn’t actually have the intention of hurting scorpia. it’s why scorpia saying “you’re a bad friend” and leaving hits catra so much harder than anything else.

the biggest thing that catra needed to unlearn, i think, is that being vulnerable is bad, and that she won’t be rejected if she is. this is the biggest one we see her grow to learn in s5. apologizing to entrapta is her first big challenge after “save the cat”, and we can see how much she’s struggling to get the words out, how she flinches when entrapta reaches out. she’s fully expecting to be met with hostility, or at least rejection...but instead entrapta forgives her. she doesn’t excuse catra’s actions, but she’s willing to let catra back in. she’s willing to try.

and catra’s very lucky that entrapta and scorpia are both incredibly forgiving people. she’s very lucky that they both know she can be better, and that they’re willing to be in her life again. that’s something that could’ve very well ended her relationship with them permanently. catra’s healing is something that can only be done, really, with other people. so, making amends with catra and scorpia is part of her healing. they’re both the end and the means.

[caslikescoffeeandfreckles]

Do you have fic recs of your favorite destiel fics? I haven't read destiel give in a while and since I can not leave the house I might as well read some and I only trust you for recs

I am honored??? That someone values my opinion???

You didn’t specify any tropes so I just dug through my AO3 bookmarks and picked my favorites lately. They vary by length and rating so just make sure you check the tags for each one before you start reading!

1) La Hantise by @wanderingcas

Summary: Castiel’s mother dies, leaving him the family home that sits abandoned on the moody coast of Maine. He’s forced to return to the past ghosts of his trauma, as well as meeting the mysterious and nomadic Dean Winchester. Dean offers to help Castiel fix up the house so he can sell it, which quickly becomes problematic as Castiel begins to develop feelings for Dean; especially when details of Dean’s troubling past come to light.

This is a story about the sea, second chances, and two broken, forgotten people building a love between them while restoring a broken, forgotten house.

Note: I love Sam!! She’s a wonderful writer and her current project is an infuriating suspenseful maybe ghost story???? maybe not??? WHO KNOWS! But Dean and Cas are well-written and both have very interesting backstories. Definitely recommend!

2) While You Were Sleeping

Summary: A Destiel version of While You Were Sleeping! Castiel is alone and floundering. He has a crush on one of the passengers who passes through his subway station every morning. When the man gets pushed onto the tracks, Cas saves him. But when they get to the hospital there's a mix up and Cas finds himself engaged to a complete stranger. Enter, the rest of the family, including big brother Dean. How will Cas navigate the relationship with his supposed future in-laws? What will he do when Sam finally wakes up? And why can't he stop thinking about Dean?

Note: this was such a sweet read, just enough angst with a satisfying ending

3) Not a Bad Thing

Summary: In which Bela makes a bet that Castielle can't have a one night stand. Castielle proves her wrong, of course, and wins the bet, but then she ruins it all when she asks the girl to spend the night.

Note: this is a femslash AU which are really hard to find but I LOVED this one so much I scarified by already limited sleeping time

4) Undercover Boyfriend

Summary: Two men, one lie, and a whole bunch of trouble.

Castiel Novak’s in serious trouble. His sister’s destination wedding in Mexico filled with several days of activities, is in only two days. And everyone expects to meet his underwear model Alpha boyfriend — the one he invented. Now Cas has to produce a half-naked hottie or suffer the worst humiliation of his life. But Cas just doesn’t date those kinda guys! Or even know any for that matter.

Undercover FBI agent Dean Winchester’s cover is blown and he needs to disappear fast. When he ducks into a bar he runs into Castiel, a comic book artist, one very hot, but geeky Omega. And as luck would have it he just happens to be looking for an Alpha.

Could they be the solution to both their problems? Or will trouble find them on the sandy beaches of Mexico?

5) The Purrfect Catch

Summary: Alpha Dean Winchester is surprised to see a newspaper ad written by his neighbor, Omega Castiel Novak, requesting potential Alpha mates. The challenge is simple on the surface: the Alpha who can obtain the single key from Novak cat’s neck, will be Castiel’s new mate. The cat spends a good amount of time lounging on Dean’s porch, though Dean’s half convinced its only for the snacks he feeds him. Dean isn’t the kind of Alpha Castiel wants, but at least Dean can enjoy watching Alpha after Alpha chase after the feline in the hopes of winning Castiel’s heart.

Note: this is one of my new favorites! I really love this trope and I’ve reread it several times!

6) What Greater Gift

Summary: Story idea: The most wanted woman in town has announced that she’ll only marry the one who can open her front door with the key around her cat’s neck. Many men try to hunt the cat down, chase and trap it, but to no avail, the cat is simply too quick, smart and clever, and always finds a way to evade and avoid them.

You are the first one to figure out the obvious: Do not chase the cat. The cat is befriendable. Get the cat to trust you, to genuinely enjoy your company, and you can hang out with the cat. You may eventually be allowed to touch the cat. The cat will freely let you take the key.

Note: this is the same trope as #5 and I’ve reread is several times too!!

7) The Ed Sheeran Effect

Summary: Dean and Cas—inseparable best friends since sixth grade—find themselves dateless only weeks before their high school prom and eventually come to the realization that the only option left is to go together. Wanting to give his fresh out of the closet best friend the date of a lifetime, Dean pulls out all the stops and soon discovers what he's always felt towards Cas is a lot more than friendship.

Note: I’m not usually one for long form high school AUs (they remind me too much of my students) but I really latched onto this one

8) Poisk Istiny (Finding Truth)

Summary: A rival family is stealing the Patricolo Family’s Boston shipments and collecting a neat payday five hours away on the streets of Brooklyn and Manhattan. Their Don, Dean Winchester, is wary about reaching out to a long-time New York ally. The Russian Bratvas do things differently. The young Pakhan, Castiel Krushnic, is hard-nosed and violent and while violence is mainstay in any underworld family, this boss has a special flair for it. It leaves an uncomfortable taste in Don Winchester’s mouth.

Encouraged by his Consigliere, Bobby Singer, he finally relents. The Pakhan is quite different from what he was expecting. Dean learns the man’s secret by accident and decides to keep it to himself. They have bigger fish to fry as they discover traitors in both of their organizations while their enemy ups the stakes for each of them. After members of each family are kidnapped, the stakes get even higher.

Betrayed from within leads to exposing long held secrets and when long denied desires are unleashed it puts each of them on a path that will change their lives forever.

Note: THIS ONE IS SO GOOOOOOD. Cas is a total badass I would die for him and I love the way he and Dean bond just fuck yes all around

Hope you like any of these! If not, just let me know what kinds of fics you like and I can try to find more specific ones for you!

[beclynn-herondale]

Since there is a lot of tension in the fandom right now,it’s time to take a step back and go back to the beginning.Share your own tsc story.Regardless of where you are with the fandom,remember why and where you started.When and why did you start reading it?Who was your favorite character?What’s your favorite scene?What made you want to hug the book close to your chest?How did it help you?You can share this with everyone if you wish and I promise you'll feel good!The fandom needs this!Thank you!!

Hi Anon,

First of all I know this is long but please if you want to know a little about why I love TSC so much read it. 🧡💛

Jace my golden boy how he saved me.

I have never actually been extremely open entirely about it and this is extremely personal but I will say, I found these books in a time in my life when I was at an end, I didn't know who I was, who i wanted to be, i didn't really see myself in any fictional characters and I had just come back from an incident that made my family and friends and even people who didn't know me look at me differently. I was dealing with totally strangers commenting on my scars and saying things that are still with me to this day, and I was ashamed of myself and I felt like a total fuck up and let down to my family and it is why the incident happened in the first place.

I remember after said incident I asked my mom if we could go to the book store it was originally to get the other two Hunger Games books and I remember my mom saw City of Bones and was 'you know your big sister read these books.' And I was like okay I'll get it it won't hurt. And we came back home that day and I showed my big sis and she was like 'omg! You are going to love it! And you'll relate to Clary a lot, she reminds me of you actually, and she is like you, she looks delicate like a doll but she's not and she's strong and tough like you.' I remember being like I'll have to read this then and so I picked City of Bones up eventually and after the first couple chapters I went to my mom and was like 'hey listen i need you to order me the rest of these books cause i need these.' And she did and i remember i related to Clary and lot but i related so much to the character my sis didn't think I would, I related to Jace Herondale, I had and still have always been afraid of love, cause of how it can destroy you, and I remember dealing with all my mental issues and see him deal with his and his he held it all in and pretended he was fine and acted tough and strong and like things didn't hurt him and I saw myself in him. I remember later on relating to his issues with his parents more so in these recent months with my mother and the way she has been treating me.

But I remember reading about how he was told how his sensitivity was a weakness, how his gentleness was a weakness, how his empathy was a weakness, how his softness was a weakness and I saw the many times I was told you are gentle and the world breaks and crushes gentle things, so you need to toughen up. And I remember trying to bury that part of myself like Jace tried to do. I remember so many saying how beautiful I was and how my mom needs to keep an eye on me, and then reading the quote "the world breaks beautiful things." And suddenly it all hit differently. I remember how he was with things like his pain and how I saw in him how he didn't want to bother people with it or be pitied for it and how I was the same way. I remember growing up seeing blondes portrayed as just ditzy and the dumb one, and I remember growing up hating my hair cause of that, cause everyone will think I am just a ditz, in fact it's why I dyed it dark. And then I read about Jace and how yes he has his dumb moments but he is also smart, he is strong, he is so much more then just a blonde, and he made me want to go back to my natural hair color and own myself. I remember being so insecure in my looks and hating my looks so much but reading about Jace gave me so much confidence and he has been a big part of where my confidence has come from, I look in the mirror and I see beautiful now. I remember what it was like to see the character who has so much trauma and mental issues to win, to win against his abuser, to win against the people who constantly made comments, to win against his battles, to win against his demons and find love and acceptance, to see Jace happy and in love with Clary gave me the hope that maybe I could actually find love and happiness myself, maybe my story doesn't have to stay a tragedy *cliche of me to say I know*, seeing him win against his abuser was honestly an eye opener and watching him blame himself for the abuse is something i did for a long time, I always listened when they said 'we are talking to you like this' or 'we are doing this' cause they wanted me to be tough enough for the world. Jace made me realize that my abuser was in fact abusing me and manipulating me and using me.

I dealt with hearing said abuser say things like 'she's a life destroyer' through my walls every night and I remember thinking i deserved it and that i really was one.

I remember when I first read Jace say no to Valentine and I was like you can say no to your parent??? And I realized how I wasn't allowed to have an opinion in my parent's house and how nothing I ever said was validated or important, in fact I was told to do as I was told and be obedient. I remember how when he talked about plants he reminded me of the love I have for plants and it brought back childhood memories of me talking to plants and telling them they are beautiful. I remember reading about him talking to church and how I used to have conversations with my cat and share all the tea with him and how much of a comfort he was to me.

I remember first reading about how Jace played the Piano and how the Piano has Always interested me and how I always wished I knew how to play it. I remember Jace saying he read a bunch of books as a kid and how I used to read books as a kid, I remember when I was first able to read on my own and how proud I was of myself and how I would sit and just read, it was my escape from my parents constantly screaming they hate each at each other and how they could just leave and not come back. I remember first reading about how Valentine being gone affected Jace and how when I first lost my bio dad how even though I was extremely hurt by him in ways how he was gone and how in a way I was abandoned which is something I am extremely afraid of. I remember how I saw a broken teenager and saw myself in him. I have never looked at myself as anything but a broken girl really and I remember how numb I was, how hard i had tried to shut my feelings off, and I remember reading about Jace brought back my feelings and how he made me want to own my brokenness, he made me want to own my gentleness, he made me want to own my sensitive side. I remember seeing him with kids and I saw myself, I have always had a passion for kids and how beautiful and innocent their spirits are and how I have always wanted to protect them from what the adults are going to tell them. I remember how Jace made me want to be happy and how he truly brought my feelings back. I remember how my feelings just came back and things started hurting me more often again but in a way it was a reminder that hey you are back. I read about how fragile he is and how I am the same way, you can break me so easily, and I remember his quote about god and how I said something very similar.

Now onto Clary since I have already made this post long.

Clary Clary Clary where do I start you beautiful red haired girl, she showed me that the small short girl can be the hero, as a 5'2 girl myself, I look up to her and she inspired me, she encouraged me and she just showed me so much bravery and projected that bravery onto me. She showed me size doesn't matter at all. *I have always been teased about my height* she taught me that forgiveness is important and that giving another chance is important but that they need to change. She taught me kindness and cheerfulness, I remember reading about how she loved this anime called Bleach and I was like hey that's my favorite anime, I remember reading about she read Manga and I was like hey I read Manga, I remember reading about her curly hair and how I had curly hair, I grew up hating my curly hair cause it wasn't like all these other girls hair and now I absolutely love it and would never give it up, and Clary played a part in it, I know to some the hair stuff may not seem like a big deal but I used to hate my hair with a passion and these two characters made me love it. I remember what it was like seeing the girl save the guy instead of the other way and how strong and brave Clary is.

Recently Clary's bravery saved me, I went through something that totally shook up my world and changed my life completely but if i hadn't thought about Clary's bravery and something similar that happened to her it would have been much worse and I am so thankful for her, and i remember reading about the way Clary sees the world and how i see it in similar ways. I see the Beauty and the Horror, and I see it in a gray way. I remember seeing her fight for her loved ones and how I fight for mine. And Goodness there is so much more, I remember how so many see Clary as delicate and fragile but how she is actually extremely tough and how that's how I am, somebody pushes me and expects me to go into the ground but I don't. I remember how she is kinda nerdy and how I am too.

I remember what Clace did for me and showed me you can be happy and you can find love. They taught me so freaking much and have built me into who I am today.

MALEC TIME

And one last mention Alec Lightwood-Bane and Magnus Lightwood-Bane, they were the first Queer couple that said hey you're valid! To me and they represented me in a way I didn't think I could be, they mean so much and are so very dear to me. Reading about them has truly also shaped me into who I am. I remember first reading about them and wanting to cry because they were Queer characters that weren't just comical relief or there to be killed off, and they got a happy ending, *for now* I remember it like and pat on the head saying babie you are valid and you are beautiful and you will find someone who will cherish and love you like Alec Lightwood-Bane loves Magnus Lightwood-Bane, I remember seeing Magnus own his bisexuality and not being ashamed or take shit about how he wasn't valid cause damnit Bisexuals are valid.

Again there is so much more but hey this is extremely long and it's almost 3 am and It's that time of night where everything just pours out of me and i may regret saying all this later.

If you would like to hear more just ask.

Anyway Anon have a good day and thank you for this.

And I want you all to know this is not very much like me but with everything that's going on I want you to know, what TSC has done for me.

[viktorfm]

(MAXENCE DANET-FAUVEL, NONBINARY) - Have you seen VIKTOR SAMUELS? VIKTOR is in HIS/THEIR SENIOR year. The VISUAL ARTS MAJOR is 24 years old & is a CAPRICORN. People say HE/THEY are OBSERVANT, INGENIOUS, RETICENT and DEPENDENT. Rumors say they’re a member of KINCAID. I heard from the gossip blog that THEY'RE HAVING AN AFFAIR WITH THEIR THERAPIST. (JAMES. 21. EST. THEY/THEM.)

dont. look at me. i know. anyways if it wasnt obvs i abandoned cupid (n darrow) in order 2 bring the two ocs tht he ws inspired by n ws a combination of bt. theyre better as different ppl methinks.

DEATH, HEAVY GRIEF, OVERDOSE / DRUG ADDICTION, HOSPITALIZATION, HYPERSEXUALITY, RELIGION MENTIONS TW

aesthetic.

old tvs and their static, worn tapes, horror movie screams, spilled ink, a sculptor’s hands, clay-stained, chicken scratch handwriting, messy notes, messy hair, scoffs and eye-rolls, bruised knuckles, sore throats, funeral homes and a crying preacher, shattered ceramics, knife fights, high ledges, vertically-striped pants, red lights, the moon shrouded in clouds, cigarette butts, graveyards and half-empty wine bottles, sitting there for hours and talking to nothing, about nothing, a god complex, gold rings adorning both hands, barbwire baseball bats, having never played baseball in your life, deep eyebags and broken mirrors, a permanent chip on one’s shoulder, yearning, longing, wishing.

basics.

full name: viktor phillip samuels

nickname(s): icky vicky :/

b.o.d. - january 2nd, 1996

label(s): the black hole, the crepehanger, the impious, the opaque, the tempest, etc.

height: 6′1″

hometown: preaker, vermont

sexuality: pansexual uwu

pinterest

stats

favorite song: disorder, joy division / it’s getting faster, moving faster / now it’s getting out of hand / on the tenth floor, down the back stairs / it’s a no man’s land / lights are flashing, cars are crashing / getting frequent now / i’ve got the spirit, lose the feeling / let it out somehow

background.

born to mama and papa (preacher) samuels in preaker, vermont - fifteen minutes after his twin sister, tatiana samuels. years later, rosa samuels joined the gang.

was an awkward, quiet kid growing up, he didn’t interact well with others and preferred being left alone to dig up worms and draw on the walls of their childhood home. the only exception was his twin, really.

as he got older he grew out of this, but instead became like … sort of an asshole? maybe to compensate for years of childhood awkwardness. he’s the sort of person who will bite the hand that feeds him & developed into a full time nuisance by middle school, unlike tatiana who was much more subtle about her conniving manners.

always has been a fan of ‘darker’ materials. grim & creepy morbid shit. probably the biggest tim burton fan, ever since he was a kid … not a good look for a preacher’s son, but he never really felt ‘in’ with the rest of his family to begin with. classic black sheep syndrome.

drew disturbing pictures as a kid that probably prompted one or two or five phone calls home to assure everything was fine.

just really had a knack for art at a young age, from drawing to painting to playing with clay. it’s always been his thing and probably is the only thing he’s good at.

being twins with tatiana was hard. they were near opposite besides both being quite mean-spirited. tatiana handled being in public better, left a better image behind - but viktor had talent, more than she did. they loved each other deeply - y’know, those unbreakable twin bonds as cliche as it sounds - but found each other as competition for their parents’ attention. a rivalry for affection.

in high school is when viktor really started to act out. it started extreme, like losing his virginity in their church and vandalism around the neighborhoods. faked being possessed in the middle of sunday service & almost had an exorcism performed on him.

his only redeemable trait was like … just his sheer talent in the arts. was in a 3d art ap course and specialized in sculptures. he could pretty much create anything he wanted with enough dedication.

because he was the problem child, the one who deserved to be disciplined for all his antics, tatiana could sneak away and get away with whatever she wanted much easier. on the bright-side, for her, i guess.

not a very motivated person - wasn’t planning on going to college, much less going to yates but his parents literally wrote & sent his college application for him because they weren’t going to house a deadbeat but had too much heart to kick him out onto the streets. cool!

he’s actually pretty smart but he just doesn’t apply himself. has a minor in english because he didn’t care for an extra course-load, but he’s good at writing & analyzing literature. is going to use it to write and illustrate his own series of children books with a style similar to tim burton’s. not for the kids, but because he likes to leave a trail of terror in whatever he does.

has been experimenting with himself since high school but college is where he really had started to crack down on himself. was out as pansexual & nonbinary by his sophomore year of college just … not to his parents, who don’t really need to know.

if you asked him if he believed in twins having a psychic connection with each other - he’d tell you he wouldn’t know. it felt believable at times, but sometimes he had no idea what was going on inside of tatiana’as head. on the other hand - viktor had always felt oddly transparent to her, like she knew all of his moves before he did. the only person who could predict him accurately.

( tw death, grief, overdose / hospitalization beyond this point )

when tatiana disappeared, viktor knew something was up. it was a twist in his gut, pure instinct that something wasn’t right. and it wasn’t right - and when she was proclaimed missing, they couldn’t find her.

and when tatiana died - viktor knew. it felt wrong, something cut so severely in him he could pinpoint her death to the second. he didn’t know how, or why, but he knew it. knew it before anybody else had.

afterwards he went on a sort of bender. he’d begun to struggle with a mild drug addiction late senior year of high school / early college, but he was managing it up until this point.

his mental health had also sunk to an all-time low, when it’d never been great to begin with. (manic & depressive episodes. once fixated on a sculpting project for six months and then knocked it off the table and destroyed it as soon as he finished it for no apparent reason.)

tatiana’s body wasn’t found immediately, and when it was … viktor went off the rails. ended up overdosing & being hospitalized. spent six months in & out of psychiatric care after that.

came back to yates to finish his senior year because … for the reasons above, he hadn’t been able to complete it. just wants to get his credits and get out of here.

is still dealing with a lot of trauma & grief - causes him to spiral and be unpredictable in regards of his mental health. he stopped taking his medication, so. :/ some days are alright, other days are pretty bad.

personality & facts.

the human embodiment of a gremlin that was fed after midnight. a goblin, if you will. one of those cats with a narrow head and really big ears … that’s them!

a big horror & halloween enthusiast. loves the old campy horror movies & probably has an abundance of masks from different movies. dresses like a grimy millennial beetlejuice more than they should because they just … love those black & white vertical-striped pants.

can appreciate the ~urban legends~ at yates and likes to feed into the fear that surrounds them. is probably the cause of a few ‘anomalies’ and ‘paranormal sightings’ because they’re just … a jerk.

fashion alternates between e-boy (they would be tiktok famous if they were 17 & didn’t think that a majorly minor based app was weird.), millennial beetlejuice, and goth in a crop top & sweatpants. big fan of crop tops and a big fan of sweatpants.

they can be really fucking mean? petty, aggressive, a major instigator. will literally spit in your face for little to no reason, you could just look at them the wrong way. the kind of person who will stick their gum into someone else’s hair. other than that? they’re like … sort of okay. they’re not always mean, just a dick about 90% of the time lmao

like okay yeah they’ll call someone a stinky bitch for no reason except they feel like it and believes it. it’s fine, they’re fine, we’re fine.

despite the fact that they’re probably getting into a fight whenever, considers themself to be a lover and not a fighter but that’a primarily because they fuck a lot. uses it as a coping mechanism, like they’re this big fancy carnival show that’s like ‘come one, come all! fuck the dead girl’s twin brother!’ and it’s … a lot. might have a problem with hypsersexuality but they’re not fully aware of it.

the preacher’s whore son, basically :)

pansexual & nonbinary, switches between he & they pronouns often and without a pattern, but they have such a fragile grip on their identity that you could call them ‘dog-faced bitch’ and they’d turn around like. sup.

vastly impulsive … like i said, they destroy their own creations for the fun of it. spends all their money on useless shit, will cheat on someone because they feel like it & likes the thrill, screams into the night sky frequently like a cat in heat.

will also spend months creating useless shit for no reason too. spent six of them sculpting a hollowed out tree the size of them & then took a sledgehammer to it.

they’re very super dramatic. would play the organ at church when nobody was looking after them and service was about to start. would just churn out these super haunting, creepy melodies like they were phantom of the opera. would do the same exact thing at home on their keyboard with the pipe organ setting whenever they got grounded until their parents took it away hbdsjfngkh

will absolutely not talk about their ‘time away’ because it’s not anyone’s business, not even their own younger sister. still refuses to talk about tatiana’s death, or their mental health, or their addiction (fallen back into it but it hasn’t gotten severe … yet :/), or anything involving their own emotions.

will just change the topic abruptly, no warning. asks about the jonas brothers instead and they fucking hate the jonas brothers.

that being said they’re absolutely not over tatiana’s death & it’s to the point of obsession over it. like there’s some kind of secret that needs to be uncovered, even though there just. isn’t. tatiana was their rock and they were pretty much dependent on her. kept them grounded. could control them when nobody else could, got into their head easier than others. it’s sort of like rosa lost two siblings that day because viktor hasn’t been the same since.

emotionally unavailable while also crying twice a day. cries during their brawls but still wins. is stony-faced when they tell you they cheated on you with your much hotter best friend.

will tell you straight up what they want from you, no bullshit & no beating around the bush. just blunt. if they want to fuck, nothing else, then that’s it. if they feel deviation or developing feelings then they’ll ghost in less than a second. is awful like that but feels no shame.

but also emotional as shit and it’s confusing. will cry on a whim and then flip you off if you try to console them or ask them what’s up. will bite you.

they go to therapy but they just fuck around and wastes their therapists’ time … also is fucking their therapist, but that’s neither here nor there. so they’re not really getting the help they need.

likes to be intimidating but not … with their body or anything because they’re a twig but uses their love & knowledge of horror and creepy shit to their advantage. has an abundance of fake blood. has channeled the energy of jack nicholson and used it on tatiana’s boyfriends before (also is a big fan of sfx makeup & has dabbled in it)

probably chases kids around with a chainsaw without the chain on halloween every year.

generally never doing good, both mental health wise & morally. would probably steal candy from a baby for funsies.

i don’t know if there’s a good to them somewhere deep down, but they don’t see any issues with themself either. nothing really breaks through to them anymore because the only person who ever made them stop and think about their actions was tatiana, and well, y’know. :/

an introverted reclusive type who doesn’t like most people or going out, but does so anyway if it means a quick high & a cheap thrill.

pretty observant and likes to analyze people even though they’re often like … partially wrong. judgmental because they like to make people feel bad, not because they’re a righteous mighty person. because they’re not. so like, a hypocrite!

wanted connections.

religious trauma? oh worm ;; three cheers fr <3 guilt <3 anyways uh. just people tht viktor hs known thru the church in some way even tho hes a fkn. freak now. maybe even family friends. 

the horror of our love :/ ;; hmm. any romance tht cld b toxic i think this cld fit. just rly a bad fit. viktor doesnt rly know hw to love so nothing rly lasts bt. maybe they try n try n nothing works bt they keep trying. cld also just be anything unrequited.

little fkn gremlins ;; theyre all evil n mean. bt theyre all friends. <3 

you are nothing ;; uuh. enemy plots. spicy enemies. rly bad enemies. rivals. they r brutal towards each other bcos nothing viktor does is ever soft.

fuck u dont pity me ;; uh. people who try to get close to viktor n he just. bites at them. he’s like no. bc he assumes ppl who r kind in response 2 his vileness r. theres smth wrong w them. n it might hv to do with pity. n he hates pity.

ugh. locals x ;; ppl who also grew up around preaker, vermont. the samuels r <3 well known folks n the uh. hm. the murder is an ongoing case. so they cld know abt it <3

dont tell anybody x ;; this is for soft plots. i dont know much about soft plots but. 

maybe i am part of the problem ;; the problem is chlamydiagate. this is a hook-ups connection. fwbs n one night stands. ppl viktor hs brutally ghosted. he doesnt acknowledge their existence outside of these events, perhaps. 

dont u just wna go apeshit ;; this is where viktor becomes a bad influence.

bt uh. anything. pelase

[cynicaldesire]

I am constantly worried for a friend of ours that he doesn’t have a healthy relationship with this wife, or that his wife is somehow not... healthy for him. Like he seems happy and I don’t talk to him or them enough to have a good understanding, but the limited view I do have is setting up a bunch of red flags. My husband keeps reminding me that I need to relax and it’s not really my problem and like... they both seem to have trauma that they are trying to ameliorate and, like, fine, no therapy works the same for everyone and just because I don’t like it doesn’t mean it isn’t actually good.

I didn’t want to make this a long post, but I’m thinking about it, so I’ll post what I want to feel less crazy about and then Read More the rest.

He was talking about how he needs a job because they can’t really survive on her income alone. He said he didn’t want to get a job doing something like driving a truck because it’s hell on your body and you run the risk of getting in late. The example he used was he doesn’t want to get in at like 6am and not want to wake up his wife because she has to get up and go to work and she needs her rest so he’d have to sleep on the couch so he doesn’t bother her.

I have been going over this scenario repeatedly trying to figure out why this was.... one of the issues with it and like... my husband even asked on my behalf if the scenario was from our friend’s own compassion and not his wife’s idea of how that would go down. He was cool about it, which I thought was weird, and said of course, it’s his own compassion.

As a military brat and my father having driven a production truck, I cannot fathom the idea of being angry that my husband came home and woke me up to get into bed after a long, harrowing drive. I cannot comprehend the concept of not welcoming my husband into bed, cuddling and kissing and getting him warmed up in winter, spooning, and going back to sleep with my partner. It doesn’t make sense to me. And that our friend’s wife doesn’t also say WTF, babe, just come to bed! boggles my mind.

I’m paranoid, of course. Because we drove about an hour after this conversation to Costco and my husband told me, after like the 4th time I had talked this over with him, that I was something odd. I asked what he meant and he said I was a pretty consummate military wife/brat. I didn’t understand what he meant but, I mean, I watched my parents deal with both military and trucking.

But I guess how paranoid am I?

I said it would be short, Haha.

But like, our friend quit his job a couple years ago at the behest of his wife who said he should become a personal trainer. He got certified in it and everything. He quit before he had a new job despite our protests and then was unemployed for a while, turning to try to become something of a streamer while he was job hunting. Because even though she encouraged him to quit his job with his Tr*mp-supporter boss, they can’t really afford their lifestyle on just one salary. But also trying to be a streamer wasn’t happening so he was forced to be the only white guy at a construction job provided him by his abusive Tr*mp-supporter father. He got let go from that due to COVID and has been mostly unemployed since, after a brief stint as a face character at Six Flags. And now he’s learning code so he can get a job doing code because she doesn’t want to work and finish her degree and would rather just do her job that involves monopolizing his time and his computer. Her job requires some graphical work and his desktop is the only one powerful enough to help her do it, so he just... works on his shitty laptop doing minimal stuff on the internet like learning code from codecademy.

Where this ties in to my own personal traumas and I think I’m projecting onto him, is where my family would demand I get a job because, they said, they worried I would be able to make it in the world without them because I had no skills, no job, nothing and I would probably end up under a bridge if they ever died suddenly. Or maybe I wasn’t doing enough around the house, didn’t do the dishes often enough or didn’t keep the house clean enough and therefore I needed to do something to earn my keep because family of 5 fats can’t work on 1 salary and whatnot. So when people start demanding I get jobs, the only time I ever really looked for jobs was in A State after a big fight with my parents. I get like... triggered now whenever my husband is like Hey, maybe if we teach you Japanese you can get a job in Japan! Just immediately want to panic, get angry, and/or cry. So I worry that our friend’s wife is giving him a different kind of complex about jobs and work. Especially after she’s the one that encouraged him to quit his job, since she’s now pissy about the fact that he doesn’t have one.

But then there’s the small things like her being a manic pixie dream girl like coming over while he’s on a discord voice chat with us to say my husband is a Cheeto. When my husband is understandably confused, says he is like the Essesnce of Cheeto. Or when Classic WoW first dropped, our friend was trying to get back into it with us because it’s a bit of a unifying nostalgia game for our friendgroup, she kept showing up and being annoying in the background like showing up with their cat in a dinosaur costume. He even sounded mildly annoyed and asked her to stop because he doesn’t get to spend much time with us.

Which, you know, isolation from friends is classic abuse. But he has access to other friends that are not us. So its possible that she just doesn’t approve of his video game hobby when it involves us. Which, our friend isn’t a big fan of me personally, so I assume she might just be trying to save him from hanging out with me. I have achieved low self-esteem lately, having the clarity to replay interactions and say Ah, I was sounding real aggressive and bitchy, maybe that’s why people hate me. Or, in the middle of telling a story when I am met with silence, my brain works fast enough to say THEY CAN’T EXTRAPOLATE, YOU GOTTA FINISH STRONG, so I do and I get the laughs and I say I did it, I won, I’m going to get a good grade. But my sister also monopolized my time in a way that made it impossible for me to make or keep friends, and even got pissed when I was trying to make new friends because the friend I was trying to make was a guy that she was trying to fuck and my presence was a cockblock. Story for another time.

Or the time that our friend, because of his construction job, worked very early in the morning and thus was very tired in the evening. But his wife wanted to go to a screening of The Room and rather than let him stay home or maybe just don’t go, they went to this screening and our friend had to stay up for like 24hours. She’s the one that encouraged him to quit, pushed him into getting a new job, and then still asked to go to the movie knowing he was exhausted? Like... I wouldn’t have even considered it a possibility or I would ask a thousand times if he was sure or if he wanted a nap or something.

But, you know, I’m biased. I have a hard time being friends with women that are significant others of our friendgroup. I want everyone to be supportive and kind, into the same hobbies, willing to engage, maybe not be super weird. But I think I just want that in everyone. Which is probably my I have so few friends myself. I have high standards. I’m trying to lower those by being aware of them. Which means people like Amber are now counted among my friends.

Point of this post, though, is to ascertain my level of incorrectness. How wrong am I about their relationship? Lemme know.