#already wasn’t the most mentally stable

[1phakephan]

🗣️🗣️ pov dan and phil base their pizza selection in part 2 of their iconic mukbang video on their hatred for the detroit pizza company that almost ruined your life

[peachdues]

KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOR

WIND AND MOON • Sanemi x tsuguko!Reader

A/N: or, Sanemi nearly murders Maeda to protect Reader’s honor, featuring Reader getting to wear Sanemi’s haori.

A snippet from an upcoming chapter of Wind and Moon.

CW: MDNI • light strangulation (deserved) • implied past sexual assault against Reader (not described) • implied assault of Sanemi’s mother (not described) • protective Sanemi • soft Sanemi • ust kiss already jfc • violence

Sanemi Shinazugawa was never particularly keen on visiting the Corps’ tailor. His hatred for the bespeckled seamster was no secret among the slayers, nor was his reasoning. Most of the Corps disliked Maeda — particularly those female slayers forced to endure his unwanted attentions, who, when presented with too-small and too-short garments, saw his feigned incompetence for what it was: perversion.

Sanemi, however, was the one of the only few who’d ever called him out directly for being a lecherous asshole. And he certainly was one of the only ones who Maeda genuinely feared — enough so, that he became remarkably adept at his job whenever he heard so much as a whisper of the Wind Pillar’s presence.

And yet, Sanemi knew that their previous encounter — one that ended with Maeda pissing his pants while begging for forgiveness Sanemi had been in no position to give as the female slayer he’d groped stood nearby, red faced and humiliated — didn’t seem to have inspired the tailor to make any permanent changes to his deviant habits.

So no, Sanemi was already not in the best of moods as he stalked through the hallways of the Butterfly Mansion, in search of the fitting rooms where Kocho had informed him Maeda would be fitting his new tsuguko — you — for your final uniform.

He was wryly optimistic that the lecherous tailor wouldn’t try anything knowing who you were and of your proximity to him. But still, Sanemi didn’t like that he’d left you alone with Maeda for any period of time, and he was eager to get you suited up so the two of you could return to training.

Training. Sanemi had been warned that your breathing techniques, though powerful, were about as stable as a barrel of gun powder near a lit match. He would need to prioritize your precision, your control, before moving onto anything to do with your actual movements and fighting abilities.

He scowled. It would be a long day, he knew. You had an attitude and a smart mouth he was fairly sure couldn’t be beaten out of you, and grudgingly, he thought he might have to just endure it. You’d probably spend most of your time bitching; of that he was certain. But unluckily for you, you’d been assigned to the Hashira with the least amount of sympathy when it came to training; one whose disdain for complaining was rivaled only by Iguro’s.

At least he only worked his trainees to the point of vomiting or passing out; Iguro tortured the poor bastards, and he relished doing so.

And so, Sanemi began mentally tallying up the various exercises and tasks the two of you would undertake as he rounded the last corner leading to the fitting rooms. He would start with breathing techniques, he decided as he reached for the doorknob. Breathing techniques, and then physical exercises — pushups, planks, perhaps even over a bed of tacks for motivation, and then —

All of the Wind Pillar’s internal planning ground to a halt the moment he swung the door to the dressing room open. In an instant, all thoughts of endurance and strength-enhancing regiments dissolved as Sanemi’s vision turned crimson at what lay before him.

His tsuguko; and though you’d proven yourself more than capable of testing his patience, for once, it wasn’t your smart mouth that was making him see red.

It was the sight of you, standing up on a small pedestal before a great mirror, clothed in scraps of fabric that could hardly be called a uniform as the Corp’s perverted tailor circled you like a vulture does a piece of felled prey.

He didn’t need to look at you for long before his vision tunneled in on the seamster startling back from you as though burned, his eyes wide with fear as he stared at the reddening face of the Wind Hashira behind you.

Because Sanemi didn’t have to linger; he’d seen enough to know.

Your skirt hung a solid inch shorter than even the Love Hashira’s, its hem barely extending past the tops of your thighs. Your shirt was easily two or three sizes too small, preventing you from fastening anything but the bottom two buttons.

But it wasn’t the egregiously little coverage of your uniform that loosened the lid he tried to keep on his rage. It was your face. Though your back was facing him, he could see every inch of you — exposed as you were — reflected in that great mirror.

There was a rigidity in your limbs that Sanemi clocked instantly as paralysis; and the empty, haunted look in your eyes as they fixed wide and unseeing at some distant point on the floor coupled with the way you’d hadn’t so much as flinched when the door flung open signaled to him that you were not truly present in that room at all.

You were back at your family’s estate, blood-soaked and half-dead as you were forced to endure whatever it was those bandits had take upon themselves to do.

And Sanemi disappeared from the room right along with you. In that moment, he instead saw the countless other female slayers forced to endure Maeda’s greedy, wandering fingers over the years as they stood exposed under his beady little eyes.

He saw his mother turning rigid under his father’s too heavy, too rough hands as he dragged them down her body. Ma, who would force her mouth into that distant, practiced smile she always maintained in front of her children who were too young to understand why Kyogo dragged her by arm out the back of their home as he barked at them to stay inside until she returned.

He saw you; broken and bleeding in the snow, your clothes askew, unable to be left alone even in death; used.

Red. Red. Sanemi could only see red as his feet carried him across the floor.

“M-Master Shinazugawa!” Maeda squeaked as he began trembling; loud enoufh for his voice to carry down the hall, a futile effort to alert any nearby Corps members of the rage burning in Sanemi’s eyes as the latter advanced on him. “How w-wonderful it is to see you a-gain —!”

With nothing but a faint buzzing in his ears and an anger-numbed mind, Sanemi’s hand snatched the tailor around his throat before he could think the better of it.

“I thought I made myself pretty damn clear the last time I saw your ugly mug of the need for you to keep those filthy fuckin’ hands to yourself.”

Sanemi’s voice was a barely more than a growl, low and dangerous and vicious. “And I thought I told you what would happen if I caught you makin’ a mockery out of our uniform again.”

The seamster’s cheeks were rapidly turning purple as Maeda sputtered. But Sanemi only tightened his hold around the tailor’s throat, lifting him from the ground until his toes only scraped along the floorboards.

“Y’know, I’ve had to hold my tongue for far too fuckin’ long about you.” Sanemi cocked his head in consideration. A slow, wolfish smile stretched across his mouth, all sharp teeth and a vicious promise that he could and would rip out his throat. “But you’ve got some balls for someone who’s too much of a rutting coward to fight the demons we give our lives to exterminate.”

A crowd of curious and horrified junior slayers had gathered out in the hall, nervously watching as the Wind Pillar threatened to squeeze the life out of the Corp’s sole tailor.

Behind them, you remained frozen on the pedestal, though your eyes had shifted away from the floor, focusing instead on him.

Sanemi wrenched the tailor closer until they were nearly nose-to-nose, his fingers digging harshly into the soft, fleshy portion of the tailor’s neck. “And you dare make a mockery out of our uniform? You think I’m okay that you’re putting female slayers at risk by not giving them proper protection? What sort of person does that to their comrades?”

Sanemi’s pupils shrank to pinpricks. “You’re not even fuckin’ human. You’re no better than a god damn demon.”

The muscles in the Wind Pillar’s forearm rippled as his fingers crushed around Maeda’s throat. “And we’re required to put demons outta their fuckin’ misery. So, whaddya think that means for you, shitstain?”

There was a distinct wet dripping against the floorboards as Sanemi remained there, Maeda suspended before him.

Sanemi didn’t need to look down to know what it was; its scent alone was enough of a give away.

Urine.

That feral grin of his only widened. Good, Sanemi thought savagely. The bastard should fear for his life. And who gave a shit, really, if he took out the creep right then and there. It didn’t matter that he was the only tailor in their ranks capable of manufacturing their uniforms with speed and precision. Sanemi would trade his sword in for a needle, if it meant wiping away the stain that was Maeda.

But Sanemi’s wild, murderous rage was tempered by the sudden arrival of the Insect Pillar, who had appeared in the room in a blink of an eye, her small hand wrapped harshly around Sanemi’s wrist.

Her voice was hard and severe as she ordered, “Shinazugawa, stop!”

Sanemi only snarled in response, his hand squeezing tighter and tighter. Just a little more pressure and it would be over, Maeda would never harm another woman again —

Kocho wrenched on his arm once more. While her strength wasn’t enough to force his grip to relax, it did jostle Sanemi enough that he looked away, just long enough to catch the pair of eyes that watched him closely in the mirror.

Your eyes.

Sanemi found himself unable to look away as the two of you stared at one another in the mirror’s reflection. And though that haunted look remained, there was a newfound tightness in your gaze.

Pain, he recognized. There was pain in your eyes, too. And suddenly, Sanemi became all too aware of the fact you were still exposed, only now in front of a greater number of your comrades than before.

Sanemi held your eyes for one more moment before his hand opened around Maeda’s throat.

“Pissed himself like a little bitch.” He sneered, dropping the lecherous tailor to the ground where he crumbled like a napkin.

Maeda sputtered and heaved on the floor, color rapidly returning to his face as he gasped for breath.

Sanemi only looked after him with disgust.

The Butterfly Mansion’s mistress turned sharply toward the entryway. “Away.” She ordered before she turned back. But the instant the word left her lips, the gaggle of junior Corps members who had congregated in the hallway dispersed.

Sanemi cut his eyes to the Insect Hashira and saw a cold rage simmering in her eyes. Eyes that were not looking at him, but were instead glued to the sniveling mass on the floor, whimpering into a puddle of his own urine.

“P-please, forgive me, Master Shinazugawa! I must have packed the wrong uniform — I will sew a n-new one right away —“

“Save it,” Sanemi spat. “And get the fuck outta my sight.”

Though he wanted add in a kick for good measure, Sanemi held back. He was likely in deep enough shit as it was, once word reached the Master about what he’d done. He knew better than to continue testing the Corps’ limits.

Kocho inclined her head back toward the Wind Pillar. “I will see to it that a new uniform is prepared for her immediately.”

She made to step primly over Maeda’s shuddering form, but halted.

Kocho crouched down, low. “I think we both know that you’re better off keeping this to yourself and never mentioning it again, hm?”

Maeda turned his reddened face up toward the Insect Pillar and shrank under her withering glare.

Kocho’s answering smile was nothing but poisoned honey as she dropped her eyes to the wet stain that soaked the front of Maeda’s trousers. “If you wish to hold onto what’s precious to you, that is.”

She narrowed her eyes coldly, as though squinting for something, before she rose with a faint scoff, her threat hanging over Maeda like a cloud.

The Insect Hashira turned back to Sanemi. “I trust you will see yourselves out?”

Sanemi felt a rush of gratitude toward his comrade — likely only one of two among the Pillars who wouldn’t rat him out to the Master — and curtly nodded his head.

Kocho only gave him her usual, practiced smile. “Until next time, then.”

With that, the mistress of the Butterfly Estate departed. The moment the edge of her haori flapped around the corner of the doorway, Sanemi dropped his attention down to Maeda.

“Fuck off.”

The tailor made not a peep as he scrambled to his feet and he left the dressing room without a word.

——

Finally left alone, Sanemi turned to you.

“Y/N.”

You blinked, surprised. He’d addressed you by your first name — something that, until this moment, you’d been fairly sure he hadn’t known.

You made some noise in response, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, exposed as you are.

Shinazugawa didn’t seem to mind. “Let’s go.”

While you were just as eager to get the hell out of the dressing room and away from the Butterfly Mansion, you remained rooted in place upon that platform.

Not a moment had passed since Maeda had first unveiled your new attire that you hadn’t been acutely aware of your own exposure.

You gulped and cast your eyes around the room. You found the neat pile of the clothes you’d worn for the trip here folded in the corner of the dressing area. While Shinazugawa had made a point to keep his eyes on everything but you, you couldn’t fathom having to wear the scrap of a uniform you’d been given for the entire journey back to his estate.

But nor did you want to change again; you couldn’t, not when that would require you to be left alone, a possibility that seemed nearly as daunting as having to brave the trek home in little more than a loincloth.

You agonized over your options, especially as you felt Shinazugawa’s impatience mount. You shifted anxiously from foot to foot, arms wrapped tightly around your chest in a desperate attempt to keep your breasts concealed as you struggled to make the words — any words, really, dislodge from where they’d become stuck in your throat.

Annoyed by your lack of inaction, Shinazugawa looked back into the mirror. In its reflection, you saw him open his mouth, ready to snap at you, but the moment his eyes connected with yours, it closed.

An understanding passed between you right then, as heavy the silence that hung between you.

Shinazugawa considered you for a moment before his hands went to the front folds of his haori. A strange shyness fell over you while he shrugged out of it, causing you to drop your gaze as he rounded the pedestal, haori in hand.

He shoved the ball of white fabric at you, though he kept his gaze fixed pointedly at the ground. “Here. Use this to cover up.”

Timidly, you plucked the Wind Pillar’s haori from his outstretched hand and quickly turned away.

Though it sat cropped on him, the hem of Shinazugawa’s haori extended past the laughably short one of your skirt, providing your backside with a bearable degree of coverage.

It was warm; and to your surprise, it smelled nice, a familiar, grassy sweetness washing over you as you pushed your arm through one of the holes.

Shinazugawa had turned his back to you, his hands notched firmly on his hips as he waited. You tested the reach of his haori, relieved to find that you could wrap it around your front and hold it easily in place by folding your arms across your chest.

You glanced at your reflection in the mirror. The white fabric reached a good three inches down your thighs, all vulnerable areas sufficiently covered.

It would do, you decided. At least until you returned to the Wind Pillar’s estate.

“I’m ready.” You said softly after a moment. Shinazugawa only looked back at you and nodded, before the two of you quietly made your way through and out the Butterfly Estate, setting down the path that led home.

Neither of you spoke for the entire journey. Instead, you were left to stare at the broad expanse Shinazugawa’s back.

The Wind Pillar wore a slightly modified version of the Corps’ uniform, you realized. His top was sleeveless and without the presence of his haori, you saw that his biceps and shoulders were just as solid and well-defined as the rest of him.

No wonder he’d been able to lift Maeda so easily from the ground; Shinazugawa’s biceps were huge. Though, you noted with some mild interest, the skin of his arms was just as scar-specked as the rest of him.

Idly, you wondered whether the scars dotting his face and body were products of his years with the Corps — a tapestry of battles hard-won, or whether they, like yours, were part of a past he wished he could forget.

You arrived back at the Wind Pillar’s estate shortly before sunset. The moment he set foot inside the gate surrounding his manor, Shinazugawa turns to you and holds up a hand.

“Wait here.”

Without another word, he disappears inside of his manor, leaving you alone in the courtyard, slightly bemused.

The Wind Pillar returned a few moments later, a familiar, dark green fabric draped over his hand.

“Here,” he held out the material to you. “Still had one from when I was a Mizunoto. Might not fit you properly, but it’s better than nothin’.”

You accept his offering and then it over in your hands, eyes running over the crisp white destroy sewn into the back. Below the shirt is a pair of pants, in the same, dark-green tinted hue as the shirt.

“I know it doesn’t mean much,” Shinazugawa’s voice was gruff as he spoke. Curious, you lifted your eyes to find him rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck. “But if I’d’ve known what he was gonna pull —“

You shook your head. “Don’t. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Truthfully, you didn’t want his apologies. To apologize meant there’d been an expectation, and expectation meant there’d been some trust he’d broken. While he may have been your master — while he may have been the one whose face you could not forget from that day — nothing about either of those things meant he owed you anything.

Shinazugawa looked like he was going to argue, but he closed his mouth and turned away.

Good, you thought. At least he knew to pick his battles.

“We’ll start training once you get your uniform in.” He said after a moment, turning away to retreat into his estate. “Get settled here and once it arrives, we’ll start.”

You nod, your fingers clenching tightly around the front folds of his haori. Though you know you’re safe out here, that Shinazugawa has no interest in overstepping any of your boundaries, you still feel too exposed.

More than anything, you want to retreat to your small room at the back wing of his manor, and disappear under your covers.

The Wind Pillar seems to know, for he only gives you a curt nod, before he turns back to the great, sprawling Estate, and takes the entry stairs up two at a time.

You wait a moment before following. You’ll have to figure out how to return him his haori, you realize. Perhaps you’ll drop it off at his room later in the night, when he’s likely to be asleep, or maybe you’ll wait until breakfast —

“Y/N.”

Your foot halted mid-air as you lifted your head to him, waiting.

Shinazugawa lingered on his engawa, though he kept his back to you.

“I won’t leave you alone with another man again. That’s a promise.”

You wanted to snap at him that he shouldn’t do this — he shouldn’t create obligations that he couldn’t or wouldn’t keep. That was the only way this transaction between the two of you would work; Shinazugawa would train you and once you’d gathered enough of a grip over your own abilities, you’d fuck out of his life and pursue your own, greater ambitions.

That’s what you should say, and yet, his words strike at something soft in you. Reminds you, once again that for whatever reason, he is someone you can rely upon; someone you can trust.

The exception.

And it’s because of that, you only respond, “Thank you.”

[marlsswrites]

June 28th <3

Lawyer - @jegulus-microfic - words: 1124

Most people say getting into a car with Barty Crouch Jr was a horrible idea, a death wish. God knows how Barty even got his license, Regulus doesn’t even remember him taking the test.

But he was in dire need for a lift to work, and of course all of his mentally stable friends were busy. So who did he get stuck with? Barty.

He drives like a fucking child on Mario cart, Regulus is sure that video came was the only driving training that boy ever got. He’s quite literally a maniac. The car scoots to the left, to the right, it jolts, it speeds up. The amount of dents and scratches Barty’s car has is horrific, his dad should not have bought him a Tesla, anyone should know that this is what happens when you give Barty control of a car.

That’s why Regulus was rather surprised when they were driving down a quaint little street, Barty had managed to not hit anyone’s pet cat yet which was a good sign, and it was as steady as Barty could get behind a wheel.

“Surprisingly, this doesn’t feel like a rollercoaster. Well done Barty.” Regulus snorted. “It’s a miracle you haven’t hit anyone yet.”

“I’m not that bad, Reggie.” Barty spoke as he turned to the side to give Regulus an unimpressed look, taking both of his hands off the to flip him the middle finger for way too long to be safe.

That’s when Barty’s car slipped to the side, and a loud thump echoed from outside the car.

Barty instantly pulled the brake and gaped at the windshield. “Fuck!”

“Shit, BARTY!” Regulus hissed as he undid his seatbelt to go and see who they hit and how bad it was, shortly followed by Barty.

He was greeted with the sight of a tan man, with messy hair and a red Liverpool football shirt on. There was a bike hung over his leg and he looked unconscious, Regulus hoped it wasn’t any worse than that.

Barty gasped next to him and shook his shoulders. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Is he dead? We’re gonna need a lawyer!” He screeched.

“There’s no we in this situation, you were the one driving!”

“You insulted me! That’s distracting!”

“We need to get him to the hospital.” Regulus spoke after a few deep breaths and rants from Barty about being ‘too mean that it kills people.’

“How?” Barty squeaked.

“Uh-“

-

So that is how Regulus found himself slouched down in an uncomfortable hospital chair, unsure of what to do and how he ended up taking a stranger whose name he didn’t even know to the hospital.

“Hi I’m Doctor Lupin-“ The doctor started as he walked into the room, greeting both Barty and Regulus with a nod. “James?” He gaped as he looked at the man on the hospital bed, he watched Barty shrink further into the chair as the doctor looked back to them both. “What happened?”

“Well-“ Regulus started with a sigh.

“-He fell off his bike.” Barty finished for him. “Looked pretty bad, think he hit his head.” He carried on, nodding his head sympathetically, completely adamant to Regulus’ harsh glares. “We took him here, seemed like the right thing to do. Right Reg?”

Regulus gave a defeated look and nodded alongside Barty. “Yep.” He sighed.

Doctor Lupin nodded, walking over to the bed to do some checks on the man they hit, named James apparently.

-

“He should be awake within the next hour. Could one of you watch him, tell him Remus will come talk to him soon? I would stay, but I’ve got other patients.” Doctor Lupin asked.

Regulus felt bad enough as it is, and he’s technically not even the one who hit him with a car. He did lie about it though, ah well, what’s another scratch on his already shitty consciousness?

“Yeah, of course.”

“Great, call me over when he wakes up.” And with that Doctor Lupin left, leaving Regulus and Barty alone at the strangers bedside.

Barty stared at the man for a while longer, then looked to Regulus. “He’s really your type, you know?” He said as he pointed his head towards the sleeping man.

“Barty, he’s literally unconscious.” Regulus hissed in return.

“But you think he’s cute?”

“Might be… mildly attractive.” Regulus shrugged. “But don’t be a weirdo, we don’t know him.”

Pointing a finger at him and gasping, Barty smiled triumphantly. “He admits it!”

-

After ten minutes of waiting, the two decided to come up with a life story for this cute random man.

“He looks our age, so a uni student.” Barty pointed out.

“He’s studying creative writing but plays football on the side.” Regulus thought back to his red Liverpool shirt.

Barty hummed in agreement. “Definitely a trust fund baby.”

“Only child.” Regulus added.

“Probably has nice parents.” Barty commented.

“Unlike us.” The two said at the same time with a snort.

Stopping to think about his next response, Barty did the same. “Has a perfect, farm girl type girlfriend.”

Barty let out a laugh. “Bingo.”

Regulus snapped his head to the side at the sound of a yawn and shuffle. “Actually we broke up last month, turns out she likes girls. You got the rest pretty spot on though.” He said with a casual smile and then paused with a short blink. “Wait, who are you?”

“That idiot hit you with a car.” Regulus pointed at Barty.

“Reg! You’re not supposed to say that.” He hissed in a slightly too loud whisper. “Don’t sue us.” Barty said with a sheepish smile.

The man sat in shock while the two bickered. “Us? You hit him! I was an innocent bystander, nothing more.” Regulus retorted.

Raising his hands in surrender, the man on the bed let out a soft laugh. It was a lovely laugh, Regulus felt the heat rising to his cheeks. Fucks sake, he didn’t even know the man and it already felt like the sun was beating down on him when he smiled. “I won’t sue you, it doesn’t seem that bad honestly, I think I just passed out and got a few bruises.”

“Really?” Regulus and Barty spoke at once.

“Actually I will sue you.” James smirked, placing his head on the palm of his hand and looking straight at Regulus with his gorgeous, hazel, wide, doe eyes. “For your number.”

He heard Barty choke out a shocked laugh next to him as he felt his eyebrows raise in shock, the already obvious flush on his once pale cheeks reddening even more.

“I’m James by the way.” The brunette grinned.

Regulus smiled fondly and nodded, a loose Black curl falling in front of his grey eyes as he did so. “Regulus.”

[raceweek]

Drop the podcast bestie! (Please)

it’s the high performance podcast (you have to download their app to get it for free right now but it will be available for free soon on regular platforms) - in case anyone doesn’t want to download the app but wants to know some of the things alex talked about:

- for context he recorded the first part of the podcast initially and talked a lot about his struggles at red bull and what he went through as a teenager and then went back to the podcast hosts and said actually can we do a part two bc i want to talk about how im coping better now

- he says he isolated himself from all of his friends when everything was happening with his mum and he became an introverted person and still carries that introvertedness with him now from going through that time

- alex was told he was promoted to red bull when he went to see helmut in austria to talk about the practicalities of his move to monaco and just as the meeting ended helmut said oh by the way ur in the red bull seat, here’s the number for ur engineer maybe speak to him but also actually u can’t bc the factory is closed for summer but yeah ur going to be announced in about two hours. bye

- he says he didn’t enjoy being a driver in 2020 at all. literally said he was destroyed. he spoke about the pressure and how he deleted his social media due to the incessant mocking but he also felt like even though he had done that he couldn’t avoid it because although he didn’t see it directly he’d just be asked about it on media day every week anyway

- he was asked about what help was offered to him in 2020 when he was struggling and whilst he said the team cared there wasn’t really anything or anyone to help him. alex and his trainer patrick got their own psychologist towards the end of 2020 and then in 2021 when alex was out of the sport he assembled a team of his own who weren’t the most experienced but who he knew cared for him and would fight to the death for him (said he took jacques from red bull to be his manager because he always fought his corner no matter how tough the situation was)

- he was told about being dropped by horner in a meeting at the end of the season but he already knew because it had been posted in the media before they’d even met

- he described 2021 as a really weird time as he needed to boost his stock with red bull and all the other teams but to do that he needed to give as much as he possibly could to improve the car he had just been kicked out of, so when max said at pre season testing that the car was so much more stable it was a strange feeling knowing that that’s what he needed and he wasn’t able to do anything with it

- he compiled a sexy spreadsheet for team principals in the paddock showing that as much as he struggled in 2020 he was on reflection closer to max pace wise than maxs’ current teammate and maxs’ teammate before alex

- when asked to describe where he is now he said he’s happier than he’s ever been. he’s driving better than ever and is mentally in the best headspace he’s ever been in

- he says he comes up with scenarios in his head from the last 4/5 years and as soon as he has a sort of deja vu struggle moment he uses it to show himself he’s overcome that hurdle

- he said the older he gets the more he doesn’t feel the need to write things down the way he used to because he feels more confident in himself

- the best piece of advice he’s ever received is from franz tost who said “alex if there’s one thing you need to learn about formula one it’s don’t give a fuck” and he said he didn’t really understand it until he started struggling and then he realised that he cared too much

- when asked about what advice he would give to teenage alex now he said it’s hard because he isn’t the most confident now and he knows teenage alex wouldn’t listen bc his parents would always try and fill him with confidence so he said he’d try and shake younger him and tell him that it’s true what they’re telling you

[blues824]

Hello. Can I request Muzan, Douma, Akaza, Daki and Gyutaro (separately) with human S/O, who willingly help them for two reasons: first, their love towards them, and second, the fact that they f*cking hate people (lol, I really shouldn't watch YGOTAS that much)?

I am so sorry for how late this is. Also, imma make it so that you are married to them because I had no idea how else to execute this. Also also, kind of OOC, but eh.

Also also also, I hate people as well. All my readers are exceptions tho.

Muzan Kibutsuji

“My love, why are you so willing to help me?” He asked after you already went through most of his task list by yourself. You were even willing to lay down your own life for him if it ever came to that point. But why??

“Well, because I love you. In our wedding vows, I vowed that I would support you in any way that I could. I also just hate people” You responded honestly. Even if you had a horrible past, people just sucked in general.

Muzan seemed satisfied by your answer, responding by putting his hands on the side of your waist and pulling you in for a kiss. It was small moments like these with your husband that you treasured the most.

“Darling, on our wedding day, you looked so ethereal. As if you were a snow monarch in the midst of the stars of the night sky” He whispered into your ear. He always managed to make your heart squeeze in adoration for him.

“And you looked so unbelievably handsome, I was nervous about tripping on the aisle because I was so distracted.” You giggled as you looked into your husband’s eyes. He had a smile gracing his lips. It wasn’t normal for you both to be seen as lovey-dovey, but that doesn’t mean it never happens

Douma 

As a result of being joined together in matrimony, it only made sense that his followers became your followers as well. While being praised as a deity definitely has its perks, it was a lot to get used to in such a short amount of time. Especially if you weren’t particularly fond of humankind.

“Y/N, how are you adjusting to being the spouse of a highly worshiped demon?” He asked with a smile. We all know that he’s genuinely apathetic, but when he saw you for the first time… Alexa, play This Is What Falling In Love Feels Like by JVKE. 

“It’s a lot to adjust to, if I’m being honest. All the worship is a lot to handle. You know how much I don’t like people” You let out a weak laugh as you gave him your answer. He had a frown on his face as you said it. He pulled you into a hug and placed a kiss on your temple.

“On our very special day, I vowed that I would protect you and provide for you. If you don’t tell me these things, then I’m not doing my job as your husband.” He whispered to you. He felt like he failed you. Why wouldn’t you tell him something like this?

“You are doing a wonderful job as my husband, honey. It’s your followers that are the problem. I understand that you would get praise, but I would rather not have it.” Douma made a mental note to warn his followers that if they were so much as to breathe in your direction from now on, they would meet their end.

Akaza

He has forgotten what the word home meant before he met you. You were just so loving and you acted like his rock that kept him stable. You gave him a purpose other than becoming stronger. This is how he knew that he absolutely needed to marry you. However, you were still human.

“Baby, do you ever miss your family?” He asked as he saw you making something in the kitchen of your shared home. Times like these are times he can mistake you both as being a normal married couple in a normal house with normal lives. 

“You are my family.” You didn’t look up, instead you continued chopping the vegetables you were making for the stew. You knew that Akaza wasn’t able to consume it, but you were still human. “You’re the only one I need.”

“Yes, but before me you had a life with your friends and family. Surely you must miss them, or at least hold some resentment towards me?” You always hated when he would get insecure because he never saw how great he treated you compared to the people from your past.

“If I had to choose between you and my family, I would choose you no matter what. We made a vow to stick with each other for better, for worse, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health.” He seemed happy with your answer, as he gave you a kiss on your shoulder and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind.

Daki

We all know how much of a child she is, but when you agreed to marry her, it increased by a lot. She became super clingy because of her past. However, you don’t mind. I mean, you knew you would never be treated horribly by her because of it. But she still has her insecurities.

“Sweetie, why are you still with me? You’re human, and you had a life before I took you away from it.” She ended her tangent with a sad sigh. It pained you to see her so blue, so you knelt in front of her and took her hands in yours.

“I’m still with you because we’re married and it’s not that easy to leave. I also love you and hate humans.” You said with a soft smile. Memories of your wedding day flashed through your mind: your wife (then fiance) was so beautiful in the white kimono. Gyutaro was sobbing in the front.

“If you could, would you ever go back?” She asked. She had never felt so sad, because she knew that she originally didn’t really give you a choice in the whole matter. Wasn’t marriage supposed to be a mutual agreement between both parties?

“Absolutely not. Instead, I would go back so that I could be the one to ask you to marry me. I love you, Daki. I wouldn’t give up what we have for the world.” You whispered. She had shed a few tears during your ‘speech’. Then she pulled you into her lap (she’s strong, your size doesn’t matter) and squeezed you tightly.

Gyutaro

If you think Daki was clingy, you haven’t seen anything yet. Sure at first he was extremely distant, but when you reassured him that you weren’t leaving he held on for dear life. If his hand isn’t in yours, his whole arm is around your waist.

“Baby, why don’t you leave me? You’ve always stuck by my side, but why?” Even if he was super powerful, he still had those days of doubt. And on those days, you would make him lay his head in your lap and run your fingers through his hair while you tell him the reasons why you love him.

“Let’s see… because you’re the most handsome, loving, amazing husband that I could ever ask for. You protect me, love me, and make good on your promises to me that you made at our wedding.” With each thing you listed, Gyutaro’s blush worsened more and more.

“But you could do so much better than settling down with me. You’re graceful, kind, and a good listener.” He rambled on and on. Once he got going, it was hard for him to stop. It saddened you that you couldn’t just reach in and extract all self-deprecating thoughts from his mind.

“Gyu, I chose you for a reason. If I didn’t want to marry you, I wouldn’t have said yes when you proposed. I wouldn’t have said I do after our vows. I love you, Gyutaro. Now, accept it.” You jokingly threatened. You always knew how to make him feel better.

[awkward-tension-art]

Darkness on Umbara Chp.8 (Rex x Reader)

Chapter 7. Chapter 9.

Moment to Breathe

cw: Rex x Reader, Reader is a medic, incorrect military procedure, graphic descriptions of injuries, blood, swearing, death and battle, Spoilers for the Umbara Arc, Pong Krell is an asshole, reader insert, names of non-canon dead clones, Mentions of breakdowns, transwoman clone, Brief mention of inhibitor chips, reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), if i miss a tag LMK

Minors DNI

In the end, you had to be sedated.

When Rex was called to continue the fight at the airbase with the reinforcements, you panicked so badly Kix had to inject you to calm you down. 

Luckily, your mind wasn’t clouded and you still had your wits about you. You were still able to treat the wounded, but you didn’t miss how Jesse opted to ‘guard’ you and Kix as you managed to transfer all the wounded into the airbase’s medical facility. 

It was clear he wanted to keep an eye on you since Rex couldn’t. And, truthfully, this was the first time you’d had such a breakdown in front of the men. Kix had his own, when Tup tackled him, so the trooper most likely thought both medics of the 501st were unstable. 

Even if you were, you did your jobs.

The fight was chaotic as the Umbarans battled for their facility. Luckily, with both Jesse and Kix, you got every injured trooper into the safety of the medical bay before the fighting was even done. 

They didn’t have bacta tanks, but they had much needed supplies you used to save everyone you could. Not nearly enough for everyone if Krell decided to pull another suicide mission, but enough to help those that needed it right now.

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Zeke. Jumper. Aura. Dia. Silk. 

By the time Krell had joined the soldiers, you and Kix hadn’t lost anyone else. You got the troopers stable, laying on cots, and sleeping as peacefully as they could. Those who didn’t require life sustaining equipment were sent to the barracks of the airbase to rest. 

You and Kix stepped outside once you both were done with the wounded. Jesse had been keeping a steady guard by the door, preventing anyone uninjured from coming inside and disturbing you.

The airbase belonged to the 501st. 

Umbarans who hadn’t died fighting, were led to prison cells somewhere else within the base. Several squads were already walking around, inspecting the Umbaran weaponry. A few were going through crates of supplies, such as weapons and ammo.

You remained silent as you followed Kix and Jesse through the base. The three of you met up with Rex, Fives and Hardcase. There was pride in your lover’s eyes as he spoke to the heroic pilots, “despite Hardcase’s flying, you two saved us all.” 

Hardcase sounded as proud and energized as always, “It wasn’t so tough.”

“You sure?” Jesse took off his helmet with a smirk, “You looked a little green when you came out of that fighter.” He teased the hyperactive trooper. All of them were in a good mood, finding the shred of happiness after such casualties. 

You wished you could feel the same pride and happiness. But your mental state, as well as the sedatives in your blood prevented it. 

“Mesh’la,” Rex turned to you, “Are you ok?” 

“No losses since we took the airbase.” you responded, blatantly ignoring his question about you, “The seriously injured are stable and resting in the med bay.”

“That's not-.”

“Captain,” His words were loudly cut off by Krell. The temporary General stomped towards you all, looking as displeased as ever. Appo was tailing him along with another trooper, “Report, what is our situation?”

The 501st captain stepped forward, “General, we have taken the base and cut off enemy supply lines to the capital.” His back was straight, standing at attention, as did the others. 

You…remained behind Fives, staying out of the Jedi’s line of sight. If Krell turned his ire to you, you couldn’t promise you wouldn’t do something to get yourself court-martialed.

The besliska raised a large hand and rubbed his chin, “Luck has smiled on you today, Captain.” His tone sounded smug, “Consider yourself fortunate.” 

“It wasn't all luck sir,” Rex kept calm and steady, not letting Krell get to him, “A lot of men died to take this base.”

Too many good men. You thought blankly. A part of you felt hollow and empty as the captain mentioned the lost souls.

The General raised his hands, and looked at the dark sky, “A price for such victory.” He looked back down and crossed two of his four arms, “Perhaps you’ll realize this.”

You didn’t miss Rex’s fist clenching in rage. Your lover’s fury was a rare sight. But dammit, Krell was doing a good job at bringing it out. Instead of lashing out however, he took a breath and lowered his head.

The Jedi turned and began to walk away, “Dismissed.”

You and Fives stepped forward. You placed your hand on Rex’s shoulder as the ARC trooper grumbled, “He’s the one who will never realize.”

You remained silent, only squeezing Rex’s shoulder before letting go. You turned and began to walk back to the medical bay, unable to be around anyone right now. 

At least those in the medical facility were unconscious. 

Once the doors opened, you were surprised to see a trooper. Hana, had been waiting for you, holding a bloody wrist, “Sorry to bother, Doc. One of the bastards were hiding and jumped me.”

You motioned for the trooper to sit down on an open cot, “Are sutures alright?” You wanted to save bandages and bacta. Just in case Krell tried to kill anyone else. 

Hana nodded, resting the injury on one of the small medical cabinets that were placed next to every bed. You pulled a chair, set the suture kit down, and immediately got to work.

During your stitching, you took notice of distinguishable features, since this was the first time you’ve seen the trooper without a helmet. White nail polish, small studs for earrings, hair pulled back into a bun, indicating length longer than ‘military standard’. 

You didn’t want to assume, but it wasn’t unheard of for there to be sisters among the troopers.

“Hana.” you spoke softly, “I like your nails. And your earrings.” It was a small push, one to ask the question without assuming.

Hana’s surprised look then relieved smile told you all you needed to know. She responded quietly, “I know it's not regulation, but…”

“Who cares about regulation?” You returned her smile, noticing that she also wore waterproof mascara, “If it's what you want, then no one should stop you.” Your suturing was almost done.

Hana nodded, looking at her nails on the hand you weren’t stitching up. Impressively, they weren’t chipped, “I might go blue, next time.” She murmured, “so I keep matching the 501st.”

“Why not paint one hand blue and the other white?” You suggested, deciding to use a patch to cover the sutures, “Something unique.”

It was nice, having a conversation that wasn’t about Umbara, injuries, the soldiers lost or Krell. It was just…about nail polish. A good distraction. Something to get your mind off your earlier breakdown.

By the time you were done, she settled on a pattern of half blue and half white. She walked out of the clinic, with a stitched up wrist and small smile. Maybe she needed the mental distraction of the doom and death as well. 

Despite losing so many…at least you made Hana feel better.

You sighed, putting your face in your hands as soon as the door was closed. You basked in the small clicks and beeps of machines monitoring the men's status, taking just a few minutes to breathe. After a second, you heard a shift. 

One of the unconscious troopers turned onto his side to get more comfortable. You inspected the medical equipment next to his bed to check his status. He was alive and healing.

All of them were alive.

The doors opened again, and you looked up. Rex was standing there, helmet off and looking at you with both love and worry in his beautiful eyes, “May I…come in?” He asked quietly, as if not to wake the men. 

“You don't have to ask, you know.” you responded, giving him a small, tired smile. It was endearing, how he’d become shy when you two were in private.

He walked over to you and brushed his hand over your cheek, “How’s your arm?” the captain asked, looking at the bandages you still wore. The bacta soaked gauze were doing their job, as the wound pulsed and throbbed in pain, indicating healing. Whether all your muscles would return remains to be seen, but at least the nerves and veins were being repaired. 

“It’s getting better.” you answered, reaching up to hold his face in your hand. Your eyes narrowed, “You need rest.” 

“We all do.” Rex mumbled, closing his eyes and leaning his face into your palm. He breathed deeply before opening his eyes to look at you, “Mesh’la,” His term of endearment for you slipped from his lips, “You’ve saved so many of my brothers.” 

That's why he was here. Because of your earlier breakdown. 

“I’m alright now, Rex.” you gently reassured him, “I…was panicked. After the battle with the tanks, and getting Silk killed, I was terrified I’d lose you.” 

Rex leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on your forehead. One of his hands rested at your hip, holding you close, “Silk’s death wasn’t your fault, none of the losses are your fault,” his tone was so soft, so gentle, “You have saved so many of us, not just on Umbara, but on every planet we’ve been to. Every battle, every fight…you’ve done so much. For all of us.”

“I want to do more,” you responded, “I don’t want you to lose any more of your brothers…I know it's war, but…”

He sighed, “We are clones. We were made to fight for the Republic. Die for the Republic, if the situation calls for it.” His eyes held a certain sadness to it, “We are meant to be expendable.” 

“Not to me.” your voice was resolute. He wasn’t expendable. No clone was expendable.

Rex looked at you like you were the moon and stars themselves. He pulled you closer, kissing you passionately on the lips. Your chest met his armor, and he leaned into you, “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum…” he murmured when you broke away, “Gar cuyir ner kar'ta bal runi…” His forehead was against yours, holding you so tenderly.

“Bal ni kar'tayl gar darasuum,” you whispered back, taking in his warmth and love, “Gar cuyir ner oyay bal narser…”

He kissed you again, only pulling away when one of the unconscious soldiers moved in his sleep.

“I have to find Krell,” he mumbled, looking at you mournfully, “He may have orders…”

“Go, be the 501st captain, cyare.” you gave him a peck on the cheek, “Good luck dealing with him.”

He sighed and stepped back, leaving the medical bay. 

You watched him go before checking on all of them men. They were stable still, and luckily, a few were in a good enough state to wake up. A majority of them responded well to your neuro-check. Despite the good response from them, you wanted to keep the soldiers who sustained hits to the head in the med bay. 

However, there was an ARF trooper, Rush, who was still slurring his words. It was a terrible blow to the head he had sustained taking the airbase. Putting him back under the effects of sedatives and painkillers, you wanted to move on to everyone else. But…

Well, the Umbarans were technologically advanced. The life support and monitoring systems were intergalactic basics. All from the same base that you were trained with. However, they had systems and machines you had never seen before. You tried to use some of the more heavy duty equipment, but had no luck. 

One of them was a scanner, that you could tell. It resembled a datapad, but clearly had the technology and structure of the Umbarans. The screen had values and data that exceeded most medical equipment in the Republic. Your fingers toyed with it, trying to get the thing to work in your favor. Such a small but powerful scanner would be useful. 

Your shoulders slumped just as the med bay doors opened again, “Holy fuck you’re still awake!?” Kix’s eyes were wide, staring at you. His helmet was off and he seemed…somewhat refreshed. He probably got something to eat and took a power nap after Krell dismissed everyone. 

“Yea, there's still a lot to do.” you looked at him, holding the scanner, “Plus, I’m trying to crack some of this equipment.”

“The hardware and programming isn’t anything we’ve seen before.” The medic looked over your shoulder to see the tablet in your hands, “Oh? What's this?”

“I think it's a hand-held full body scanner. More powerful than anything in the Republic.” you answered, “I want it. But I can’t get the damn program to behave.” 

He stepped back, one hand on his hip, “Jesse and Fives are in the east hangar playing with some of their weapons,” Kix gave you a soft smile, “I’ll keep an eye on the guys here, take a break.” 

You couldn’t help but return his smile. It was clear the both of you had hit your limits with the losses. But now, after some rest, your spirits were higher.

After you gave an overview of each of the injured troopers, you left the medical bay and went to the hagar. The airbase was more organized now. Supplies were being moved, weapons were being inspected, and patrols were established. The 501st was very efficient. 

The hagar wasn't so organized but definitely had more energy. Several soldiers were on floating platforms, inspecting suspended starships. Others were working on the ships themselves, looking at the mechanics and wiring. It didn’t take you long to find Fives and Jesse. 

The ARC trooper was with Tup, having pried off a metal sheet from the ship he piloted before. The two of them were discussing something, most likely the controls or mechanics, as they inspected the inner workings of the Umbaran weapon. 

Dogma was seated nearby, cleaning his rifle while Jesse was standing at a consol, brow furrowed. He was hard at work attempting to crack the enemy hardware.

You approached, stepping in front of the console, “Hey Jesse,” Your voice was quiet, not wanting to distract the others, or wake up Hardcase who was asleep on the floor, leaning against the ship Tup and Fives worked on, “Are you busy?”

The senior trooper perked up, “Depends,” He leaned forward with a glint in his eye, “I can always make time for you.” you snorted when he winked. 

Dogma scoffed, “That is inappropriate.” 

You rolled your eyes, but handed Jesse the tablet, “Kix told me you were working on the Umbaran hardware, I was hoping you could help me crack this thing.” 

He raised a brow and took it, “What is it?”

“Some kind of scanner, I think.” you answered, sitting down next to Dogma, “But more powerful than anything in the Republic.”

“Might be easier than this fucking thing.” He smacked the console, “Give me a few minutes and I'll-.”

There was a yelp behind you and Fives tumbled off the starship, hitting the ground. The noise woke Hardcase with a jerk, who sat up and looked around confused. 

“I told you not to do that,” Tup looked at the ARC trooper's pathetic form on the floor, “I warned you that if you touched the wire, it would shock you.” 

“I know, I know.” Fives huffed and got to his feet and dusted himself off, “Fucking Umbarans and their…”

“I cracked the hardware,” Jesse raised the tablet, “It says Fives doesn't have a brain.”

“Son of a-”

You laughed softly alongside Tup who had paused his toying with the machine. Once you stepped up to the console, hand open, Jesse looked at you, “Oh, sorry. I actually didn't. I just saw an opportunity.” He chuckled. 

Fives huffed and swiped the Umbara gadget from him, “Give me that. I’ll figure this out.”

“What's going on?” Hardcase slurred from the floor.

“Nothing, go to the barracks and get some sleep.” Dogma mumbled, keeping his eyes down to continue cleaning his weapon. 

Hardcase looked around before he silently nodded and stood up, “Sleep well, buddy.” You bid him farewell as he stumbled out of the hangar. A part of you felt jealous at his ability to sleep right now. 

You…didn’t think you could. Not until all of this was done. 

Tup spoke your name softly, earning your attention, “Are…you and Kix ok?” 

Oh, he’s so sweet. Tup reminded you of a shiny fresh off Kamino, overly respectful, overly polite and overly shy. You hoped that with more experience, he’d break out of the shell, learn that you could be a friend, not just his doctor. 

You gave him a tired yet genuine smile, “We are, just needed some rest and time to breathe.”

The trooper nodded before looking over at Dogma, “Hey, Dogma, isn’t there something you need to tell our good doctor?”

The other trooper flinched before he nodded, “Listen, Doc…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things on the field.” His dark brown eyes were filled with clear sorrow and regret. His apology surprised you, but you appreciated it nonetheless.

“How’s your jaw?” You asked, crossing your arms. 

“Hardcase has a strong right hook.” He mumbled, looking away ashamed, “But it's fine…”

With a sigh you approached and put a hand on his shoulder, “It's not the worst that's been said to me.” you wanted to laugh at his surprised look but remained calm, “Apology accepted.”

He slumped his shoulders and let out a relieved sigh. 

“Got it!” Fives practically cheered, causing a trooper on a platform to visibly jump. The ARC trooper gave the scanner to you quickly before he dashed to Jesse’s side to help him with the console.

You looked over the gadget and began to toy with it silently. After a few minutes, the tablet responded to your touch easily. Wordlessly you stood and raised it to Dogma. 

After a press on the screen, a fan of light went over the confused trooper. He paused, looking at you, “Doc…?” 

The screen blinked, and on it, was an outline of his body. Next to it were values. 

Blood pressure. Heart rate. Blood count. Adrenal levels. Liver enzymes. Nerve response time. Bone density. Hours of sleep.

All important values in terms of health and wellbeing. On the outline there were indicators and when you pressed the screen, there was more information. You pressed the area of his jaw, exactly were Hardcase had clocked him. 

“Are you sore where Hardcase hit you?” you asked him and he nodded. After his answer, you perked up happily, knowing the scanner worked. However, there was another indicator in his head. 

When you pressed it, the information was…off. 

To test it, you scanned Fives, only to get the same result. Then Jesse, then Tup. All of them had the same result.

ANOMALY: right orbital floor, parietal and temporal intersection

Huh…weird….

[intimidating-fettuccine]

How was it at first when Toby came to the mansion? (Bro after being bullied and abused his whole life I couldn't think he could not be afraid of someone/everyone) so did Tim and/or Slender do anything to help him be less paranoid/afraid of people?

(Can this be a part 2 if you have already done it yet? 🙏)

This has not been written yet~ I hope you enjoy, this is gonna get angsty

I’d like to start this off with a refresher of my Toby’s lore. He was raised in a violently abusive household, by a father who was an influential CEO and dreamt of the perfect family, and created it by violently abusing them every moment of every day if they acted out of line. Starvation, mock executions, isolation, and sensory deprivation/assault, were everyday common things for Toby, but the things that struck the harshest chord in Toby were watching those things happen to his mother and sister. So, needless to say, after being raised in a household like that Toby was not in any sort of stable condition. He was on the run for about two years before meeting Slender, and his general condition hadn’t improved at all.

I think Slender probably came into contact with both Toby and his mom (as Toby was still receiving support from her after her freedom was obtained, and he usually lived with her in secret), which is just about the only way I can imagine things going somewhat peacefully. I think his mom stayed with him at the mansion for at least the first few months to smooth things over. Toby did not have an easy time, though. With his fear of authority, he was incredibly rigid and nervous and refused to form any sort of connection with anyone. He was treating all other members the same way he treated his dad, acting firm like a soldier and not doing anything unless “commanded” to, saluting them and acting as though they were his superior. Witnessing his behavior was quite unnerving to mostly everyone else there as they tried to get him to relax, but if anyone other than his mom got too close to him he’d begin rapidly apologizing and begin to hurt himself as a form of “punishment”. Toby’s actions were disturbing and very emotional for everyone in the mansion, and if his mom hadn’t been there to help they would have been much worse. Tim and Slender both worked hard to get Toby accustomed to a normal life, but it took several years for them to get him relaxed to the point where he is today in present time. Slender looked after Toby when he wasn’t working, checking in with him and working with his mom on a regular basis to try and help him understand that everything would be okay now.

Tim took up most of the work in helping Toby adjust, which is why the two of them are so close today. Being around lots of people, especially in an enclosed space like the mansion, made him extremely nervous and scared at a constant level, so usually when Tim would work with Toby he would do so outside. Toby was never allowed outside, so he has no conception of how he’s supposed to behave out there. It’s the one place where he can usually relax and think and act however he wants to, which was advantageous for Tim when it came to deconstructing Toby’s trauma and self-abuse cycle. Tim became a very solid older brother figure for Toby, just talking with him and taking him out to do things, letting him experience things he never got to. He was the first person besides Toby's mom that he formed any happy memories with since killing his father and escaping, and it did a lot for Toby mentally to be able to have that. He quickly became the first person Toby started forming any sort of trust with, and Tim got it to click in Toby’s brain that if Tim trusted everybody else, then Toby could trust them too. It would still be a slow process and like I said take several years, but Slender and Tim did their absolute best to help Toby get to where he is today.

[littleguypumpkinsheep]

I want to talk about Gorrister and Ted a little bit because because I read their summaries for the game and it made me mad

For Gorrister: THEIR MARRIAGE WAS NOT ABUSIVE. I just refuse to believe that. You don’t have to make a character abusive to give them nuance. He already Has plenty of nuance. They both loved each other. It’s implied they wanted to have kids together. It’s just that his wife was very mentally ill and they were both struggling to cope with it because it got to be too much for just the two of them to help. And Gorrister, for as much as he cared and loved her, couldn’t give her the help she needed. He couldn’t have. He’s not a professional. But he tried. But it wasn’t enough. That isn’t his fault. It isn’t her fault. But because she killed herself, he blames himself. There should’ve been something more he could’ve done. Anything else. But really, there wasn’t anything he could’ve done. The mental health industry was bad back then. Being institutionalized was very likely to just make you worse. He didn’t want that to happen to her. It was just a bad means to something that was on the track to ending anyway.

For Ted: He’s not a “conman”. He was a grooming victim. He was 19 when he was being used sexually for money by women who were in their 30’s at the youngest. Because he was young, naive, and desperate for money. That isn’t a shallow desperation to have. He was poor. Very poor. You need money to survive. So he took the only out he saw and kept quiet about it to make a stable income. He was being used and manipulated. And so, he internalized that. He wasn’t lying because he wanted to, or out of malice. He was doing it because he had to. Both of these characters do “bad” things in their lives, and make terrible mistakes. But like most people, it isn’t because they wanted to be mean. They did their best in the situation they were given. Acknowledging this doesn’t flatten them out as characters.

[dearestspirit]

a note heard in heaven - 04

mizu x fem!reader | au based on the film the handmaiden | word count: 3,826 | warnings: mdni. this series will contain sexual and dark themes, including: abuse, sex, sexual assault/harrasment, period typical misogyny, murder, allusions to suicide, and period typical stigmas against mental health.

series masterlist | previous part | next part

With a deafening metallic crash, the bell you’ve been ringing falls to the ground, the string snapping. Mizu, still enraged, fumbles with her sheets before rising to her feet. She’s sliding your door open so hard it thwacks against the wall, nearly closing once more. Every bit of her anger crackled within her, a roaring fire yet to be settled. If she shut her eyes for even the briefest moment, all she could see was you in Taigen’s lap. The way you so easily accepted his lips on yours, his fingers slithering up past your underclothes. Approaching your bed, she’s sure you can feel the heat radiating off her. She hopes it burns you. Melts you until you’re ash she can blow out to sea; watch as you mix with the water and then never visit the shore again.

You’re upright on your bed, heart thudding with every heavy step Mizu takes that shakes the floor. “I can feel a nightmare coming.”

“And?” She stares.

You’ve never been scared of her eyes. But her glare is frighteningly cold, devoid of any care for you. You yearn to see her eyes the way you had seen them yesterday; comforting you, cupping your cheeks and telling you those tender words to not feel guilty for being born. You’d hate to hear whatever thoughts were running through her mind right now, if she felt any sense of regret. Her lack of emotion towards you left you bitter.

“You know, it’s hard to do those readings. I would’ve liked it if you were here to help me with my clothes,” You flip the corner of your blankets over, scooting to the left and patting the spot where you sat. “Lay here.”

“Yeah,” Mizu scoffs. “I’m sure you would’ve gotten your clothes off just fine with The Count’s help.”

You don’t respond, already on your side and staring at the wall. Away from her.

If she looked close enough, she thought she could see a tremor in your shoulders. That feisty resolve of hers was crumbling, and it didn’t take long for her to slide in next to you. She too faced opposite you, not wanting to look you in the eyes. A few beats of silence pass once she settles under the covers. Closer to you now, she can feel it. Your breaths aren’t the most stable, and your skin emanates a chill that almost worries her.

“The Count… he proposed to me,” You’re whispering so quietly she’s not even sure if you can hear yourself. “Next month, when my fiance leaves for his visit to the family business, we’ll escape and elope.”

She’s plucking at the threads of your blankets, shrugging. “You said yes?”

“I said I wasn’t sure.”

“Why?” Mizu’s tone switches to annoyance. That wasn’t the plan; you were supposed to be elated. Say yes in an instant.

“I’m scared of The Count.”

“There’s nothing to be scared of,” Mizu grits her teeth, as if she’s trying to convince herself of the lie she just told. “He’s a better man for you than your fiance.”

“I can tell he’s not, like an instinct.” You’re sighing, rolling yourself over so that you face Mizu’s back.

Gulping, she finds the courage to do the same. Your breaths, short and shallow, billow across her face. Strands of your hair fall over your cheek. In a moment she doesn’t even think, tracing your cheekbone with her finger to tuck your hair behind you. Like an instinct.

Before she can get too distracted, you lean close to her.

“Mizu,” You mumble, and there’s a tinge of embarrassment on your expression. “I don’t understand men. What they want after marriage… I didn’t have a mother here to teach me. I know first… I’d have to kiss The Count, right?”

She’s dumbfounded, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, you’d have to kiss him. Which you’ve already done, so I don’t know why you’re having a fit.”

“I’m not!” You whine, the noise tugging on Mizu’s heartstrings. Maybe she liked when you were a little bit of a playful brat. “I just don’t know about everything that… comes after.”

“You and The Count will kiss, and then hug. In bed,” She snorts at putting such inappropriate thoughts into innocent euphemisms. “Just say yes. It’ll be fine, you don’t even need to think about it.”

“What if I don’t feel anything?” You mutter, squirming in discomfort.

Mizu groans, head falling. “Look, I’ll show you one thing, then you’ll go to bed, wake up and say yes to The Count. You can figure the rest out yourself.”

She can’t say she didn’t feel bad for you; even though she herself didn’t have a mother for these things either, she had a plethora of friends who would talk about all these crass topics together. Sharing stories of their encounters to pass the time. Yet here you were, all alone with no peer to fool around with. Though she supposed you now had that little tryst with Taigen– she’d been trying to black it out of her mind to avoid the bristles of anger it’d bring her– but she doubts he taught you anything useful out of that. She knew him. He would put his hands on you and take the lead. Touch you where he wanted to touch you. With pinching fingers that’d sting and bruise. Is that what made her so furious? That she’d be complicit in letting someone like you, fragile and delicate, be fed to a wolf like him? She didn’t care if you liked him. It was fine, it was more than fine, it was the plan. She doesn’t like you.

She reaches over you, digging around the drawer next to you to find the candy you liked; the one she had given you in the bath. Popping it in her mouth, she wets it sufficiently, before spreading a thin, sticky layer of sugar on the outside of her lips. If she was going to kiss you, she’d at least make sure you enjoyed it. For your sake. She doesn’t like you.

But then you’re staring at her expectantly, pouting as you wait for her to make any sort of move, make any sort of comment.

“You’re so…” She sounds breathless, the tightness in her chest growing.

One of her thumbs comes up to pass across your bottom lip. Her knuckles brush against your cheek. Hoping her fingerprints can memorize the little imperfections of your skin. Hoping, selfishly, that her touch could stain you, make you hers.

Cute. Is what she wants to tell you.

“Infuriating.” She finishes, and with the most delicate touch she could muster, presses her lips against your own.

It’s swift, as if your body could barely process the feel of her. When your tongue swipes out, you find that the taste of that candy she had once fed you in the bath is sweeter, this time. It doesn’t take her long to chase after you, giving you another chaste peck.

“Mizu,” You murmur into her mouth, opening your eyes. “How’d you learn this?”

“I had friends who told me.” She tells you.

“In words, or…?” You’re asking, unsure if you want the real answer to that.

“Yes,” She huffs, chuckling. She’s pulling away from you, moving back to how she was before you two kissed. “Just words. Let’s get you to bed, okay?”

You’re silent, though she can see the way your eyes have darkened. Yet they’re shining– barely reminiscent of the dull, lonely girl she’s been so used to. It takes her by surprise when you reach for her neck, pulling her lips back to yours fervently. She had kissed you so sweetly, yet your kiss burns her. Ardent with desire, you’re quick to prod your tongue against her mouth. You’re nearly cooing when she opens hers in return, your content exhales satisfying the need she had buried deep within her. Remorse creeps in her bones when she realizes she has to pull away, taking a breath the both of you needed. You’re panting beside her, hand on your chest right over your heart.

“I felt it.” You’re grinning, lips still shining.

Mizu’s smile drops, a cold rush of panic seeping through her when she hears your words. It’s not supposed to be her.

“That’s what you’ll feel for The Count.” She’s rushing to fix the mess she’s made.

“Really?” You’re snuggling yourself closer to her, giggling. “He’ll like bedding me, even with my cold hands and feet?”

You’re playing around, and Mizu wishes she could entertain that. Just for a while, forget all about Taigen. In her mind there’s a world where there is nothing but the two of you; there is no horrible past spent being a criminal, there is no awful fiances, there is no Taigen. There, she can dote on you– and, if she let herself really be vulnerable and admit it to herself– you’d dote on her too. She’d kiss you breathless in the morning, the afternoon, at night. Rest her head on the plush of your thighs while your fingers stroke her hair. Lay her body over yours to keep you warm. Sate your hungers in any way you wished. She’d like bedding you, she wanted to hiss.

“He will.”

“Are you sure?” You’re squinting, still smirking.

“Yes, I’m absolutely-” She’s cut off by the feeling of your hand reaching into her underclothes, the chill of your hand shocking her when it cups her breast. “Oh.”

“Do you like it?” Your head tilts, a devious sparkle in your eye.

She’s gasping when your cold fingers give a faint pinch to her nipple, an intense flush crawling up the back of her neck, her ears, to her cheeks. You bite your lip, thinking just how ethereal she looks; her dark hair framing her face, eyes wide with what you hope is the same lust yours hold, and that pink glow. You wanted, so badly, to sink your teeth into whatever skin of hers you could reach. To taste whatever she’d be willing to give you. You wanted her to give you her touch.

“Show me, Mizu,” You plead, burying your teeth deeper into your lip. “Do it to me.”

She has to get herself together. Her eyes can barely focus on your form in the low light of the room. She kneads at your breast over the fabric of your underclothes, not daring to go further.

“The… The Count will like this, too.” Mizu says with a rasp, barely able to contain herself.

Her hand reaches higher, slipping the sleeve of your robe off your shoulder. Your bare chest now exposed, she watches you shudder as the cold air meets your skin. Her mouth runs dry, making a quick glance back up at your eyes. Taking your upper arm into her hand, she pushes you back so she can hover over you.

“If he sees you like this…” It’s sudden, the way she dips her head down and encloses her mouth around your nipple.

She doesn’t want to hurt you– that much is evident by the way she avoids scraping her teeth against the peak. Instead she laps at it soothingly, relishing in your muffled whimpers. When she sucks, your hand flies to her hair, pulling. The sting as you tug on the strands excites her, causing her to press hot, open-mouthed kisses to the swell of your breast. To the valley between them, following the column of your throat to the bottom of your chin. She can tell your mouth is open in an attempt to speak; teasingly, she circles her thumb around your nipple, wet with her spit. Heavy, stuttered breaths escape you as your mouth opens and closes, trying to gain some footing. Is it wrong of her to say she likes toying with you? Not cruelly, like your fiance would, and not demandingly like Taigen would; but giving you what you want, just never enough. Anything to hear your staggered moans. See the dewdrops of tears shine in the corners of your eyes. And you’ll find that no matter how much she taunts you with just hints of pleasure, that it’s the sweetest touch you’ve ever felt. Ever will feel.

“Will he be this gentle, too?” You ask, voice hoarse.

“How could he not?” Mizu tells you, words tickling your skin. “He’ll do this, too…”

Her fingers dance at the hem of your robe about halfway down your calf, not quite reaching underneath but not entirely innocent, either. She waits until she feels the nod of your head in the crook of her neck, and then she’s diving in. It parts so easily, the thin fabric pooling under you. Your legs squeeze together when you feel her trace up your thighs, so slowly you wonder if it’s torture. Tugging at her sleeves, you try to pull her underclothes past her chest, wanting her bare. When you do, she’s descending down your body, tongue trailing down along with her. Her nails scrape down your sides, not deep enough to scratch but enough to leave red lines in their wake. They’d fade before the sun rose, but you’d cherish them all the same, fingers curving over the way they slightly raise your skin.

“Keep showing me,” You breathe out. “Do it like The Count would.”

She has half the mind to bite deep marks into your thighs– if Taigen ever reached down here, he’d be met with imprints of her teeth. Sucked into your skin until they blossom in every bold shade of red, purple, blue. Maybe then, she thought, he could no longer mindlessly devour you– you can’t, not after you had already been so lovingly tended to. Those memories would stick to every nerve ending of yours. You’d think of her during whatever mediocre sex Taigen would put you through. You’d think of the rush of intimacy you two shared. You’d call out her name. Mizu settles by dragging her tongue up your skin; starting from just above the inside of your knee to near the apex of your thighs.

“The Count will tell you that you’re soft, warm, and…” Her hands grab at the back of your knees, positioning them so they’re raised, your feet flat on the bed. Leaning her head against your knee, she sighs. “Breathtakingly beautiful.”

You’re leaning up on your elbows now, smiling down at her. Her mind is about to short circuit. You were real. Those precious eyes of yours gleaming with unbridled bliss. How badly had she wanted this without even knowing it? To sink down to your cunt, take your waiting clit into her mouth and taste you. To drink every drop of slick her tongue could. She wanted to hear you keen, to feel you grind your hips on her face. Worship the way you’d clench around her fingers– one, two, however many you’d beg for. Do anything for you that Taigen could never dream of doing. After all, Taigen loved you because he could ruin you; she wanted to ruin you because she loved you. The acknowledgement of that terrified her, her once feverish motions slowing to a halt. Her palms caress the backs of your thighs, tongue coming out to wet her lips as she contemplates what she’s doing. You were being so patient even as she hesitated.

“Would The Count be staring like this, too?” You quip, though your hand soothingly cards through her hair.

“Sorry,” She’s sheepish at your observation. “He would.”

When you mewl out as her lips meet your clit in a timid kiss, she knows she’s a goner.

Her ears ring with the sound of your shared moans the next morning, unable to get the angelic sounds to pass from her mind. She’s once again forced to sit in on your painting lessons with Taigen, the sight of the man making her sick to her stomach. Though, there’s also a twinge of pride knowing she had been the one to watch you come undone. You had fallen apart with such a loud, shuddering gasp– it had sent a quiver up the bumps of her spine, electrifying her. Taigen would never have the luxury of hearing it. Never feel the needy rock of your hips against his own, never delight in the deluge of your wetness soaking him. Even if it were only to happen once, she had already etched herself into you. Carved out a place for herself so that your bodies could mold seamlessly. Your fingers interlocked, legs coupled together as the heat of your arousal slotted against hers.

Mizu’s shaken out of her thoughts when she notices Taigen glide a hand up your arm. The discomfort on your face is apparent. Taigen had given her simple instruction, though– sit and be quiet. Even patronizingly gave her a pencil and some loose sheets of paper to follow along with the lesson. There’s just chicken scratch doodles and letters scrawled across it to quell her frustrations. His hands continue their journey over the dips of your hip.

“Stop.” You whisper, cringing away from his touch.

She wants him to leave you alone. Her pencil scratches harder, listening to you snivel while Taigen just chuckles. It’s not until your own pencil clatters to the floor as you yell, “Stop it!” that she stands up, towering over Taigen sitting behind you.

He lets out a cough, raising himself. He fishes around in his pocket for a while, digging out a coin and extending it to Mizu. “Go find some other job to do. You know?”

Taking one glimpse at you, she sees the trepidation in your expression. Your trembles, imperceptible to the naked eye unless trained for it. By now, she knew exactly what you looked like when you felt fear. Always because of your fiance, or Taigen. Tearing her eyes away from you, she takes the coin from his grasp. Your shoulders fall as she approaches the door. Behind her, there’s a hushed, stuttery breath. She knows it's you. Exhaling, she turns on her heel and stands in front of Taigen.

“My only job is to watch over her.” Mizu says, deliberately enunciating her words as she places the coin back into his palm.

She doesn’t miss the way your lip quirks up, the tension in your muscles easing as you let yourself relax.

Mizu’s chasing after Taigen as he follows just one of the dirt paths on the property. He’s kicking rocks, angrily muttering under his breath until he notices her presence. Taigen, with a furious grip, grabs her wrist and pulls her closer to him.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” He hisses callously. “I could’ve had her! She’s fully ripe. If you mess this up, we’re fucked!”

She struggles in his grasp, breathing labored from running after him. He doesn’t even give her a chance to respond before he’s continuing on his tirade.

“I have fought way too hard to escape that shitty village,” His skin burns red in exasperation. “I’m not letting you ruin it. Should I tell her what you really are? A lowly thief preying on her, huh?”

“Then I’ll just tell her the same thing about you,” Mizu spits. “The son of a poor farmer from the same poverty stricken village I am.”

“Mizu,” His fingers clasp harder around her arm as he talks calculatedly. “Think of everybody depending on you back home. What would your mother say if she knew you were destroying a golden opportunity such as this?”

Pulling out of his hold, she’s finally able to swat his hand away from her, panting. “Just… don’t go too far. She doesn’t have anyone on this earth, so if you scare her, she’ll never say yes. I’ll… I’ll work on it. And don’t ever fucking touch me again.”

She’s stomping away from him, leaving him behind to stew in his disbelief.

You’re sprawled out across the lounge chair in your room, Mizu on her knees at your feet. Her hands massage up the tired muscles of your calves, adoring your sleepy sighs of peace. You’ve got an elbow propped up on the chair’s arm, cheek in palm as you stare down at her.

“Miss,” Mizu breaks the silence. “You know, your nails have been growing longer since The Count got here. You could go far away with him. You’ve barely ever been past the manor’s yard. Wouldn’t that make you happy?”

“My fiance would follow me. My life has always been like this, so,” With a click of your tongue, you shrug. “I wouldn’t mind staying here… if you were here with me. That’d make me happy.”

Mizu gulps, trying to make her expression as neutral as possible. “The Count loves you. He wants to protect you. What could go wrong?”

“I don’t love him.”

“You do.”

You’re pulling your legs away from her, sitting up straight. Palms flat on the cushion under you, you angle yourself down to her eye level. “How can you tell?”

“You… when you look out the window waiting for your painting lessons, or when in your sleep you turn, or… your nails.” She’s mumbling, unable to look you in the eyes. They’re teary, glossed over with an anger she’s never seen from you before.

“What if I said I loved someone else?” You asked, ignoring the lump in your throat. “I don’t have anyone on this earth… would you really still tell me to marry him?”

She’s hesitant, but Mizu takes your calf into her hands again, looking up at you with optimistic eyes and a smile. She can fix this. Make you love Taigen the way you’re supposed to. “You will love him.”

And then you’re hiccuping, a sob escaping you. Those pearls of tears roll down your face with such speed it startles her. You’re pulling her up by her arms, moving her backwards to the door. She didn’t even know you had such strength in you. “Get out,” Your voice warbles, thick with grief. “Get out.”

“Wait, miss!” She’s collapsing backwards, falling onto her ass on top of the bedroll behind her.

The cold flame in your eyes doesn’t dwindle even as you see her chest rise and fall in quick bursts, the way her hands grip the sheet to stabilize herself. That heartless, indifferent demeanor is the last thing she sees before your door slams closed, bellowing footsteps retreating. Hand over her chest, she does her best to calm her hyperventilating. Lowering herself until she hits the floor, she feels something that she hasn’t in a long time– the bite of tears welling up. Outstretching her arms, she clamors around haplessly, searching for something. There, hidden in the corners of her belongings, was a wrapped up candy. The one she had used to kiss you.

If she closed her eyes and focused on the taste, maybe then she could find herself back in the recesses of her thoughts– in that world that was just the two of you.

a/n: part 4!! sorry for the longer update between 3 and 4. this is where the story starts getting like. really non-linear so bear with me as we go through the next parts of the plot sdlkfhsdf also don't worry there's more nsfw parts to come eventually, so even though it got cut off/implied now there will be more later <3

[igorvinyls]

Why I Believe John Lennon is Asuka Langley

Hello everyone! I originally created a thread about this over on Twitter, though I also want to post it here just because. I want to preface this by saying while this is mostly a joke, I still want to point out the similarities between the two. I find that both John and Asuka are very complex people/characters that happen to heavily relate to each other. Obvious spoilers for Neon Genesis Evangelion. TW FOR TOPICS SUCH AS SUICIDE AND DEATH.

CHILDHOOD TRAUMA

Both John and Asuka lost their mothers from a young age, with Asuka losing her mother at 4 and John losing his mother just before his 18th birthday. It’s known that John’s mother wasn’t exactly mentally stable as Mimi, John’s aunt, was given custody of him. Similarly to John’s mother, Asuka’s mom, Kyoko, was also mentally unstable. Kyoko lost her mind after surviving a failed experiment with Evangelion Unit-02. This experiment would also end up taking the life of Yui Ikari, Shinji’s mother (this is important info for later.) Kyoko ultimately committed suicide after losing her mind and her husband in the process. Though it is ambiguous how Asuka’s father felt towards her, he did indeed drive his daughter away by cheating on Kyoko while hospitalized. It’s also known that John’s father wasn’t very involved with him up until the height of Beatlemania. Both John and Asuka were never very close with their parents due to many different factors.

(It can also be argued that John and Asuka were both adopted, but Asuka being adopted was only canon in the manga. For the sake of this post, I’ll only mention canon events from the anime going forward.)

I would also like to bring up this video.

RELATIONSHIPS WITH LOVERS

John and Yoko will probably be the most recognized celebrity couple in the world. It’s also recognized that John had an Oedipus complex which was sometimes discussed. The same can be said for Asuka, considering the fact that she romantically latched onto Kaji, a 30 year old special inspector for NERV. Asuka does this to fill the void of a perfect father figure in her life, as well as filling the role of a lover. John mentions doing this with Yoko numerous times. John and Yoko would even go as far as calling each other mommy and daddy. Moving onto other romantic relationships, I will now discuss Shinji, Asuka, John, and Paul. Shinji and Asuka have this strange dynamic throughout the story of Evangelion. Asuka is secretly in love with Shinji (you can already see which direction this is headed in), though Shinji has a hard time reciprocating his feelings due to his own personal struggles. Asuka’s rudeness and constant bullying also confuses Shinji, leaving him to wonder what Asuka truly feels for him. In this scenario, Paul would be in the same boat as Shinji. Shinji and Paul both lost their mothers at a young age. Paul and John bonded over the loss of their mothers. In a way, this also happens with Shinji and Asuka. It’s easy to tell that Shinji is more drawn towards Asuka after she tells him that her stepmom isn’t her actual mother. John and Paul go on to have a rivalry as they grow older, which also happens to Asuka and Shinji, though their rivalry was highlighted since day one. This rivalry between the two characters progresses all the way to the finale of the series. You can say that Asuka finally accepts Shinji when she lifts her hand up to his cheek while he is brutally strangling her. This act is seen as her accepting him into her heart after everything that they’ve been through. John and Paul also reconcile towards the end of John’s life. In Evangelion, the world is quite literally destroyed at the end of the series when the two finally reconcile. I’m not gonna be cheesy and say the same for John and Paul, but yeah. MOVING ON NOW.

OTHER FACTORS

John and Asuka have a habit of trying to appear more “mature” than they truly are. Asuka constantly boasts about being the best and most mature out of everyone. Same can be said for John. We also see this with his marriage to Cynthia Powell, John’s first wife. In my eyes, John’s first marriage was a rush to maturity considering the fact that he was only 21. I could say the same for John having a child with Cynthia at such a young age as well. John and Asuka, though trying to seem mature, are ultimately vulnerable people who tend to regress. Asuka acts like a young, lovestruck girl with Kaji. John acted in a similar fashion with Yoko. Asuka and John had massive egos. What else is there to say, really?

FINAL SUMMARY AND A FUN FACT

This is gonna be a quick one that basically ties together the points of my threads.

John and Asuka were seriously neglected as children which had a massive impact on their social development, as well as behavior.

Both had large egos, yet low self esteem.

The only fun fact about the two I have is that they both know German and Japanese.

THANKS FOR READING!

[thousandyearphantombunker]

An overly passionate post about Hank Pym and Jan Van Dyne

I’d like to preface this by saying Hank Pym is my favorite Ant-man and that I don’t think he deserves all the hate and controversy he gets, however I’ve noticed a lot of his fans tend to villainize Jan Van Dyne for reasons that I think are personally sort of stupid. A lot of Hank’s fans try to defend him by painting Wasp as a creep who took advantage of him during a psychotic break/the time when he was in that fugue state as Yellowjacket by marrying him during that time- but that’s not how it went down! She married him out during that time out of fear of what he’d do to her (he tried to force harsh kisses on her and sexually harassed her etc) and out of genuine concern! Jan clearly loved Hank and would constantly try and build up his nonexistent self-esteem but didn’t know how- She would try and prop up his ego but kept accidentally feeding into Hank’s weird complexes instead. I will say that Jan flirted with other men a lot but that wasn’t her being unloyal so much as her natural personality- but when you cross that with her being more successful and younger than him and he took that as a sign she wasn’t loyal/thinking she only liked him out of pity or to make herself look better. 

 She wasn’t manipulating him for her own ends, she wanted to help and have a healthy relationship with him. Still, she didn’t know how to handle the situation properly- Hank needed a therapist, not a girlfriend who thought maybe if she complimented him enough, maybe if she propped him up enough they could be good together- she comes off as a person who had no prior experience with mental illness like this- no frame of reference, no idea what to do, and she didn’t seem to understand what was going on- so she accidentally enabled him and made things worse but she didn’t manipulate him. It’s pretty relatable- If you’ve ever had a mentally ill friend or whatever but had no prior knowledge of mental illness, you tend to mishandle things- you become insensitive/mean without meaning to, or you end up enabling bad behavior- it’s scary and Jan’s case she was in actual physical danger! 

I’d also like to say that Hank while not at all stable had some lucidity when he hit Jan, and prior to him hitting Jan he was already displaying emotionally abusive behaviors (Destroying her costume, practically interrogating her) so no you can’t blame it his mental illness- he still had enough awareness of what he was doing (That being said who in there right mind let Hank rejoin the Avengers after he had a severe disassociative episode-I would have demanded he’d go to therapy or be institutionalized if he refused) 

I do like Hank, he’s a complex/interesting character. He has an inferiority complex so deep he’s tried to kill himself, he’s made preemptive strikes to prove his worth to others, he gave himself health issues from becoming Giant-man and it’s again tied to his insecurities. Outside of his suicidal tendencies, he’s got anger management issues, suffers paranoid delusions, disassociates, etc. He’s also incredibly self-sacrificing and is a strong believer in second chances- redemption is what he wanted for himself- what he tries to convince others he can have- so he hopes he can give to others too. Also, he’s a badass mad scientist (Literally that’s what sold me on him as a character) but the point still stands he was a domestic abuser, he refused to get help for a long time until it reached a breaking point and his reputation both in-universe and out can’t ever make a full recovery- like I said he’s complicated, so you can’t just paint him as a wife-beater or say absolved of his misdeeds because of his insanity or someone else egging him on, Jan was a victim plain and simple even if you point out some of her enabling behaviors

But my ultimate hot take? EMH’s Hank and Jan are the most annoying couple- separately I loved them but whenever I saw Janet whine or Hank moan about the other all I could think was- “Please, the love of God just break up!”- I was like kid preteen btw and still found that drama annoying

[siblingshuffle]

Any instance where Blues has gotten hurt really bad, needing to be treated by either Roll, Light, or Rock, who are concerned?

Thanks for the ask, Anon!

Despite his non-combative role, Blues has gotten hurt a couple of times. Not often to a “really bad” degree because he’s not often put in a position where he’s likely to get hurt, but it does happen sometimes by nature of being related to the city’s hero. That said, unless he is physically incapable of "just dealing with it", he probably wouldn’t let someone else fuss over him for very long (if at all).

I mean, I made him mentally 13 years old because that’s the first official “teen” year (which are traditionally marked by rebellion, searching for identity, and attempts to assert their own autonomy - so basically for thematic reasons) on top of his already fierce sense of independence and his introversion. He tries to do everything himself unless he literally can’t.

Here’s a short list of injuries (& health issues) that he has had to make his family worry:

The incident that led to the discovery of Blues’s defective core. His power output wasn’t stable, it fluctuated due to the imbalance in his core, and he lost power mid-demonstration (basically passing out), and on top of that he was still being attacked on his way down. Dr. Light panicked over that, given that his son was hurt and possibly dying and it was his fault. The guy was beating himself up even before he discovered Blues climbing out through the window. (Also fun fact: Dr. Light still hasn’t completely given up on the idea that maybe he can find a way to ensure that Blues can get a new core AND keep his personality, though Blues doesn't think that’ll happen in his lifetime.)

As mentioned here, he ended up kidnapped by Oil Man to be used as bait after being sent home (since he was low on charge, and that’s when he starts getting more frequent weird/painful sensations in his limbs), and I’m unsure how clear I was, but he did not get the chance to get a good charge before being taken to a second location. So, for that whole arc, he’s very grumpy, sleepy, and uncomfortable (and definitely took a lot of little spite-fueled mini-naps). Roll got super worried upon discovering his scarf and the ransom note, in part since it didn’t look like he actually made it inside of the lab. She has him chug an E-Tank immediately upon his rescue and she & Dr. Light make him take a long nap once he was back home (and he was actually very willing to comply with both requests. Let Blues Sleep 20XX).

Also not an injury, but Blues was not "Live Laugh Love"-ing in game 10. I’m not sure how much you are counting this, but he was sick for most of the game, and everyone was very concerned.

Similarly, though not as seriously, Rock got EXTREMELY worried and would not stop trying to help Blues the first time Blues got the aforementioned sensation in one of his limbs around him. (It’s Rock’s function to help, after all.) Like, Blues had to sit him down and say "It’s just a power fluctuation. My core does that sometimes because it doesn’t work right. I’m not dying. Well, not yet anyway." This likely doesn’t count, but I’m putting it out there anyway.

—————

As you can see, not a lot of dramatic injuries, again probably due to lack of proximity to as dangerous activities. I do like to think, though, that newly-activated Robot Masters have very young-child-like responses to things despite thinking like their programmed age (because they still have to learn about the world around them via experiences to fill in the gaps that data can’t cover). So, here’s a bonus based on the idea:

5. Blues (approximately 2 days old) fell out of a tree he was climbing at the park (he saw some human kids doing it the day before and thought it looked fun, but didn’t account for the fact that he was heavier than those kids and the tree he’d picked was a little less sturdy.) He didn’t make it very high up before a branch snapped. The fall didn’t actually hurt much, but he hadn’t been hurt before and ended up so startled that, because he was 2 days old, translated to crying (and, because he’s also 13 years old, trying to stop crying because 'it’s not that bad' and 'this is so embarrassing'). Cue First-Time-Parent Dr. Light frantically checking up on him while Blues is trying to convince him that he’s fine.

[shiftingwithmars]

Disaster-Mattheo Riddle Oneshot

A/N: Yet another fic inspired by one of my favorite songs!! This one is a little bit longer so I really hope y’all like it😭

Summary: After your sixth breakup with Mattheo, you finally realize that your boyfriend isn’t always as strong as he pretends to be.

Warnings:Swearing, fluff, angst, Clingy!reader, use of Y/n, happy ending, let me know if I missed anything.

Song listened to while writing: Disaster-Conan Gray

It was yet another night of endless yelling between you and Mattheo. The cause? Mattheo had been ignoring you for the past week. Sure, he would say hi to you in the hallways and give you a quick kiss as you passed by each other on the way to class. But he hadn’t talked to you as much as usual, and when he did talk to you he just seemed so…bored. He was being distant, and you were starting to worry. You thought that the days of Mattheo being closed-off around you were over, but apparently you were wrong. So, you had tried to confront him about it, which is how you ended up here. Fighting in his dorm about something that could’ve easily been solved with some communication and reassurance. But nope, that’s not how Mattheo did things. Instead, he got angry and he snapped. Like always.

“God, you’re such a clingy and obsessive freak!” Mattheo spat, the words cutting deep as you tried to remain firm. You honestly didn’t know why you were still with Mattheo. The two of you had broken up five times already, and every single time you just came crawling back to each other. You just couldn’t take it anymore.

“I can’t do this anymore!” You shouted, the hurt evident in your voice. “This relationship is toxic, Mattheo. We fight almost every week! You’ve been ignoring me, and you don’t tell me anything! I’m sick of it! I’m done with your bullshit, Mattheo!” You let the words finally be released from your mind, tears pricking in the corner of your eyes. Mattheo glanced back at you, meeting your gaze with a mixture of emotions. Anger, hurt, regret, and then anger again.

“Then leave! No one’s stopping you!” Mattheo shouted back, his eyes narrowed into a firm glare. You scoffed, picking up your bag from the corner of the room. “Fine! But don’t expect me to come back this time!” You said harshly as you turned to leave. Mattheo’s expression faltered, and his expression softened as he processed your words. He tried to stop you from leaving, but the words were stuck in his throat. By the time he finally got the courage to speak, you were already gone.

You sat in the library, trying to ignore the heavy pain in your chest. It had only been a week, but it felt like months. You regretted breaking up with Mattheo, just like you knew you would. Sure, Mattheo wasn’t exactly the most mentally-stable boyfriend, but he was still a good guy. He walked you to class, always made sure that he told you he loved you, and he was happy to cuddle anytime you wanted to, even if he pretended not to like it. He always made sure that you felt loved and appreciated. You were too lost in your thoughts to notice the familiar brunette standing behind you.

“You coming to the game tonight?” You jumped at the sound of Theodore’s voice, sighing as you leaned back in your chair. “Sorry Theo, but I’m gonna have to skip this one.” You said in an apologetic tone, trying to ignore how much it hurt to say those words. “Come on, Y/n. You can’t just avoid having a life because you two broke up.” You sighed, your head hanging low. You had figured that Mattheo had already told Theo, and you were right. How come he told Theo everything, but he rarely ever told you?

“I just…I can’t. It won’t be the same, you know?” You said softly, swallowing hard as you tried to hold back from crying. You wouldn’t be wearing Mattheo’s jersey. He wouldn’t kiss you after the game to celebrate the win or kiss you to cheer him up after they lost. The only reason you even came to the quidditch games was to support Mattheo, and now you couldn’t. Because you weren’t his girlfriend anymore.

“It’s alright, I get it. But I’ll make sure Pansy saves you a seat, in case you change your mind.” Theo shrugged, turning around to leave. He paused though, glancing at you over his shoulder. “I’m sorry, about Mattheo. He’s not good with commitment.” Theo said softly, walking off without another word. You sat there, trying to process what Theo just said.

You sat on the hill, watching the quidditch pitch from afar. You could barely see what was happening, but luckily the announcer was loud enough to be heard from this far. The crowd was equally as loud, although less annoying than usual. That’s one reason you were glad you weren’t in the stands.

You sighed softly, slipping your arms into your sleeves as the chilly night air made you shiver. You cursed yourself for not bringing a hoodie, or even better, a blanket. All you were wearing was some very thin pants and Mattheo’s jersey. You would easily use some magic to warm you up, but you hadn’t been thinking and left your wand in your room.

You glanced up as people started filing out of the stands, signaling the end of the game. You didn’t know who had won, not able to hear the announcement over the crowd’s incoherent screaming. You stared down at Mattheo’s jersey, trying to ignore the bitter feeling in your heart. You shook your head, getting up with a feeling of determination. You doubted you could fix this, but you had to try. You couldn’t go any longer without at least apologizing to Mattheo.

You approached Mattheo’s usual crowd, all of them leaning against the back of the bleachers. Slytherin had won the match, as you could tell by Draco and Enzo shouting about how Slytherin was the best and Gryffindor could eat dirt. Theodore and Blaise just ignored their friends’ childish antics, and Mattheo was…..not there.

“Nice Jersey.” You jumped at the sudden voice, your eyes narrowing at the snarky remark. “You’re just mad because I didn’t give it back to you.” You responded with a tone full of equal snark as you turned to face Mattheo. His expression was soft, completely contrasting the bitterness in his voice. “Can we talk?” Mattheo asked, his hands shoved in his pockets. You crossed your arms over your chest, your eyes narrowed. “Okay. Talk.” Mattheo sighed, hoping that you would’ve asked to go somewhere private, but he knew that was unlikely. He just hated fighting with you in front of his friends.

“I’m sorry, okay? You were right. I’m a terrible boyfriend, and I don’t deserve you.” Mattheo said softly, his voice filled with pain. He turned his back to you, ignoring the burning sensation of the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. You slowly softened, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I’m a disaster.” Mattheo said quietly, causing your anger to finally dissolve.

“You’re scared.” You noted quietly, gently playing with the hem of his shirt. “Yeah…” Mattheo agreed, instinctively leaning into your touch. “I-I’m sorry, really. I just…” Mattheo trailed off, slowly turning to face you. “I’m not used to having someone care about me. It scares me…” Mattheo said softly, and you felt your heart swell with emotion. Mattheo had been hurt all his life by people close to him. His father, his mother, people he thought were his friends. Theodore was right; Mattheo was scared of commitment.

“It’s okay to be scared, Matt. It scares me just as much.” Mattheo seemed a little surprised at that statement, causing you to giggle. “No more yelling and fighting. From now on we communicate and we talk it out. Deal?” You asked softly, holding your pinky up. Mattheo smiled, netting your gaze with a gentle expression. “Deal.” He interlocked his pinky with yours, sealing the pinky promise.

He wrapped his arms around you, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. The sound of cheering behind you made you both turn your heads, rolling your eyes at the sight of Mattheo’s friends all watching with an amused look on their faces, clapping and hollering. You turned back to Mattheo, kissing him softly as you ignored Enzo parading around you in a circle. You loved Mattheo and he loved you, that’s all that mattered.

[fuwahua]

Chase

Tktober Day 2 - Chase

Tags: Sylvain / Felix from FE3H , Seemingly unrequited love, crush, white clouds period, sylvain exploding (affectionate)

Sylvix per request ヽ(o＾▽＾o)ノ Back to the academy!!

“Felix says you’re avoiding him.”

“Me? Avoiding him? Well well, how the turn tables!”

Dimitri stares at him, brows knitted partly in concern for Sylvain’s mental state and partly because no doubt Felix was somewhere in the vicinity, probably prowling the garden in anticipation of Sylvain admitting that he was avoiding the other. Which he wouldn’t admit, by the way. Because he had nothing to admit! He wasn’t avoiding the other!!

…. Not for the most part, anyway.

“To be honest, I’m not entirely sure you’re avoiding him either. Professor sat you both down to eat twice this week already,” Dimitri says, and Sylvain bites back a laugh at the petulant tone he takes on at the mention of Byleth. “You were clearly captivated by her but it’s certainly not out of place from you.”

“Hey, what’s wrong with dinner and a show? Besides, I see how you look at her. Can’t blame me for trying!”

Dimitri flushes. “I-I would never!”

“Listen, between you and me, I heard they’re getting a shipment of her favorite teas in. I could tell you which ones to pick out if you want.” Dimitri’s eyes widen, zoning into his every word, and Sylvain grins as he spins an at least partly true story of Byleth’s preferences.

Felix doesn’t come up for the rest of their conversation.

-

“Felix says you’re avoiding him.”

“Me? Why, I’d never!”

Ingrid scowls at him, lips jutting out the way she’d never grown out of since childhood. Sylvain chuckles, crossing his arms languidly behind his head. “How could I avoid him? We only take class together every single day.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Ingrid says. “I saw you both eating with Professor Byleth in the cafeteria last week. You were speaking with her the entire time, even though Felix was right besides you. Isn’t that a form of avoidance?”

“What? Did that happen?” Sylvain coughs, scratching his head. “He probably just wasn’t saying much. Can’t blame a guy for talking to someone who actually replies. And, hey, don’t you spend the entire mealtime scarfing down your food instead of conversing with your partner?”

“That’s—it’s not related!”

“I dunno,” he whistles. “That’s not what Dorothea said last time~”

“Dorothea? What did Dorothea say? Sylvain? Sylvain!”

-

“You’re on weed duty with Felix this week.”

“Wha—professor, really?”

Sylvain groans, cupping his face in his hands. It’s not unusual for Byleth to assign them odd and ends chores every week, sometimes keeping them the same no matter the weather (Ingrid practically lives in the stables with Marianne, through heat wave and snow. He really should drop by with snacks one day). But weed pulling? The thing Dimitri used to get assigned to before she caught him putting it in his mouth??

“I’m not fit for weed pulling, it doesn’t fit my,” he hesitates, mind whirring. “Skillset. I’d be a better help with the horses, you know. Why not swap me and Ingrid for once?”

Byleth gives him a slow blink. Her eyes look dead inside, but they kind of always looked like that. “Felix says you’re avoiding him.”

He groans a second time. Of course. “He told you that?”

“No.”

“No?”

“I heard it from Claude.” Claude? Entirely different house Claude? Byleth nods. “Who heard it from Hilda, who heard it from Marianne, who heard it from Ingrid, who heard it from Dedue, who heard it from Dimitri, who heard it from—”

“Felix,” Sylvain manages. He doesn’t groan a third time, though it is a near thing. “Felix told him.”

“Yes.” Byleth tips her head, staring at him. Or into his soul. Whichever. “If you already knew that, why haven’t you spoken to him yet?”

Sylvain doesn’t answer, eyes darting away. He knows that red will show on his cheeks regardless, yet dense as Felix is, Byleth is denser, and neither of them would even begin to comprehend what it could possibly mean when the childhood friend who flirts with you an entire lifetime suddenly starts stuttering through conversations like a fool half the time and avoiding you the rest. A mystery! Truly, an unsolvable, closed room case!!

“You could put a question in the advice box if you’d rather ask anonymously.”

“Professor, you write all our names on your answers. That’s not anonymous.”

“It’s more effective that way. Students work better when their advice is direct.” She smiles, raising a hand before she turns. “I’ll see you and Felix at the garden on Sunday.”

Her coat covers absolutely everything as she walks away. He stares at her figure regardless, cupping a hand over his mouth.

Fuck.

-

Felix is there at the crack of dawn, already hunched over the weeds and pulling them with the force of eighteen years of repressed rage. It’s almost impressive how efficiently he works through the grass as a noble: sure, he tears a little more grass than weed sometimes, but the green staining his gloves and the half-full buckle is proof of his hard work. The grass crunches beneath Sylvain’s feet as he enters.

Felix looks up and Sylvain bites down on the urge to flee.

“Good morning,” he says instead. Felix stares at him a moment longer, gaze lingering.

Beautiful. Wispy strands of hair stick to Felix’s cheek where sweat has begun to bead after a morning of hard work, cheeks pink with exertion and making clear the elegant edges of high cheekbones. He looks like a model, not a man hunched over a schoolyard, but fuck if those cat eyes drinking him in aren’t some of the prettiest he’s ever seen. Maybe the prettiest. At least top five. Top three?

“Good morning.” He doesn’t stare at Felix’s lips. He doesn’t. he doesn’t, he doesn’t. Maybe if he chants it enough times, the smudge of pink across those lips will fade from his memory.

It doesn’t.

Sylvain manages a smile, opening his mouth as Felix turns back to the garden, hands already returning to work. Well! That’s fine, then. Better than running his mouth and embarrassing himself even more than he’d already had for the week.

Weed pulling is, despite his complaints, not the worst chore to be assigned at Garreg Mach. It’s almost calming, a mindless chore of pulling and pulling, and he’s sure that on any other day, any other occasion, he’d be thankful for the still, calm quiet of an early Sunday. Hell, he’d probably still enjoy it today if Byleth was here! Or literally anyone else!

He pulls a little too hard on a weed and dirt goes flying, spraying his neatly pressed pants with it. Sylvain exhales and bites his lip rather than complaining the way he would if he were alone; Felix shifts besides him, eyes still down on the garden, but the angle is perfect, the shine of his hair is inviting, glossy, and Sylvain just wants to—

His hand stretches outwards just as Felix turns. And instead of navy strands of hair meeting his fingers, Sylvain finds his palm cupping Felix’s cheek instead.

His pink cheek. His warm cheek. Warm with exercise, warm with blood pumping through his body to keep him alive, warm with, maybe, the realization that they’re alone together at a time when no one else is awake.

Oh, goddess. He can’t do this.

“I-I need to go.”

Grass rustles as he jolts to his feet, unsteady, fight or flight screaming in his mind. Sylvain barely manages a backstep before Felix is up with him, bucket of collected weeds banging as it spills his morning’s hardship all over the floor. He gapes at him, eyes widening, as golden eyes fixate on him. Felix’s hands clench. Unclench. His pulse rises. Sylvain swallows.

He runs.

Felix runs right after him.

His scream is very dignified. “What are you doing? You have weeds to pick!”

“What are you doing!” Felix yells back. Their footsteps echo through the empty halls, louder than they have any right to be, and a painting of the goddess looks disapprovingly upon them when Sylvain nearly bangs his shoulder on a sharp turn. There’s a clang of metal behind him, closer than it has any right to be, and he shouts when a left turn sends him stumbling into the nearby wall. His head rings, dazed, before it’s slammed forward a second time when Felix’s body barrels right behind him and sending them sprawling on the floor.

Felix, on him. Sylvain sweats, already trying to turn back, but Felix’s hands grab his wrists and press down. “Wait—wait!”

“What’s with you?” Felix snarls. Sylvain gasps as his wrists are wrenched downwards, Felix’s weight on his back sending every alarm in his head screaming. He’s warm, goddess, fuck, he’s so warm. “Are you insane? Running through the Academy like a criminal?”

“M-maybe I like to be chased!” He sputters. His cheeks are burning. There’s nothing around him but the ground and Felix, and fuck, Felix is all he can think about.

“As if,” Felix says, scathing. “Tell that to the women who want you to leave them alone. Why is it that when they want to see you, you’re always gone?”

“That’s, you know, the thrill of the chase!” Sylvain gasps as Felix pins his hands down with his knees instead, flat palms encircling his waist; the whine that startles out of him is shameless. “Wahahaait, hold on, that ticklehehes!”

Felix blinks and then those fingers move now, spidering, and Sylvain shrieks. “Good.”

He says something between “No!” or “Felix, listen!” he thinks, maybe, but any and all coherent thoughts racing in his mind are drowned out by the urge to throw his head back in giggles as Felix’s hands dig roughly into the curve of his hips. He does exactly that, eyes squeezing shut yet unable to block out the electric currents running beneath his skin.

Sylvain’s fist hits the hard floor before he tries rolling out from under Felix’s grasp, squeaking and curling up when doing so just lets rough fingers slide between the uniform shirt. It feels impossible for his face to grow hotter but it does, burning, every sensation amplified by his yearning embarrassment. “Fehehehlix! Stahahahp!”

“Why should I?”

What does he say? What can he say? That the touch is already too much, that he might be going insane if this continues, that it doesn’t really matter if Felix’s hands are above the belt when his minds been flip-flopping about them in this exact position the past two weeks?

“I—cohohome on! I cahaHAHAN’T think likehehe this!”

Felix doesn’t offer him a verbal response, opting instead to pry his shirt higher and claw at the exposed skin. If the very thought of it is overwhelming, then the actual thing might well destroy the fragile thread of sanity still left in his head; Sylvain thrashes, attempting to rise to his elbows, to kick out his legs, but all his struggling does is have his shirt fall more open, a wide expanse of weakness open for the taking. Felix does, hands crawling upwards, rough, harsh, tracing every clenched muscle and earning choked out pleas and the very scrambled mess Sylvain’s brain is melting into.

“Plehehahahase!”

 “Stop moving.” Felix hisses in his ear, which absolutely does not help.

“HAHAHAHOW?!”

There’s a snort, genuinely amused, and Sylvain’s certain he’s red from the tops of his ears down to his shoulders at the noise. “Figure it out yourself.”

Goddess, have mercy.

The echo of his begging in the hall is horribly embarrassing, but worse than that is the shrieky hiccupping bouts of laughter he takes on when Felix’s hands make their way beneath his arms. He hasn’t been tickled in years, not since they were kids, but he’d always, always had the height advantage back then against Felix; no one besides Glenn knew how badly it tickled there, and he honestly thought he might’ve been able to take that information with him to the grave if not for the way Felix focused on his armpits now, relentless, and Sylvain shakes with renewed desperation as tears begin to bead in his eyes.

“FEHEHEHELIX! I’M GONNAHAHAA DIEHEHEHEHE!”

“Huh. You’re actually really ticklish.”

No shit. Felix shifts on him and Sylvain swallows as he’s reminded yet again of their position, of Felix right on him, thighs clamped around his hips. It’s too easy for his mind to spin back, a swaying pendulum vying to either melt into the floor to escape the tickling or lay there if it meant Felix would continue to touch him.

Touching him. Right. It’s Felix’s hands on him. Felix’s hands that are digging in all over him.

He’s going to explode.

“Oh, good morning.”

“Wha—Professor!”

Sylvain wheezes as he’s shoved away, hastily taking the opportunity to curl up and hide his crimson face as Byleth and Felix’s voices wash over him. What time must it be, for Byleth to be coming down this route? No doubt half the student population woke up to his screeching laughter—at least his reputation was bad enough he could get away with it. Sylvain rubs at his face, teeth clicking in embarrassment at the ticklish tears that have begun to fall, only to flinch at a poke to his side. “H-hey!”

“Pay attention.” Felix’s usual scowl has slid neatly back in place as he jabs Sylvain’s side again. His eyes flicker up to Sylvain, widening for a moment at the no doubt mess of his red, wet cheeks, before darting away again.

He isn’t the only one to notice. “Sylvain, are you crying?”

He shakes his head at Byleth’s question. “I’m fine, professor. Just, uh, got my ass handed to me.”

She quirks a brow. “Pretty early for an ass beating.”

He laughs at that, startled; his amused gaze flickers to Felix before his laugh takes on a flustered element when Felix meets his gaze openly, golden eyes searching his. “I—er, yeah? Right, Felix?”

Felix coughs, gaze dropping first. “It was deserved.”

“Hm. Well, I’m glad you’ve talked it out. Or beat it out,” Byleth pauses. “But I’m just here to check on the chores.”

The chores? Oh, the chores.

“Did you finish cleaning the weeds?”

“Ahaha…. About that… it’s a long story…?”

“Seteth should be at the lawn right now,” she hums, tapping her chin before amusement sparkles in her eyes. Sylvain swallows. “Knowing him… I’ll see you both after class for detention today?”

Both. Him and Felix, probably alone, with professor. He turns to Felix, mouth agape, but the other turns away the moment their eyes meet. It’s enough, though, for Sylvain to see the pink of his ears, the twitching of his cheek, the way his hands cross over his chin.

The hands that were under his shirt just minutes ago.

Aw fuck.

“We’ll be there, professor.”

He really needs to learn how to melt into the floor.

[tadpolesonalgae]

Hi hi! Im usually a lurker (first time sending anything in actually) I couldn’t help myself this time though and just really needed to say you are one of my favourite writers! Went from binging cbmthy to binging everything else. Thank you for sharing all the amazing writing🙇🙇 I hope you’re taking care of yourself!!💝🌸

…Moving forward…I’m sorry for my ramblings🫠 there’s just so much to talk and love about your stories

Ngl the first line of chapter 22 already made my heart ache🫠 just cause i felt it so deeply that reader almost routinely wants to talk to Bas. The thought of someone being such a big part of your life and just being gone one day over a terrible situation (whether it’s a good or bad thing that they’re gone), atp it’s so built into your routine that you can’t help but check on them or think of them even when you shouldn’t.

Idek how to feel about her sisters constantly wanting to buy things for her room. Cause I understand her sisters wanting to make her room feel more cozy again, and wanting to make her happy with the time she has left AND most importantly, conveying that it isn’t a “waste” to buy her things. BUT I ALSO UNDERSTAND READER’S MENTALITY AND I WILL ADMIT IVE GOTTEN FRUSTRATED IN SIMILAR SITUATIONS. Genuinely it does not feel good when you feel like you’re wasting other people’s money or time

Now Az…man Az…I’m probably in the minority of rooting for him even when the worst interactions happened between them (I say it’s cause I have massive faith in your writing ability to make their relationship come together☝️✨) BUT WJDJJWD I was almost thinking “just what is it that he wants??” Cause first, he’s the one who keeps seeking reader out now(? 2-3 times isn’t that many but I digress) while also flashing from decently warm (decently is important here) to extremely cold or indifferent.

“You kissed me back” EXCUSE ME? WHAT? LIKE- OKAY??? AND?? YOU DIDNT HAVE TO INITIATE IT ESPECIALLY WHEN YOU KNOW SHES SO DOWN BAD(???)

Okok and now the part I’m slightly confused about right? Now it’s very clear that reader isn’t the most emotionally stable and she is very very deadset on the belief that they hate her. So it wouldn’t surprise me if she took Az’s reaction wrong. What may look like ‘a horrible secret being revealed’, could actually be Az just- almost not knowing what to say to make things better? Or just…not knowing how to handle this? The line I’m questioning is “Azriel doesn’t care if she hit the nail on the head” how I took it is that what she said wasn’t necessarily correct but it doesn’t matter cause Az doesn’t want her to think he reciprocates but he also doesn’t want to reveal a “part of himself”👁️👁️ CURIOUS, VERY CURIOUS. And so he opted to be cold so she would hate him which I almost think that’s cause of his own deep rooted fears and hatred for himself (especially cause of the ‘if she thinks she’s in love with him, she should know how awful he is’ line). And that’s the part he doesn’t wanna expose to her (MAYBE??) as well as he actually probably pays way more attention to her than she thinks (Mr. I-know-you-have-a-small-scar-from-the-arrow)

Anyway that’s my rambling, please let me know if I misunderstood some of the text with Az!! THANK YOU FOR THE BEAUTIFUL, HEART WRENCHING CHAPTER, EXCITED ABOUT THIS PRISON BREAK SITUATION💝💝

‘Hi hi! Im usually a lurker (first time sending anything in actually)’

Ahhh hello!! Very happy to have you here (whether you’re lurking or chatting in 🧡💛)!

‘just really needed to say you are one of my favourite writers! Went from binging cbmthy to binging everything else.’

Really?? ☹️🫂🫂 I’m so happy you liked cbmthy enough to explore further! I hope none of it was too jarring to read—I imagine hopping from angsty cbmthy to smut riddled basically-everything-else might be a bit surprising at first 😭

Please do not worry about rambling, I love love love hearing from people and chatting!! 🧡💛 (I also find it very helpful too—anyone who’s been here since the beginning of cbmthy will be able to confirm I relied—and still do kind of—a lot on feedback to help me measure angst levels and steer the story progression 🫣)

‘Ngl the first line of chapter 22 already made my heart ache🫠 just cause i felt it so deeply that reader almost routinely wants to talk to Bas.’

Yes! And it’s not like anyone other than Mor might have any reason to go to the Winter Court so it’s like he’ll be completely out of reach once he’s gone!

Though while I think it will be painful for reader to lose him like that—in the way that he won’t be completely gone, but just far enough she can’t reach him—it might push her to venture further in attempts to find a way to get another third space for herself (or I guess technically second space, since she’s only really in the River House now with her sisters and the IC)? I think that might be exciting to see?

What you said about doing things out of habit though, expecting someone to be there once they’re not…do you think anyone might spot a single empty chair and pause? Or pass a pair of gloves and remember sensitivity in their fingertips? After six months has passed, I mean

‘Idek how to feel about her sisters constantly wanting to buy things for her room.’

Yes, even though Rhys is probably horrifically wealthy, and even if that wealth is extended to Feyre and her sisters, I don’t imagine reader would ever really feel like it was hers. Or that she’d earned it.

If reader could accept that offering I think things could be very happy though. Imagine having an entire space designed specifically you? With the colours you like, evidence of hobbies scattered around? A safe place to be?

Also being on the other end of reader’s illness, I think it would be natural to want to make someone’s life as happy and as comfortable as possible if you knew it was coming to the end. It’s just unfortunate there’s still that small barrier between them :/

‘Now Az…man Az…I’m probably in the minority of rooting for him even when the worst interactions happened between them’

Yes! Yes! Finally! I’ll shower you in metaphorical flowers!! Thank you!! I promise it’ll get better, just stick with me and everything will be fine!!

‘Cause first, he’s the one who keeps seeking reader out now’

I think it’s very funny that they keep meeting, and trying to have a normal conversation and just,,,failing,,,consistently 🤭

‘“You kissed me back” EXCUSE ME? WHAT? LIKE- OKAY??? AND?? YOU DIDNT HAVE TO INITIATE IT ESPECIALLY WHEN YOU KNOW SHES SO DOWN BAD(???)’

I adore that I could practically hear the indignant splutter through the screen 😭🧡💛

To be fair, in that moment Azriel thought that reader was accusing him of sexually taking advantage of her which is why he opposed her in a way that was kind of embarrassing for her, when reader was actually talking about Azriel using her to get a read on Elain (which yay, reader’s keeping that in mind now!!)

‘So it wouldn’t surprise me if she took Az’s reaction wrong.’

👀? To be fair, if she’s convinced herself that everyone hates her, I imagine convincing herself that Azriel might try to kill her out of revulsion wouldn’t be a tricky task 😭

‘The line I’m questioning is “Azriel doesn’t care if she hit the nail on the head” how I took it is that what she said wasn’t necessarily correct but it doesn’t matter cause Az doesn’t want her to think he reciprocates but he also doesn’t want to reveal a “part of himself”👁️👁️ CURIOUS, VERY CURIOUS.’

So I’m actually very curious to see how people interpreted this part because I think it’s the closest we’ve gotten so far to understanding an element of Azriel’s cold behaviour towards Reader?

I’m not going to elaborate on this part because it will be expanded upon later in the series and I don’t want to spoil anything, but yeah. It was fun to write those two paragraphs from Az’s perspective 🥲

‘as well as he actually probably pays way more attention to her than she thinks (Mr. I-know-you-have-a-small-scar-from-the-arrow)’

I want to say I ADORED that scene and I think reader was probably frozen from awe too. I mean, we know how flustered she gets from holding a conversation with him alone, not to mention when close proximity is added since Reader was obviously raised human, and time alone with a man + TOUCHING??? = Marriage. Horse and carriage. COURTING. (I’m being hyperbolic 😶)

Since I think that’s how reader’s been raised to view those things, I imagine she attributes much more meaning to them than any of the born-fae do, hence all the flushing and embarrassment and elevated heart rates 🤭

(That’s not to say that Azriel was flirting with her. More that they have different perspectives on how to display intimacy—also will be elaborated on—and while reader knows Azriel doesn’t mean those things in the way she understands them, that doesn’t remove their significance for her which makes her feelings much more difficult to temper :) )

Like him touching the spot atop her heart?? Much more intimate than a one night stand where it would only be physical nakedness 😭

‘Anyway that’s my rambling, please let me know if I misunderstood some of the text with Az!! THANK YOU FOR THE BEAUTIFUL, HEART WRENCHING CHAPTER, EXCITED ABOUT THIS PRISON BREAK SITUATION💝💝’

I loved reading you ramble and I’m so flattered you had so much to say about it!! Obviously I enjoy cbmthy since it takes up quite a lot of my time, so getting to hear people like yourself who’ve decided to read all the parts and then further decided to take some time to type messages out into my inbox? 🧡💛🫂🫂🫂

I love it, so much, so thank you for reading and enjoying!! I hope it continues to be a fun adventure! ☹️🫂

[circular-bircular]

sorry i just had an epiphany i think everuone already knows this but like. for AGES i have had issues with syscourse. ive always wondered why anti or pro endos wouldn't listen to the other side even when they're agreeing on something and ive always wondered why people think pro endos are grooming the other side and why people think anti endos are fascistic but its literally all just ignorance and closed-mindedness. and resistance.

i think there's this deep fear of looking at the other side and agreeing with them and this deep fear of being wrong and this deep fear of things you don't understand.

i think peopke genuinely have trouble putting themselves in eachother's shoes. especially since they're so scared of the other side being right. so they don't listen. an anti endo could be the most pri endo antuk endo in existence (if that makes sense) but because they use an arbitrary label that doesn't even have nuance people wont listen. and vice versa! and because people don't listen, because people dread the thought of even interacting positively with the other side, they get a lot of things wrong and have a very closed-minded view.

that's also why both sides are stereotyped as harassers. you can SEE harassment. but if you don't go out of your way to engage with people who are reasonable and nice, of COURSE you're only gonna see the people who go out of their way to break their DNI. because you don't even look into the rest of the people! you just take things at face value!

(general you is used here, this isn't at the blogger) pro endos and anti endos can have good posts! but you're so scared of the other side, you have this very detrimental us vs them mentality, you can't see why someone would feel the way they do, you have trouble understanding, so you dig in your heels and REFUSE to understand instead of TRYING.

so many problems, so many syscourse posts could have been avoided if people just LISTENED to the other side.

and now that ive had this epiphany, half of syscourse now seems silly and useless to ne.

I kind of want to tackle this from my own shoes (however ironic that may be).

When I was using syscourse labels like anti endo and pro endo, it was more than fear of realizing I was wrong about my beliefs. It was fear of isolation and harassment for interacting with the other side. I have been completely ostracized and traumatized in the past for interacting with the “wrong” person.

What broke me out of that was finally being so, so broken down by not understanding my own disorder that I finally reached out to @justanothersyscourse in an attempt to understand dysfunction VS disordered and what the fuck those words meant in context. I do not say this with any joking or levity, JAS unironically saved my life that day. Would I be alive today without that conversation? Probably, yes. But I wouldn’t be where I’m at in recovery. I’d be a very different Circ.

I was scared to reach out, even privately, because I figured JAS would make a post about it. He was supposed to be an Evil Anti Endo, after all, and clearly he would harass me. (I also have a lot of issues with tumblr messenger due to prior issues with users via DMs, so I was scared of harassment directly from him). And the thing was, I wasn’t really scared of JAS or his followers hunting me down if he made a post.

I was scared of what the pro-endos around me would do to me for “speaking with the enemy.”

Knowing what I know now, I’m shocked and alarmed at how many people are feeling this same way, but it’s not surprising. After all, current theories show that one of the core things that leads to the development of DID is disorganized attachment. Most CDD systems have no stable support structure. So… enter syscourse: a place where individuals are labeling themselves for you.

SAFE vs UNSAFE.

Anyone who isn’t the same label as you is labeled unsafe, because you can’t predict them; they’re not the stable, safe belief you know. And if you start interacting with UNSAFE, then suddenly, you are also deemed UNSAFE — meaning you lose the attachments you had.

It’s absolutely terrifying, and we’ve witnessed it time and time again in syscourse. I lost those pro-endos I used to have by becoming a “filthy high and mighty sysmed centrist.” I lost anti-endos by “traumatizing traumagenic systems and calling them endos.” I lost so many people, immediately isolated for my apparent crimes of Talking About The Other Point. 

The tag is filled with triggered, dissociative people, all screaming about various transgressions. Someone broke a DNI — unsafe. Someone fakeclaimed someone — unsafe.

And those laws and rules kept us alive! They were what was needed for so long. And maybe, just maybe, these people still need those rules to survive. Maybe it’s not yet safe enough for them to attempt the unsafe.

Today while working on the house, I finally burst out and shouted, “I need to be a bitch about this, and even if you yell at me, it’s the only way I can communicate: I need to do something alone!” I set a boundary and nothing more, but it took every last ounce of energy I had to set it, because I was going against every single brain pathway I had that dictates that setting boundaries is unsafe.

That’s what I see in syscourse, now.

I think it’s more than just, “they’re scared the other side is right.” I think it’s just… they’re scared. So many people are scared. And they can’t get out of it.

So they don’t ever try.