#and it always makes my own neurons activate for sure

[chloesimaginationthings]

This eye shape is so…

I love drawing Michael’s eyes wide and he gets the look✨

[gotham-daydreams]

i had a really random idea that activated a neuron in my head and wanted to share here if that's ok— neglected!reader and friend!reader crossover. increased angst potentials, increased relationship struggles.

idk if it's just me, but the cold knowledge and sudden realization that your family was only ever interacting with you to use you as a means of getting close to their original target (who i will be assuming is a friend of yours)? you should be feeling glad that they're finally, *finally* interacting with you, but it just makes you feel more sick. they talk to you, but never want to talk about *you,* if that makes sense, always their target. half-hearted attempts to try and be more discreet, but you can tell they really just want to probe out info about your friend from you. perhaps this even cements your belief that "oh. they're never going to care for me the way i used to care for them."?? im sick i will explode and become atoms for this hypothetical reader's sake. leaving them, and the family realization that in their own selfish goals, they lost something more valuable. only makes sense for them to get it back.

but perhaps it can also be them originally them trying to again, use you as a bridge between said target, only to become more obsessed with you somewhere down the line of continuous interactions. idk lots of thoughts here i am happy big and mentally normal about these giant group of costumed losers !!

I am in love with this idea... especially because you can do it both ways (with the reader either being a part of the fam, or just a 'friend' of one of the Batfam members that they kinda forgot about until now)!

I'll go into Acquaintance! Reader later, so for now I'll focus more on this other neglected sib reader :]

Can you imagine how absolutely heartbreaking finding out that they're just talking with you to get something out of you, at first? Like, okay, maybe reader is suspicious at first, of course, because why the hell is the family starting to acknowledge their existence now? Was it something they did? Something that caught the family's attention? Etc., etc., but the point is that maybe with a little effort and too little time, they begin to have a little hope. They began to think that the family actually cares about them now.

Like yeah, sure, they kind of dismiss their questions when the reader tries to bring up the changes and why things couldn't be like this before, and have an odd habit of giving short answers and moving onto other topics concerning their friend when the reader, again, tries to press even a little bit more for answers or responses, but that's just how it is, right?

It's nothing personal... the reader knows that, and even if it hurts sometimes, it's nothing to worry about, right? Besides, they wanted this... didn't they? They wanted to be noticed, to finally have the family's attention, to have something and they're finally getting that! They should be happy, grateful even... and they are! But... is it so selfish to want more? To want the family and some of their siblings to even be a little interested in the things they do? Instead of just asking about their friend all the time?

Maybe the reader even gets a little jealous, envious, even, as this goes on but I can see them being content with little. Ultimately a little scared to ruin a good thing, and to ruin this for themselves... even if it definitely doesn't feel as good as they had hoped it would be oh so long ago.

... And then, they figure out the truth. Either from overhearing some members of the family talking about it, other friend of theirs points it out/puts that idea into their head, or they just... notice it. Hell, all three of those things could happen - with the reader knowing on some subconscious level that things aren't as they seem and that the family is definitely trying to get something out of them (a thought they had at first, that didn't fully go away), and another friend of theirs (that the fam isn't going crazy over) sort of points out that it looks like the batfam is just using them to get to whoever (and maybe the reader dismisses it at first, but that moment only further plants that idea into their head), and the reader keeps noticing all of these little things from that moment and onward... only for everything to come crumbling down once they finally overhear that conversation.

Once they hear some of the members discussing what they should ask the reader, how they should go about it, and hell - maybe for the irony of it all, maybe even joking about the reader finding out about their little 'ploy'. Even going so far as to laugh and say how the reader will never find out because they're too stupid, too desperate to even really entertain the idea to its fullest. How even if they do think so... well, they can just string poor little reader along and distinguish the idea before it even becomes a problem. How they could use that to just further rope the reader in, and make them feel guilty until they forget all about the very idea of the family just using them... further securing themselves to be one of - if not the only - closest people to the reader, and therefore, much closer to their fixation.

It's... more than just heartbreaking for the reader, but not quite world shattering either. It's some odd in between feeling that hurts all the same. They knew, sure, and they always had the suspicion- but it fucking hurts.

Somehow, knowing hurts more in that moment - just the reader knowing and having their suspicions confirmed hurts worse than anything they've ever felt. It doesn't quite feel like betrayal, or maybe it does - they aren't sure, but at the same time that description doesn't feel quite right. Though that's because they feel partially at fault. Like they did this to themselves, and they do feel guilty, but for only putting themself through this.

They should've known better. They should've listened to their gut. They should've never let this happen- they are at fault as much as the family is...

But can they fully blame themself? They got a glimpse of what it was like to be part of the family. A glimpse into the life they always wanted... could they really blame themself for taking that chance when they saw it? For trying to seize that opportunity even if it was never really there? Could they blame themselves for trying to look past all the signs, because they too wanted something out of it? Because they just wanted to be part of the family that badly, even if it was all a lie?

It hurts, and the reader leaves quietly. They don't burst into the room and confront everyone - no, they just walk away. Too consumed in their own grief and feelings to do much else besides that. I imagine that they don't even make it to their room, and hell, maybe one of the other Batfam members find them, but just looking at them makes the reader cry harder.

If they literally run away from the person, or not, is really up to interpretation at the moment, but either way they manage to find some alone time to themselves, and just... let it all out. The reader, in that moment, allows themself to grieve over the lose of a family they never had, and after all is said and done, I can imagine that they try to distance themselves- but are smart in how they do so.

The reader tries to get the family closer to their friend, while also limiting the amount of the the reader is actually around both the friend and the family. Basically just trying to put everyone in a position where they don't need a middleman - where the reader doesn't have to be involved anymore, and basically just... giving the reader an opportunity to truly distance themself from the family.

Sure, the reader might still try to hang out with the family's current fixation, but I can see them be willing to sacrifice time with that person just to further get away. It hurts to do it, and they don't want to, but they figure that, with enough time, once the family chills the fuck out, they'll hopefully be able to sort of go back to how things were. If not? Then... well, they'll just have to learn how to live with that, and they hope that their friend can forgive them.

Don't get me wrong, I could totally see the reader trying to find ways to get their friend out of the position, but the batfam is one tricky foe.. so they settle for what they can, but maybe they're still trying to do what they can. (Or maybe they think that this is the best course of action since... well, maybe they overheard some other talks afterwards? Who knows)

It could also be that, through the reader's attempt to leave, and them trying to eliminate themself from the equation entirely could be a huge turning point for the Batfam in terms of them turning yandere (aka, if they weren't yan before, they definitely are now. and those that are, are even worse than before). A real "you don't know what you had until it's gone" kinda deal, and it's gotta be hilarious to see the fam just scramble for something, and to kind of 'catch' the reader until they're truly gone... which, to add to the humor- the reader is probably already trying to move out of Gotham by that time LMAO

[winterr77]

ੈ✩ Habits for your academic life

Below are some habits and rules to keep in mind throughout your studies and some tips that will elevate your learning experiences.

☆ Setting boundaries and learning to say no

It is always easy to say yes and join every social event that one is invited to, however its crucial to consider your own personal life and the consequences of your decisions. Hanging out with friends is a needed event as a social creature, however it's better to exercise caution and know when to say "no" to focus on your own goals and dreams. Don't get pulled into the pace of others and focus on finding a routine and schedule that works for your own benefit.

☆ Being comfortable with your own company

You will find in uni that there are lots of times that you will spend alone, and maybe feel a little anxious that you're the only person who isn't constantly in the company of someone everyday like you maybe were in high school. However, realise that even the time to yourself is a time of value, and treasure those moments to focus and work on your own goals. It is easier to get lost and lose sight of your ambitions when with others who don't have the same aspirations as yourself. Use your own time to sit down and work out what you want to achieve and quietly put in the effort to win.

☆ Never being scared to ask questions

It can be quite daunting to ask questions in lectures, so I prefer to ask my questions during times that aren't forced into a short time interval, such as tutorials, office hours, and other forms of learning support that your university/college provides. This way there is no rush to answer my questions and take my time in working through concepts and ideas. Ask questions based on your own conclusions, questions that challenge current rules and perspectives. Think deeper into your lessons and seek to make use of every bit of information.

☆ Being curious

This is very much related to the point above, that being that personal interest really aids with the brains memory retention. The more things you approach with an enthusiastic attitude, the easier it is for your brain to remember and categorise. Having curiosity, even if it is forced, gives a great advantage where you seek to interconnect the information you learn with other data, and grow more networks of neurons that allows your brain to stay healthy and active.

☆ Initiating contact

Struggling with a theory or assignment? Great, it shows that you are actively trying to understand a concept and working your brain muscles. Now the best way to comprehend or complete what you are struggling with is to access support materials. Still difficult? Reach out. Your teachers, professors, tutors are all there for your benefit. Use them intelligently and squeeze every drop of assistance and support from them while they are still available to you.

☆Watching educational content to aid your studies

You can never lose from learning a bit more every day. However make sure to fact check and find your information from trusted and quality sources. In general, it's always a win to be educated in various topics from health, sciences, arts, humanities and more to gain a better understanding of ourselves, our world, and humanity.

For example, I watched a ted talk today, and here is my conclusions from my notes:

ੈ✩TedX: Why Reading Matters by Rita Carter

Summary:

☆Your brain needs a workout as much as your body. And reading fiction seems to be one of the best workouts you can get. (I recommend quality fiction, with that being classic literature because it genuinely exercises your mind with its intricate language techniques and diverse vocabulary)

☆Not only is it good for you, but it's also good for society as a whole because the brain is like a muscle: the more you force yourself through books to take other people's perspectives, to sympathise, to empathise with other people, the more empathetic a society we will have.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

good luck lovelies

~winter

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧₊˚

[lynn-tged-posting]

tged webtoon ep 172 spoilers and thoughts that are actually very happy about this episode because we got a lot of good panels i really liked the art for this week and more below the cut

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BEFORE WE BEGIN. I NEED EVERYONE TO SEE. JAVIER BLUSHING AT LLOYD LOOK AT HIM THIS IS SO FUCKING CUTE OH MY GOOD GOD ALDKFJLSKJFLSKDJF!??!?!?!?

he's embarrassed at his lord which means he is blushing about lloyd on a technicality which means yes llovier is real. thank you goodnight. HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAA

i am so serious when i saw this panel i started yelling and kicking and smacking every solid object with my hands within a two foot radius. jesus christ. jumpscare of the century in the best way possible. i love this panel so much. javier is very cute. and he's blushing bc of lloyd. WAHOO!

anyway lloyd and his dramatic ass,,, my god he's such a loser goofball /aff WAHAHA it's okay lloyd i think you're cool,,, even if no one else agrees,,, obsessed with how his eyes are a diff color and how there's just smoke slipping past his lips HELLOOO

i think given the chance suho could have been a theater kid or smth. i'd believe it.

more of javier being embarrassed by his lord LMFAOOO GOD THEY'RE SO CUTE AND STUPID

we also got more panels and info about credos!!! yay!!! lloyd's reaction to the rock paper scissors reveal was really good LMFAOOO

it seems like,,, jang-cheol!credos really didn't want to die, not at the hands of the protagonist and certainly not at the hands of his own people, so he introduced korean-style rock paper scissors and gave it enough flair so that the demons would believe it's a proper way of dueling,,, it's a clever n smart solution it just comes across as silly to people who know what it really is AHAHAHA

"that too is a teaching of the great credos" LMFAOOO he probably couldn't really figure out how to embellish it that much so just left it as is HAHAHAHAHA AND JAVIERS "?????" LOL

giggled very badly at how tense this panel appears surrounded by chanting of ROCK PAPER SCISSORS! ROCK PAPER SCISSORS! LMFAO

like,,, this is SERIOUS,,, ROCK PAPER SCISSORS TO DECIDE YOUR FATE,,,!!!! HAHAHAHAHA

AND FINALLY THE PANEL WHERE LLOYD THROWS OUT BOTH SCISSORS AFTER STARTLING THE DEMON I REALLY LIKE THE WAY THIS PANEL LOOKS IDK HOW TO EXPLAIN IT. STUPID CLEVER IDIOT. OF COURSE HE'D DO THAT. CHEATING LOSER. THAT'S SMART. GUARANTEED WIN. I HATE YOU /AFF

and everyones reactions HAHAHAHAA i fucking love how scuffed the legends behind this stuff are LOL

it does make me wonder,,, how these legends even come to be?!? who the hell was writing the knight of blood and iron??? lmfao??? like first the one with the lightspeed runner with the centaurs, and now this??? is credos behind this legend specifically, is this part of the bullshitting he had to do to get the demons to believe him? I'M VERY AMUSED AND SUPER CURIOUS LOL

and then lloyd trying to be cool again,,, you were VERY cool lloyd I LOVE THIS PANEL A LOT IT'S VERY VERY COOL!!! i love love love the composition of the art this week it's great!!!

plus javier's reaction HAHAHAHAHAHHA

i actually really liked the episode this week!! the pacing feels a little bit better than the last couple of episodes, i'm not sure if i can properly explain why i feel that way but it definitely feels better to me! but also, i have no idea whether or not this falls in line with the novel context so others may have differing opinions LMFAOOO

i think in general i really liked the art in this episode, the panels really were super awesome this week! and the overall gags were both hilarious and gave more world-building info (in a very indirect way haha) which i really liked. i always love tearing that stuff apart and coming to my own conclusions about Why these characters do what they do, so that made me happy/satisfied hehe

still thinking about that blushing javier panel. jesus that is like a DRUG. i feel my neurons activate every time i see it. CHRIST

i really really hope the next episodes keep up this pace! i like that they spent time to build up the rock paper scissors punchline/explanation, bc it makes it easier to feel like there are things happening. it was harder in the earlier eps for this arc (specifically 169, where we breezed past the eight demon kings - it felt fast bc while the solution was simple, we didn't have build up or time spent with them!) but now we're actively giving time for the punchline / for the action to run its course, which i really like. YAY!

that's all from me this time, i'm very excited to see what they'll do next,,, finally the railroad will be started!!! see y'all then!!!

[numberonetacostan]

more taco thoughts.... I think tacomic is the kind of couple to go off and make out somewhere but anyways. I love knife always being there to take care of taco because OF COURSE HE FUCKING DOES. I am obsessed with him also being pretty used to see a dejected and hurt taco that is like this close to run away back into the woods, he sees himself in her nd to an extend her understands her pain. He also doesn't want to see her hurting herself and so I think there will be times where he just picks her up as if she was some cat, taco if PISSED for something and its on the brink of a breakdown acting impulsively and poisonous because its what feels safer in that moment, and knife just- picks her up. And manages to tire her out and to everyone's surprise girl ends passing out cold, he lets her sleep by his side and smiles, and just doesn't bring it up to her later. I keep saying there will a point where pickle sees hurt taco or at least glimpses of her because of this. Knife cares for her too in his own little way so he goes out of his way to make sure taco is at the very least stable enough to be on her own, taco doesn't get it at all but doesn't do anything about it unless it gets too personal. Knife is perceptive I think he knows how to outsmart her into admitting things she wouldn't otherwise and taco loathes it. Knife doesn't do that unless he has to but taco feels so violated everytime she just shuts up and becomes smaller, she hates being seen and she wants to make herself as small as possible, and like I said of course pickle would see these types of moments between them because well he and knife are close, and despite everything both of them have a thing in common and is that they do not want taco to destroy herself in spite of what they may feel towards her. So, maybe pickle tags along from time to time, gently pats her shoulder or give her a blanket. And smiles when he hears taco giving him a small 'thank you' they wont ever be friends, or the same ever again but both of them are alright with that at some point, they have this solidarity and its the best outcome they both can get. They don't have to be friends again but, who is prohibiting them from being silly from time to time? to find some common ground? and so I think that's how they go.

Hi Kiara!!!^^ Welcome back, and thank you for sending in an ask!!! :)

hbehbhe Taco and Mic going off to make out. They come up with an excuse to go off on their own but everyone knows what they're doing. Taco has lived in the woods for years she knows the best and most private places for kisses. Another couple might hit her up to find a good spot, hehe.

Knife and Taco relationship neuron activation!! I'd make a long post about them if I didn't have 0 confidence in my analysis ability lol. But yeah he'd be keeping an eye out for her, and would definitely do something if he saw her upset or falling apart, even if that something was getting Mic or someone else who could give her a softer touch if that's what she needs. He would absolutely be reigning her in if she's about to snap at someone. He knows how hard it can be to keep a handle on your temper sometimes, yeah? Especially for the two of them. She'd be thankful for it later on, but definitely not in the moment. And she would not admit it. Her self care is awful so she'd probably get angry or snappy because she's hungry a lot, yeah? He'd totally just pick her up and drag her to kitchen to eat something. I think they'd flip each other off in the hallways but that's how they get along <3. It's a friendly middle finger <3.

I don't know if it would be Knife outsmarting her, per say, but rather getting her riled up enough that she'd say things she normally doesn't. Similar to how he riles her up during Truth or Flare, yeah? But yeah I can see her giving him the silent treatment for at least a week after that. She would not be happy. I really like the idea of Pickle and Taco finding solidarity/common ground post-finale, despite not becoming friends again. She brings him a cup of tea when he's been gaming on the couch for 10 hours straight, he doesn't tell anyone if he spots her in a hiding place, that sort of thing, yeah? Especially after the reveal, I think.

[leggerefiore]

Can I request domestic fluff hcs with Nanu?? 🥺

arghhh um replay has done damage to my neurons by showing me Old Man again

🐈‍⬛️Nanu❤️‍🩹

🌑 He would never think himself the domestic type. His inability to cook, his laziness about cleaning, and his overall disinterest in a relationship before you came around. It takes a bit of adjustment on his part to get used to engaging in domestic activities with his partner, as he struggles to even call them anything apart from their name for a while. Basically, you will have to teach him a bit of what to do. He is a tired old cat man with not many interests in his life.

🌑 Nanu gets a bit flustered when you go out of your way to make food for him. He can easily go pick up something in Malie or make something out of his endless supply of instant noodles, yet here you are making him a nice meal. The old man eats it and feels like something so enjoyable is wasted on him. He still finds it in himself to thank, however. With how your eyes light up, he knows you are going to cook for him again soon. He tries to make things for you, but he does not get much fancier than a sandwich. His feeding abilities for other people start and end at opening a can and putting it in a bowl.

🌑 A change he can admit he likes is the feeling of coming home to you after doing whatever Kahuna duties had called out to him. While he never really felt alone, due to his collection of Meowths and Acerola's usual visits, coming home to you is a calming thing. Someone he can quietly sit with – someone who lets him just unwind and chat about his day vacantly. Just like with his beloved felines, he can be with you without worrying about being judged. It really puts him at ease. Especially, when you let him lay his head in your lap and just let him de-stress from his work. At least, until a Meowth wanders up and starts whining for attention.

🌑 He does, admittedly, try to keep his home a bit cleaner. There is little he can do about the Meowths and their preferred items, but he tries to make it a bit more presentable as a home. Granted, it still is obviously a police station, but he is trying. You also aid in the cleaning efforts, helping make sure his home does not fall into the Kahuna's usual droughts of energy. It does feel a bit more energising to have a clean home to return to, he notices. Some days you both find yourselves quietly cleaning up the station together. He enjoys it more than he would like to ever say aloud.

🌑 Small things that change also seem to feel oddly right to him. Going to the store with you for groceries feels like something that he has always been doing, sharing a meal at a restaurant feels as if he never used to regularly show up alone, and even spending time with Acerola feels more familiar with you there to help him. It is such a strange feeling for him to process. Even watching you help him care for his Meowths makes him feel as if this is how everything should have been for him. He finds himself a bit lost on why this is for a while.

🌑 Even just having your body pressed against his own as the Alolan moon softly shines in through a window makes him realise how much he has come to enjoy this change in his life. You bury your head into his nape while he holds you lazily, genuinely makes him crack a grin. In his twilight years is when he finally found someone he could live like this with, it almost drew a chuckle from him if he knew it would not awaken you. His life had become strangely cohabitated by you, and nearly everything he did seemed to somehow draw his mind back to you, too. He wanted to shake his head at the torment. Just as he began to doze off, he realised how much he truly enjoyed spending his nights snuggled up to you.

🌑 He slowly finds himself accustomed to an everyday that is spent with you at his side. Sporadically, he even finds himself letting you join him for his Kahuna duties if it is not anything dangerous (he will absolutely not let you near an Ultra Beast unless he is certain you are a competent trainer). There is something that makes the tasks more bearable if he can turn to you and just be aware of your presence. There is soon a running theory from locals that was started by Acerola that you two are married, and he finds himself oddly entranced by it. Maybe one day soon he would make that a reality, if he did not drop dead first.

[elliebyrrdwrites]

Dramione Blurb 2.0

It wasn’t his fault. Not really.

How could one take responsibility for something they are unable to control?

It wasn’t as if he had said anything.

One might say that he could have made a different expression. Or no expression, at all. Which was something he was usually very good at, of course. A mask he donned when it suited him best, expressionless.

Of course, until today.

To be fair, Draco Malfoy didn’t know he was making any expression at all. Because he had been overwhelmed with the vibrant array of emotions in...wherever emotions are felt. He knew that emotions are the result of activated neurons that originate somewhere in the cerebral cortex. So, the brain, essentially is what he was saying. Which he thought was funny because all of his emotions seemed to radiate from somewhere below his neck. Depending on the emotion, it might originate from his stomach, or from the center of his chest. It most frequently radiated somewhere around his groin often enough that it caused him to think scientists in general were all full of shit. Regardless, all of the bodily areas seemed to be radiating with emotion.

He didn’t force Weasley to address him.

“Is there a problem, Malfoy?” The Weasel was facing him, now. Not the woman who used to be a girl.

A girl who had lived a thousand lives by the time she was nineteen years old. A girl, who was never just any girl. Not when he first met her. Not ever.

Always very sure of herself, that one. Even when he had tried his best to make her second guess that self assurance. The last time he had seen her, he had seen less of the girl he had known, her eyes haunted and a general harder exterior encasing her once vibrant aurora.

But she wasn’t a girl anymore. Hermione Granger had morphed into a woman.

He also didn’t tell his legs to move forward, to approach the oaf and look down his nose at the boy who had grown to be her man. “Other than being subjected to the sight of you man handling Granger, no. You do realize you paw at her like a dog, right?”

Weasley blushed a red angrier than the hair on his head. “Mind your own business, asshole.”

Brilliant. Clever, as always. Was what he thought. What he said was far more incriminating. It was the start, really, to this story. It could have technically started seven years ago, that day outside the courtroom. The courtroom where his father was destined to be sentenced to a life in prison. The same courtroom that had sentenced his mother to a year of house arrest.

It’s just that he had always assumed that he had ended that brief reprieve from reality. It was a quick glimpse into a maybe. An almost. A what could have been.

But it would have, undoubtedly, sent Granger into a world of danger and Draco would have been spending the entirety of his life looking over his shoulder. Looking after hers.

And so, he had not dived into that thread of fate that might have been. Instead, he had doomed himself to a life of obsessively watching after her from afar. Fucking and dating women he didn’t actually care about. It caused her anger for him to reignite into a hatred much more volatile than than the version she had for him back in school.

But he couldn’t help himself now. He had finally agreed to Dawlish’s offer of joining the DMLE and coincidentally had been assigned as Potters new partner after his former partner had left the DMLE.

His former partner was still staring at him with the kind of hate that spanned centuries, caused wars. And little did he know that the war had began ages ago and not because of blood status but for the reason most wars begin.

A girl.

The girl who was now a woman and was now peeking out from behind Weasley’s arm, big brown eyes trained on Draco. And he watched them widen as he finally responded to Weasley’s brilliantly uncreative response to Draco’s insult. Mind your own business [enter your typical mundane insult].

“She is my business.” Was the response that Draco should not have said. But he did. And really, like mentioned before, it was unrestrained. Unsanctioned! And therefore, not his fault.

He should have expected the fist that came for his cheek. He should have been watching Weasley and not Granger. But her pretty little lips had parted and formed a little O as she locked eyes with his. There was something fascinating about watching the way her eyes lit with fury. A fury he realized he had been missing, terribly, all these years.

Of course, the captivity that her face held him in, did distract him. Prevented him from realizing that the Weasel had launched himself forward. Stringy arms reached out and a fist clipped him across the face, sending heat and pain to spread and pulse.

And you know, once a man is swung at, what can one do but react instinctually. It was beyond his control, the way his own left arm had pulled back before landing heavily against his opponents mouth. None, whatsoever, when his legs launched him forward and his arms wrapped around the man’s abdomen, sending them both onto the floor.

And so there, in the middle of Harry Potter’s foyer, did Draco Malfoy finally declare his intentions while simultaneously destroying an old Black heirloom upon his first visit to Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

The orb, which resembled that of a Crystal ball ala Sybill Trelawney, was jostled from it’s perch on the entry table and rolled slowly down the length of the runner that was placed over the table.

Draco was oblivious to this, of course, as he was too busy rolling over, pressing Weasley onto the floor below him and then digging his elbow into the man’s clavicle.

“Oi!”

Potter was shouting at them and Granger might have been rolling her eyes into the back of her head as the men continued to throw each other around. It was impressive, really, that two men could hate each other so much and still result in things like fists rubbing furiously into the top of ones head.

“Is Ron giving him a noogie?” Harry murmured and Granger sighed the kind of sighed that should have been saved for a god being rudely awaken after a millennia of sleep.

In short, nobody seemed to pay much mind to the heirloom that was precariously perched on the edge of the table. Waiting for the next bump by a leg or a shoulder.

Incidentally, it was Draco’s ankle that caught and thwacked the leg of the table. It hurt more than Weasley’s right hook.

And it was the shattering of a crystal that caused the fight to come to a halt. The scattering of a hundred little shards spraying across the entirety of the foyer.

Both Draco and Weasley pulled apart to look over at the mess. Just in time to see a cloud vapor explode from the floor where the orb had landed and broken.

It billowed up into the air and hung momentarily before it pulled apart. All of the bits of gaseous particles together looked like a cloud of mist. Pulled apart, they became colorless and so miniscule and numerous that they disappeared as they all dispersed into the air, vaporizing into nothing.

The four of them remained frozen before one by one, they all looked at one another. It was Weasley who finally spoke first.

“What the bloody hell was that?”

Harry frowned down at the remaining mess of broken crystals scattered about the floor. “I dunno. It came with the house. Some Black family heirloom, I would imagine.”

“That doesn’t make any of us feel better.” Weasley murmured, then sneered and looked to his right. “Except maybe for you.”

Ah, well technically, yes. He was a Black, but mostly, he was a Malfoy. Even more than all that, he didn’t care to be either.

“Does anyone feel ill?” Harry asked, apparently worried that it was some sort of airborne poison.

Granger remained quiet but all of them shook their heads.

Draco rose to his feet and glanced at Granger. Evidence of anger still echoed on her features, and she refused to meet his eyes. He shrugged and stepped toward Potter. The heel of his dragon hide Oxfords crunched into the tiny pieces of orb.

“Why did you keep all this garbage anyway, Potter?” He sneered over at the wall where a portrait was covered with a sheet.

“Cursed, besides it reminds me of Sirius, so I haven’t actually looked too deeply into removing it all.” Harry’s eyes widened just slightly at the confession before he refocused his attention to the mess with a sigh. “Clean this mess up, guys.” He then turned his back on them and disappeared into a door that led him back into the kitchen.

Weasley finally stood and held out a hand for Granger. “Hungry, ‘Mione?”

She shook her head and watched as Draco began to clean up the debris from the floor. From his clothes, his hair.

“Come with me, yeah?”

“I don’t want to.” She murmured before slapping a hand over her mouth.

Draco snickered and pocketed his wand.

“What are you even doing here, Malfoy?” Weasley rounded on him, projection obvious.

“Potter invited me over, not that it’s any of your business.” Draco dusted a miniscule bit of crystal from the lapel of his blazer. “Confidential, and all that, of course. What are you doing here?”

He watched as the man bristled, his lips pursing together before, “I came to see Hermione and see if she might hear me out.” His cheeks flared.

Pressing his mouth together, Draco flicked his gaze to Granger to find her heaving a great sigh. She only ever wore her emotions on display. It was something that he didn’t understand, and still, it was something he loved. He felt like setting a chair down and watching her react to every day things in her life. Like some sort show that he could attend daily. He’d probably never grow tired of the performance.

Right now she looked like several emotions were warring with one another as she stared at the scene, still pressed up against the wall beside the front door.

“Well, Granger? Care to hear him out?”

“I don’t know.” The words were pulled out slowly, as if she was expecting a reaction the second they left her mouth.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “It means, opposing the idea that she does know, she clearly does not.”

“Why are you suddenly so interested in what Hermione wants anyway, Malfoy?”

“I’ve always cared what she wants.” The words sprung forth without censor. Without his minds permission. Draco was not to blame for many of the things that had just transpired. The look, the declaration of her business being his, nor the first that flew into Weasley’s mouth. But this new declaration was different. It was true, surely, but it sprung forward before he was able to formulate a reply inside of his head.

“You’re such a liar!” Granger suddenly hissed. Weasley’s alarmed look shifted from Draco to Hermione.

“I am.” Draco admitted. Again, unintentionally. “But not right...now?” He was carefully forming his words, worried that one would fly forth, completely unsanctioned before he could finish pulling the well thought out ones from his mind.

“Convincing.” Weasley snorted before turning to her. “Look, we had a good time the other night, right? It was like we were back where we used to be.”

“Which is to either fight or fuck.” Granger said just before a hand clamped over her mouth. Her wide eyes moved to Draco before dipping to the floor where the orb had broken. “Blood Black heirloom.” The words spewed from her mouth like a curse as she pushed away from the wall and rushed into the kitchen.

Draco and Weasley exchanged looks of first, bewilderment, followed promptly by similar looks of disdain.

The men both entered the kitchen where Harry was still pouring over the files on the table. The files that Draco had brought with him for him and Potter to go over. Which they were, when he had excused himself to use the loo. It was a rouse, of course. He had heard the murmuring of voices in the hallway, immediately identifying Grangers through the heavy door.

Potter looked up at them, haunted eyes that once belonged to a boy who lived. Now he was a man who had died.

The current files strewn in front of him were some of the more gruesome crimes he had seen in his entire career as an Auror and Draco felt inclined to let him know that he had discovered a lot about this particular assailant.

Because it was Draco who had started to notice a pattern that the rest of the world had apparently been blind to.

Muggle women had been disappearing, only to re-emerge. Their lifeless bodies were typically found naked and discarded in a field or a riverbed somewhere deep in a forest. At first it was just the bodies sans life. No abrasions denoting strangulation, mutilation or internal damage.

And then one of the women — a beautiful young woman with brown hair, freckled skin, and frighteningly reminiscent of a girl from his past — had appeared in the middle of a wheat crop of some muggle farmer by the name of Buckley.

The woman, like the others, had no visible signs of damage to her body. Nothing to tell them how she had died. There were the typical signs of rape but no mortal injury marred her body.

There was, however, a mark burned into the center of her chest. Fresh, the investigators had said, and burned into her like she were cattle. A six petalled flower inside of a circle. The brand was performed before death, the medical examiner had said. Which meant the woman had been alive when her killer had burned her, seared away at her skin.

Draco knew he was seeing the work of an evil man. He knew it was a wizard that was snatching women. Torturing and raping them. And eventually, he would burn them.

Two more beautiful muggle women turned up dead before a witch disappeared. She was a half-blood witch who had married a muggle. Some bloke she had grown up down the street from, fallen in love with. He cried to the media, begged his wife’s captors to please return her safely. All he cared was that she be returned home safe and alive.

She didn’t.

The day a muggle found her body in the woods behind his home, naked and branded, was the day that Draco finally took the offer Dawlish had extended to him only weeks prior.

Draco looked over at Granger who was busy making herself a cup of coffee. Cream, one sugar.

He watched the lift of her brow as she took her first sip. Pleasantly content with the first touch of caffeine after a rather eventful morning.

She stood amid a window by the sink, and the soft rays of light bending through the glass formed a bit of a halo around the curls she had piled on the top of her head.

She was dressed in a pair of fuzzy pink slippers, a pair of thin pajama shorts and a white camisole. All snug and glorious against the subtle tan of her skin, the curves that caused him to go into temporary bouts of insanity and all beneath a fuzzy pink robe that hung open. Her body taunted him.

For years, her body taunted him. From afar. From memory.

It was a Saturday, which meant she didn’t have to work today. But what did Hermione Granger spend her weekends doing? Did she go for walks? Visit museums? Put herself at the mercy of a predator that might very well be stalking her?

Draco ran a hand over his face, unable to fight against the discomforting anxiety that bloomed in the center of his chest.

“Why wont you just talk with me, Hermione?”

Her words came out slowly, dragged out and punctuated by little pauses. “I am talking to you.” She nodded, as though satisfied with herself.

“I mean about the other night.” Weasley was moving toward her, ready to corner her against the sink.

Draco should have sat down, obviously. And he did, but not before his mouth moved.

“She’s confused, you idiot.”

“Shut up, Malfoy.”

“Can you guys take this upstairs?” Harry asked, irritably. “We’re trying to work.”

“What are you working on?” Grangers eyes brightened, eager for the distraction and pushed past Ron.

Draco tensed in his seat and his eyes met Harry’s. Neither wanted to tell her what exactly the threat to her life may be. But neither, apparently, could fight the urge to be honest.

“Serial killer.” Draco said the same time Harry said, “Killer targeting witches.” They both glared at each other.

“Oh.” Her voice was gentle. Deflated, as she approached the table. Her eyes scanned the photo on display in the file Harry was currently holding open.

“Oh, fuck me.” Ron was standing behind her, looking over her shoulder. At the photo of the woman.

It was the woman who had first appeared with the mark on her chest. Her pale, almost blue skin on display as her blank and unseeing eyes stared back at the camera.

“How did you get ahold of all this, Malfoy?” Harry asked, closing the folder.

Draco rolled his eyes at the now obvious situation. Which was that the orb had, apparently, contained some vaporized dosing of Veritaserum. Which, of course a fucking Black wizard would create something so uselessly ruthless. He didn’t know if the entire house was now cursed to compel any occupant to speak truthfully, or if the spelled potion would eventually wear off. Or if they were forever cursed to speak in truths instead of the intricately woven lies that everyone used day to day.

“I polyjuiced my way into the investigative team that was first sent to respond to this one.” He nodded to the file. “That led me into a back trail that had possible links to this woman. No visible signs of trauma, all otherwise healthy women who appeared naked and dead in the middle of field or floating downstream.”

“You stole all of this, then?” Granger’s self righteousness was so hypocritical but he didn’t need to point that out. Instead, he scowled at her and said,

“Yes.” And then he was hit with a rather brilliant and rather cruel idea. He had had enough of this rather offensive display of interrelationship turmoil. “So, Granger.” He sat back and crossed his arms over his chest.

A hand went to her hip, shoving the robe behind her elbow. The flare of her hip pulled his eyes down, to the way her shorts tightened around her pelvis. In between her legs and at her thighs.

“Tell me,” He dragged his eyes back to meet hers. “Do you remember the day we kissed?”

“What?” Simultaneous yells of disbelief from both Potter and Weasley. “Get serious!”

But it was Granger who was staring bug eyed, hand clasped tight over her mouth that held his attention. She somehow managed to muffle her response, which was lost to the shouts of her best friends.

“You’re an ass.” She was seething, now.

“Do you still think about it?” He lowered his voice and purposefully slid his eyes to her mouth.

“Yes.” She whispered, a reflex due to the Veritaserum that had sunk into their pores. She closed her eyes, pressed her lips together, and sighed.

“You’re telling me,” Weasley started. “That you kissed Malfoy?”

With her eyes still closed, she slowly nodded. “Yes.”

The entire room stilled. Everyone was watching her. The blush that burned into her skin, all the way from her chest up her neck and into her cheeks.

“When?”

“Seven years ago.” She was responded with the sense of detachment that only Veritaserum could cause.

“But we kissed seven years ago! Was this before or after?”

Draco watched her shift uncomfortably, the hand that had been perched onto her hip was now picking nervously at the tie of her robe. “After.”

“How could you!” Weasley looked devastated. So much so that Draco might have felt a flicker of remorse.

“We hadn’t actually started anything up, yet, Ron. We kissed during the battle but we hadn’t talked about what we were and we didn’t kiss until we did decide.” Her eyes flicked to Draco. “You kissed me.”

He nodded.

“And then you disappeared.” Her voice was calloused with an emotion he didn’t understand. Pain she didn’t deserve.

“I did.” He admitted.

“And now you’re here,” Her index finger pointed to the floor. “And you’re purposely injecting yourself into mine and Ron’s affairs. Why?”

Draco took a deep breath and tried to formulate an honest answer that wouldn’t, once again, confess his unyielding love.

“Why would you do that?” She pressed him.

Everyone was now staring at him. The words were bubbling up his throat, and he fought so hard he thought he might suffocate from the battle.

“Tell me, Malfoy.” She stepped up to him, looking down her curved little nose at him.

He tried to shake his head, clasping a hand over his mouth.

“What do you want!” She finally shouted.

Draco sprung to his feet and his body was no longer under his control. The potion was evil. It didn’t just cause your mouth to speak truths, it forced your body to.

Because now he was nearly pressing into her and he was glaring down at her stubborn little face and his eyes couldn’t stop moving around, gathering information. Like the way her fine hairs at her forehead and her temples were a lighter shade of brown. Almost golden against her skin. Or the fact that she had a little beauty mark just there, beside the corner of her left eye. It was faint, but gods, did it drive him mad.

“You, you insufferable witch!”

[themostsanebug]

BROTHER!!!

Free pass to ramble about Harry cuz I know you like him and I'm sure you've got lots to say about him. I'll even provide a few questions if that makes it easier!!!

Puts on glasses I never wear even though I'm supposed to and reads said questions

AHEM

•How'd you first find out you liked Harry? Was it like a slow realization over time, or a sudden, "Oh fuck what wait I like this guy??!" Kinda deal?

•What about Harry made you so drawn to him? Like, outta all the phone fellas, why him specifically?

•What're some headcannons you have about him? If you have any of course.

And of course, if you've got anythin else to say about him, go ahead! This is your blog. You're allowed to be insane over that man all you want

what is it with everyone else i know whose supposed to wear glasses not wearin em.... /silly BUT OUGH YES THANK YOU FOR THE. time to be insane :3c

OKAY FIRSTLY!!!!! it was. sorta slow? im still really fuckin confused about how this happened myself. LIKE. MY FEELINGS ARENT EVEN THAT STRONG I JUST BECOME INSANE OVER HIM SOMETIMES THEN IT DIES DOWN EHVEHDHS. but it started around the time i introduced moon to the blog i interact with harry on!!!!!!

THIS ONE? I GENUINELY HAVE NO CLUE HELP...... i think its just getting to see how much his personality changes whenever hes talking with someone he loves cause like. from professional to sappy and flirty in seconds and its just sosssooososos <33333

AND HEADCANONS.... ouh i do have a few!!!!! some taken from other people (coughs @/disconnectedkid coughs (NOT ACTUALLY MENTIONING THEM BECAUSE IM SCARED BUT CREDITS RAAAHH!!!!)) such as him also being trans and without top or bottom surgery!!!!!!! he/him and all that fun stuff. i always lead with those kinds of headcanons cause theyre like. special interest neuron activation ehebdbhs..... outside of that? i love the headcanon of him having glasses even with the phone head. it makes him look SOSOSOSO stupid but in the best way possible trust. hes also a cane/mobility aid user because. his leg<:( ALSO!!!!!! just for my own fun? i see him as being rather good with verbal affection and sorta timid with physical. hes very hesitant to touch (NOT IN A WEIRD WAY.... maybe) but not to talk and thats so <:3

as far as anything else? i think the things i have written about him are. evidence enough. drops my mic and walks off stage...... (THANK YOU FOR ENCOURAGING ME BEING INSANE BIG BRO 🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡)

[sleepdeprivedkai]

day 2 1/15-1/16/25

already missed a day! embarrassing.... ٩(๑ `н´๑)۶ in my defense i wasn't fully sure this would be a daily thing but i'll definitely try my best (●´□`)♡

more pictures were definitely taken this time! while i own a sony camera i drag absolutely everywhere, i'm always running around without time to get any reallyyyy nice pictures. enjoy my colorful bedroom as compensation <:0)

i shouldn't be surprised my free time is slowly dwindling with going back to work and the semester just looming among the horizon. i'm apart of a couple programs considering a very big lack of... money.. and orientation was super fun for what it was worth (even if i forgot to rsvp for a free lunch ヽ( ｀0´)ﾉ)

the word free just immediately makes those neurons light up in my brain. it's so easy to forget the sillier things in life, always enjoy free sticky notes !! and a backpack you won't use !!

lots of good food these past couple of days besides my deserved sandwich i missed out on, i don't know if its the same all across the country but the chinese food in my town is simply the pinnacle of a happy life though that's not to say the classic diet coke and chicken cesar salad don't stand in the same category. at my very grown age i can stand by fellow yerba mate lovers, eighteen years wasted hating on a very good drink (ノдヽ)

the public transit is very reliable here though it's a little spooky in the evening once the majority of college students and workers are already long gone, leaving the plastic seats empty and the dim lighting makes them seem haunted, not as haunted as the three story bank i was working in, all those empty floors leave me so uneasy with the lack of activity at those hours. hopefully ghosts are friendly d(ﾟｰﾟ@)

[brolantra]

The brain is such an interesting organ. Everyone believes and accepts that they have no power to change their brain but I know firsthand that’s not true. I was bipolar for over 20 years and I did everything I could to undo it. I haven’t had a manic depressive episode since march of LAST year. I flow through heavy emotions sure, but I feel them in real time. I don’t have the constant mood swings anymore and I have enough awareness to accept my humanity when I’m experiencing “negative” emotions. I couldn’t have done any of this if I would have allowed myself to believe that was just something I’d have to live with til the day I died. I’m currently doing the same thing for cPTSD. Sometimes it feels like I take 3 steps forward just to get knocked 5 steps back… but I know that’s apart of the process. Because I’ve already experienced that when I was actively healing myself of bipolar 1.

The brain has an elasticity about it. No one has to accept defeat if they don’t want to. Is it hard? 1000%. Healing my brain is the hardest thing I’ve ever attempted to do. But I AM doing it. Doing what I can to mark my neurons for change while I’m awake. And ensuring I get enough sleep so the system updates can do what they need to do while I’m in sleep mode. It sounds complicated. And honestly, it’s truly not an easy thing to do at all. But it is quite simple. If that makes sense.

I always come back to encouraging people to actively learning about the subconscious mind. Because it’s 96% of our brain power and most of our answers reside there. Once you learn about the different parts and how things operate it’s almost like things just start clicking into place. Once the conscious mind becomes aware of the subconscious, everything changes. Once you become aware of your core beliefs that were forged in childhood and have subconsciously been controlling your life, then you actually have the power to change them. Create new core beliefs. Create new neural pathways. Clear up the fog on our lenses of perception. It’s all pretty trippy, but it gives you a sense of empowerment you can’t get from any other endeavor.

I have no control over how other people choose to live their lives. I have no bearing on their decisions or how they choose to see the world around them. But I’m so thankful to have this awareness of myself and others because it frees me from a core belief I once held, that I was responsible for other peoples emotions and their healing. I never was. Id hope that people can look upon my journey and learn, find inspiration from the ways I’ve chosen to change and empower myself. But I know on a fundamental level, I’m only responsible for my own healing and awareness. There is A LOT of freedom in that.

[maifrenthebesto]

The voices told me you're too scared to make your last first move again. I wouldn't take that if that were me dawg. I wouldn't take a lot.

Yeah we're finished here.

Knowing what to say is difficult because you don't always want to say it.

I admittedly had to let a lot out of my system to function.

And let a lot in to help fill the gap left in the absence of what could no longer be seen.

It was through trial and error that we find ourselves able to read and write, to ve able to be moved by that which we choose to listen to, and to live in the light of our own sum. For as long as you're able to afford it, that is.

You don't have to show me to know that you feel anxious at times. That you've been scared before our intersection, and that you will continue to experience anxiety through your life. This is a shared experience, at some point we can all find ourselves stranded.

My aim is to help, not condescend. The intersection of feelings and information is defined through experience, and while I've been able to expand this domain quite far, it is only as stable as the host observer's relationship to the experience. Whenever you like/don't like what you see pertaining me, I get a stimulus, neuron activation. I then respond to it internally or externally regardless of surrounding but not indiscriminate of them, meaning the response type relies more heavily on the stimulus itself rather than the timing and context in which it is received.

This results in instances of me talking to myself abruptly at times, however the information coming out at these times needs little context to be able to be interpreted between select participants. As if the fact I said something at that time cleared a gap in their thoughts either consciously or subconsciously. This last part is of course wishful thinking, as it has seldom been corroborated, however there are remarkable instances I can look at not as proof, but as indication of a phenomenon which urges one to ask questions.

And this whole log is an attempt to answer the questions that come to me.

Any overlap between questions you may have had is purely non-coincidental. But I'm sure there's a fair share of coincidences scattered around the path that has been outlined by the coincidences that happen to be synchronous to the viewer's experience.

You already hold all the reasons not to do anything, it's in fact all I have been hearing recently. All that context you're having to fill people in, it echoes, they laugh, and you march onward still. For that reason alone I sympathize with the nature of your approach, you seek internal growth, but you still know that despite how close to home I hit you in my remarks, that they are not meant to be denied, as embarrassing as it may be, it has let your authentic individuated self shine through that fog that surrounds me, the same fog I assume others are gonna have. They are not to blame for being impervious to it, but it is quite transparent to see the relation links through the nature of the flow of information. And the intentions behind leaving me in the dark become apparent when you look at the players involved.

But I'm not needed for pointing out the things we all know already.

Or am I?

Someone has to remind us of who we are when we lose sight of ourselves.

So yeah I did it and I'll do it again.

Would you?

If you answered anything to anything ever, make sure to let me know about it, I want to hear your voice, so go ahead friend, I'm listening.

:)

Talk as much as you need, I have written as such, so perhaps we'll both get tired around the same time too.

[forkbirtuna]

Hi Tuna!

How are you?

When did you get into hetalia? Has Germany always been your favorite character? What are your favorite ships with him?

I really adore the belarus piece you drew! It's absolutely gorgeous!!-🪽

Hi!!!!! Where I live is currently so hot I'm melting, but I'm doing pretty good, thanks for asking!! :DDD

I got into Hetalia back in late 2019, but I actually have been listening to the character songs since mid 2018! One day a video with all the songs simply popped up on my youtube feed and I thought the voice actors went by country names because it was their stage names (I was like 14 and not very smart so I didn't question it 😭), but it took me seeing a bunch of fanart on pinterest with people commenting "in today's episode of: I didn't know this was hetalia!!" for me to actually look into it and find out it was a whole series 💀

Germany has always been my favorite character, something about him just made my neurons activate back then and now he's a little guy that lives rent free in my mind and simply refuses to leave. To quote my own words:

I am so normal about him (lies) (liar) (I'm lying) (liar liar pants on fire) (showed up to liar town and everyone there wanted an autograph)

I'm a very basic shipper so gerita is my favorite ship with him, but I'm really open to see what other people ship him with, if they make Germany act in the way I see him then yeah sure of course I'll engage no objections about that😋

And I'm really glad you liked my Belarus drawing!! :DD I had so much fun experimenting with brushes on it, I think if one of the best pieces I've ever made ^^

Thank you so much for the ask!!

[weirdmageddon]

five years too late let’s analyze this. the commentary has gotten me back into gravity falls reigniting thoughts and insights i came to years ago

i love everything about this commentary in general it hits the points of humor, genuine analysis of the characters, but most of all im so glad hirsch addressed that the droid not detecting any fear from dipper here doesnt make any scientific sense because that was a massive CinemaSins moment for me

IDK the fact that dipper can fucking stand after an airship crash because theres a bigger threat at hand is literally one of the defining capabilities owed to adrenaline lol...... IM SORRY im a biopsychology student if i dont point that out iwill seethe and die because that was just . its a grudge ive held for a long time about this episode but didnt rant about because it was something so minor and i’m sure nobody would care.

i was 13 when this episode came out and i’m almost 19 now, i had a special interest in biology and i still do but now i’m actually having college classes in biopsychology so i can give my arguments more oomph now. and i have to say, now that i know more about the brain and autonomic nervous system the more this scene bugs me, if that was even possible. and it says a lot of dipper and ford’s relationship.

if dipper clearly wasnt calm before, why would he be now just because he’s put up an outwardly confident facade? before he was in the flight but now hes in the fight. my boy just rode on top of a spaceship by nothing but a magnet gun that could detach at any time if it failed and then the ship crashed, he sustained injuries, is in emotional turmoil because he thinks his uncle is Fucking Dead and the threat of a security droid that detects adrenaline is on his tail and produces a Big Fucking Gun in response to dipper saying “i hAvE a MaGNeT gUn” and hes screaming and has his teeth clenched but sure there’s no adrenaline coursing through his body in that moment i can totally believe that

when dipper asks what happened, ford says “the orb didn’t detect any chemical signs of fear, it assumed the threat was neutralized and self-disassembled” but i don’t think measuring someone’s heartbeat alone is particularly relevant in detecting ... chemical signs of fear?? they dont really tell you this shit but noradrenaline (and maybe adrenaline too if the acetylcholine from sympathetic outflow always activates the adrenal medulla??, theres two pathways) is always active in small quantities to make sure your parasympathetic nervous system doesnt slow your heart to dangerous levels on its own, regardless of your emotions. it’s just a homeostatic mechanism. your sympathetic and parasympathetic nervous systems are CONSTANTLY modulating control of your organs on a see-saw, literally with every breath you take. simply standing upright causes specialized mechanoreceptor neurons in blood vessels to signal your brain to project signals to release catecholamines via the sympathetic nervous system to constrict your blood vessels so that blood is able to reach your brain and not pool in your legs. i have a deficiency in my body’s ability to adapt to this which is why i know so much about it. if i stand up my heart races to compensate. i’m not feeling fear, my body is just adjusting—albeit grossly and incompetently lol.

but what im saying here is that the security system is flawed. it’s a cool idea to have security droids detect fear, but in practice by detecting adrenaline, and not even directly by detecting the molecule itself—it’s done in a roundabout way by reading the heartbeat, could be a recipe for false alarms. like what if someone’s on beta-blockers. that’s not really an adequate way to measure “fear”; there’s so many variables that could interfere with the measurement the farther you abstract from what you’re really trying to detect. and besides, adrenaline is NOT just a sign of fear, it’s just for preparing the body for action. i know the sympathetic nervous system and adrenaline is constantly linked with the “fight-or-flight” reaponse to a stressor, but 99.9% of the time the sympathetic nervous system is used in your life is to balance out your parasympathetic nervous system to maintain homeostatic equilibrium for mundane things.

i think detecting amygdalar activation would be more efficient in detecting fear. the amygdala sends projections to the hypothalamus which then in turn modulates the autonomic nervous systems. but the amygdala is intensely activated specifically in response to a fear-inducing stimulus (it does activate in response to other emotions but they’re mostly negative and is most activated by startle and fear), and wouldnt be highly activated by many other confounding variables like measurement of the heartbeat could be. the amygala is one of the first stops directly from external stimuli.

to show you how integrated the amygdala is as the first step in registering fear after receiving input from sensory stimuli let’s look at the auditory-amygdala connection for example

see how the auditory thalamus projects to the primary auditory cortex and auditory association cortex? the cortex is where conscious awareness of what the stimuli is comes from. this is the “high road”. it goes sensing -> perception -> emotional response. but sometimes you can be startled without even processing what it is you’re sensing, like the startle response of an alarm or a phone ringing in a quiet house before you even register what it is. this goes sensing -> emotional response, without perception happening until after you’ve already felt the startle. that’s when it takes the “low road”. here’s a simplified version:

even if that were the case with these droids though it’s obvious dipper is still fearful on some level here. his body language, voice, expressions all give it away. for the amygdala, aggression isnt too off from fear so it would be detected equally.

the reason this is so important is because ford uses this as evidence for why dipper is special, “i did it?” “you did it. this is what i was talking about, how many 12 year olds do you think are capable of doing what you’ve just done?”

but like....did he really? i’m not saying this to shoot dipper down or make him out to be more of a wuss, he was incredibly strong-willed here and i dont want to take that away from him because it WAS growth on his part. but the underlying psychophysiological reactions of aggression and fear shouldn’t be that different and this was a total asspull. maybe the droid was so old that it fucked up. maybe dipper being covered in grime and dirt made it harder for the droid to measure the correct heart rate through photoplethysmography (im assuming since they use a camera and are non-contact).

and in all honesty everything i just said brings into question the interpersonal healthiness of ford’s judgements, what he thinks, his expectations, and how he communicates that. in this video alex already talks about how ford is projecting onto dipper. and i think ford may be projecting his expectations for himself onto people who are not him, and the fact that it’s on dipper here makes it far more unfortunate. you realize how much this boy idolizes ford, right? how much impressions matter? dipper even tells himself before he leaves in this same episode, “all right dipper, this is your first big mission with great uncle ford. don’t mess this up.”

even though it’s unstated, the implicit message dipper is perceiving from ford based on their dynamic is: “do you have what it takes for me to be proud of you?” and to accomplish this he must be like ford, even though he’s clearly not and he knows this. he says “i don’t think have what it takes. i was tricked by bill, i was wrong about stan’s portal, heck, i can’t even operate this magnet gun right.” then, by simple chance without even knowing what he did, he activates the magnet gun and pulls out the adhesive, which immediately takes the focus away from what dipper was telling ford about his feelings of inadequacy to ford saying, “yes! dipper, you found the adhesive!”

these thoughts of dipper’s hang in the air without resolve or comment from ford. we don’t know what ford would have said. but it then becomes painfully self-evident in the scene immediately after when the droids emerge and ford tells dipper, “they’re security droids and they detect adrenaline. you simply have to not feel any fear and they won’t see you”, to which dipper replies with an exasperated (and rightful) “WHAT?”

dipper goes in a panic trying to indirectly tell his uncle that this isn’t something he can do. and he is completely right and valid to be freaked out by that full stop. that IS crazy. you can’t control your fear. you can control how you interpret that fear in your higher brain regions but the physiological changes will stick around for longer than it takes to cognitively calm down. it’s easy for me to detach from my emotions to analyze them, but being able to do this does not come naturally for everyone. even i have an irrational fear of wasps and i can’t control it by detaching myself, my body is just automatically primed to get the fuck out of there. i know it’s stupid and i know it’s irrational and isn’t helpful to get myself worked up but i literally can’t stop how my body reacts no matter how i cognitively think about it. expecting composure from dipper in a situation like this when he’s being made to consciously be aware of his anxiety is absolutely fucking insane. look what you did, placing these cruel expectations on him, now he’s afraid of being afraid! this isn’t a case where two wrongs cancel out, they just stack on top of each other.

there’s a good reason these scenes were put side by side but it seems up until now it had remained unanalyzed.

what dipper fears from ford is disappointment. not living up to his uncle’s (quite frankly badly placed) expectations for a twelve year old with anxiety. not once did ford say or subliminally communicate “i don’t expect you to be able to do what i can since you are not as experienced as i am and that’s perfectly okay, no judgements”. you don’t put a child on bike before training wheels. you don’t throw a kid into a swimming pool without giving them swimming lessons. the way ford is doing it, there’s no room for trial and error or mistakes that are an opportunity to grow and learn; instead, it’s life or death. he only seems to pride dipper on what he can do while ignoring the underlying struggles that plague him and never making it known it’s okay for dipper to fail in front of his hero and that he won’t think anything less of him for it.

and that’s why i found the ending scene for dipper and ford’s adventure in this episode to feel so.. wrong. on a scientific and social level. because by the sound of it ford focused more on what dipper had done to dismantle the droid (the droid not detecting any fear) instead of how dipper displayed love and protection for him even if he was truly afraid. what if the science was accurate and the droid detected adrenaline while dipper was confidently standing up for his uncle. would ford still be proud of him regardless?

[sarcastically-defensive17]

Hello lovelyyy! Could i request a Billy imagine? He makes fun of the reader after hooking up with her at a party and she just playa along for the sake of his reputation but it hurts her a lot. He finds her and apologizes and its all really angsty with a happy ending??✨

Facades - B. Hargrove

I love this req so so so so so so much and I am so sorry I took so long to complete it! If you hate it then I am so so sorry and I hope you let me know so i can send you pictures of baby otters to apologise!

I really hope you like it!!

TW: THIS STORY CONTAINS MENTIONS OF BULLYING, SEXUAL REFERENCES, SWEARING, BRIEF ALLUSIONS TO DOMESTIC VIOLENCE / PARENTAL ABUSE, BILLY BEING A BIT OF A MYSOGINISTIC PRAT, Y/N STANDING UP FOR THE LITTLE PEEPS AND BEING A QUEEN AND MENTIONS OF NON-CONSENSUAL STARING AT INTIMATE BODY PARTS.

IF THIS CONTENT CAN POTENTIALLY TRIGGER YOU, PLEASE DO NOT READ. YOUR OWN MENBTAL AND PHSYICAL HEALTH IS IMPORTANT, SO PLEASE TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF. MY INBOX IS ALWAYS OPEN.

Original Story by defensive_sarcasm17.

Please do not copy, reproduce or repost without credit or in a manner that removes my username, and/or ownership from the work. Stealing is not cool, my loves.

Billy Hargrove was an asshole.

Not just your regular asshole, but the kind that knew he was an asshole and allowed his severe longing for attention to control his every action. Whether positive or negative attention, he craved it; he reveled in it.

He knew it was wrong, but simply knowing he was on somebody’s mind in any way filled him with a sense of pride. It disgusted him but the thrill was far too addictive.

And there was sweet Y/N. Anybody could tell that she didn’t fit in. She walked - no, she strut - to the beat of her own drum. The minute he arrived she caught his attention. He had never before witnessed how somebody could be so unique and beautiful, yet remain on the outside. She was a fascinating creature and he hadn’t before felt such an intense desire to get to know somebody.

She was so different to so many people, both in personality and appearance, yet she took care to avoid bringing others down. Her first interaction with him was her reprimanding him for speaking ill of another girl in their grade with his friends. She had overheard the conversation that occurred near to her locker and made sure to discuss it with him away from his friends.

The last thing she wanted to do was embarrass him and herself, but she also needed to tell him that his behaviour was unacceptable. He made more of an effort to watch his tongue after that, but old habits die hard and he quickly resorted back to being an ill-mannered asshole.

Just... never to her.

Nevertheless, he was still drawn to her. Their relationship evolved, a few sneaky kisses, hanging out outside of the arcade, or the cinema, or even the one time that Billy was eating at the diner and Y/N took a seat across from him just to babble about some new thing she was doing. If she was anybody else, Billy would have told her to take a hike, but instead, he clung to every word she told.

What Y/N didn’t know, though, was that she had become a butt of some jokes amongst Billy’s friends. Her kind, bubbly personality, her eyes that were often wide in energetic glee, the way she held a cheesy smile on her lips whenever she passed Billy in the hall.

To her it was normal. Never in her the lengths of her imagination would she conclude that the way she behaved would spur other people - people that she has grown alongside - to ridicule and tease her behind her back.

So she continued on in blissful nativity, even going as far as spending a night with the brutish boy - cuddled together, fumbling blindly amongst the rumpled sheets of her double bed. What started as a meaningless conversation at one of the many parties ended in one of the best nights that either had experienced.

She was entirely enamored by him, forming an intense and strong connection with the way he would present himself to her. She quite enjoyed the Jekyll within him.

The euphoria that he felt in her presence wouldn’t fade away like it normally did, even as he took his leave from her.

But when Billy was seen by Y/N’s neighbour, Angela, leaving her house early in the morn, the news circulated with the intensity of a swarm of angry locusts amongst the school.

And when Billy turned up to school late the next day, after a long and enjoyable farewell with Y/N and a quick stop at his own abode to change and freshen up, he was hounded the minute he approached his friends in the cafeteria.

“Please for the love of all that is cool in this world, tell me you didn’t hook up with freaky Y/N,” Tommy blurted in front of almost the entire cafeteria. The frown on Billy’s face did nothing to deter the boy, and from the corner of his eye he could see Y/N still as a statue as she felt most eyes turn towards her. Her tray was clasped between her fingers and she struggled to shift her features away from shock. “I mean, look at her,” he raised a hand as if he intended to whisper, yet the silence of the room ensured everybody heard, “You’d get more satisfaction out of a bean bag chair. She’s a dork.”

In that moment, he had two options: stick up for Y/N and confess to the growing admiration he harbored for her in front of everybody, and remove the cloud of admiration he received from many women and men alike; or do what billy does best-

“Please, I won’t put my dick just anywhere, willingly,” he scoffed, avoiding the burning gaze from the girl. His stormy blue eyes hid the flurry of his neurons, all of them working overtime to one up with an excuse, an answer, anything to avoid judgement from his peers. “She ended up with my jacket at the end of the night and there was no way I was letting her keep it.”

Tommy had an evil smirk on his face, turning his gaze towards Y/N and eyeing her in a grotesque way. His eyes linger on her chest for longer than she deemed comfortable before he snapped back to Billy. “Figured as much, but, we’ve all seen the way the freak looks at you. Even now, she can’t keep her eyes off of you.”

More sniggers erupted throughout the room. Y/N placed her tray down carefully, planning to leave the room as fast as she could, but she stopped when she saw Tommy crook a finger at her. He beckoned her closer, and she wanted nothing more than to shrink down to the size of a mouse.

“Is she dumb?” Tommy grunted as he nudged Billy’s shoulder with his own. “Come here, freaky!” Some chatter resumed in the room, but all eyes were still on her. She slowly stepped towards their table, crossing the few meters difference as slow as she could.

A chuckle left Billy, but he had forced it from his chest. His mind was going through many scenarios in which he could hurt Tommy, his favourite settling on stabbing him in the hand with one of the cafeteria forks followed by a severe pummeling to the face, but the eyes on him sent his adrenaline spiking. He felt horrible about speaking so badly of Y/N, but everybody had their attention focused on him. He was making people laugh, gasp, grumble even. He saw the girls at the table next to them get closer, winking at him and whispering along themselves about Y/N.

It was intoxicating.

“Tell us, freaky,” Tommy drawled, a sinister smirk forming in his thin and cracked lips. “You’re just obsessed with my man, Billy, here. Aren’t you?” Billy didn’t meet her eyes, and she knew - she just knew - that he didn’t enjoy what was happening, but she figured he would have the decency to stop it from continuing.

She had seen many sides of Billy, including the menacing, careless, boarding-on-sociopathic side, but she had managed to convince herself that she was immune to the abuse that tumbled from his lips. Y/N was already scolding herself inside her mind for thinking such discrepancies.

“Look at her, Billy. She can’t even speak!” Billy felt Tommy shove his shoulder with the palm of his hand, dropping the appendage quickly when he noticed the glare Billy shot him. His face paled slightly before the arrogance returned and the smirk resurfaced when his gaze shifted back to Y/N.

She hadn’t moved, her eyes locked on Billy. In those situations, Y/N knew her tear ducts were far to close to her eyelids, often spilling over at the any confrontation. She shied away from it, knowing that it often resulted in heartache and misfortune - but this time she felt anger. She just wasn’t quite sure if the anger was directed at herself or Billy.

Maybe both.

To add fuel to the flame, Billy turned his steely cerulean eyes towards her, raking them along the length of her body before he decided to open his mouth once again.

“Do i make you speechless?” his voice was sultry, warm, juxtaposing with the chill that ran down her spine at the audition.

It took her back to the previous night when he whispered sweet nothings against her skin. But she knew this was not the same Billy. This was the Billy that he would show to everyone. Everyone but her.

This was his Hyde, and she despised it. This was far from her Billy, but she knew how much his reputation meant to him.

He held her gaze strongly, but she could see something else in his expression. He was hoping that she would stay quiet, retreat from any chance of spilling his secret to the entire cafeteria, but part of his mind was telling him that he deserved her to speak the truth.

“I can’t help it, Billy,” she mumbled, hoping that a confession would make everything end. Her face was stoic, jaw set in a tight clench, only relenting to let the words slip out. To the rest of the cafeteria, it would portray as nerves and embarrassment, but to Billy - he knew that something had definitely changed in the usual mild-mannered, kind-hearted woman. Shame was running through her head at an alarming rate, mixed with embarrassment and cut with a growing anger. “I’ve had a crush on you for so long. It’s hard to deny how i feel about you.”

The words hit him like a speeding truck. Despite their activities, she had never once given him an indication for the depth of her feelings, nor had he for her. He had came to the conclusion that she simply knew of his emotions without the audition of them - he treated her so differently, he thought.

Nevertheless, he wanted to believe that her words were the truth, but the fire blazing in her beautiful eyes set his skin alight and had his heart pounding against his ribcage with guilt. She was Y/N. She was kind, she knew him. She knew how much he craved the satisfaction of being on somebody’s mind as if he could sense that he held somebody’s attention.

He knew she did it to help him, and he was somewhat grateful underneath the growing guilt.

“Wow,” Tommy breathed. His face held a look of astonishment, but once again he returned to his stock standard expression. “What an absolute spaz!”

Billy found himself nodding along to avoid the heat-filled stare, swallowing the lump of bile rising in his throat, “Why is it that all the dorks think they have a chance with me? I must have a wannabe-magnet that makes them all hot for me,” his cackle was filled with faux-malice, but the students were none the wiser. His thoughts were roaming around his head, moving faster than he was sure his brainwaves could manage.

He barely noticed when a feminine voice hit his ears and said something about Y/N needing to cool off before pouring a drink over her head. The red liquid was already beginning to stain her shirt and her hair was pushed to the front of her face.

“There you go,” Carol - the girl that had Tommy wrapped so tightly around her little finger that she has a circulation issue - had been the one to spill the liquid over her head. The smile on Carol’s face was dripping with sugar, but Billy knew that it was actually salt.“The red makes you look less like an ugly cow.”

A gasp left her lips, her eyes closing quickly. Y/N knew that the tip of the iceberg was approaching. Everybody has the point in their anger when they hit a point of hypersensitivity. Their body struggling to find a way to release the pent up friction in anyway, and it chooses to take the route of tears.

When she opened her eyes they had already began to blur with tears, yet she could still make out Billy’s figure, but she didn’t stay long enough to hear their taunts any longer. Her feet carried her to her car at a steady pace, where she finally allowed the emotion to escape in any way it pleased.

<><><><><>

He had expected to see her in their next class. Her presence was the only think that kept him from flipping out during their history class. Mr Daniels, the balding, narcissistic, middle-aged douche bag, had it out for him. Billy had often joked that it was because of the hair - pure jealousy, he said. The mere sight of Y/N’s profile managed to keep him occupied, his mind running wild with thoughts of the woman.

But when he had noticed she wasn’t there, all resolve had fled his body as his body fled the school. He had been trying to reach her since he had left, the pay phone on the corner of the block had his attention for nearly an hour, all of his change spent dialing her number over and over again with the same result.

The guilt was eating away at him, shame creeping up his spine.

He was an asshole. Plain and simple.

He had spent nearly his entire wallet on the pay phone, growing more frustrated by the minute. If she were home, she would answer. She always did. She was too kind to ignore a call. Hell, she even stayed on the line with telemarketers until they stopped talking for long enough for her to apologise and bid them goodbye.

The mere thought had him slumping his forehead against the receiver of the phone. His patience had worn thin and he cursed under his breath as he reefed his keys from his pocket and set off towards his blue camaro.

He needed to see her. The image of tears running down her cheek was burned into his mind, occupying all of his thoughts as his subconscious mapped out the route to her house. He had only been there once, maybe twice after dropping her home one afternoon, but he had the way etched into his hippocampus alongside many things about Y/N.

He had barely pulled in to the curb before he shut down the engine and stomped to her door.

His knuckles were rapping on the door before he knew it.

He knocked again, and once more. But no answer. Her car was parked in the drive way, he knew she was home. He picked up on the faint sound of music playing, some indie band that she was fond of. Not Billy’s taste.

“Y/N?” He called, fighting the lump that had swollen in his throat. “Y/N, please, I need to talk to you!”

The door opened slightly, just enough for Y/N to stare at him with innocent eyes full of shame before the chain stopped it from advancing further.

“I think you’ve said enough, Billy,” her voice sounded broken. Shattered even.

Her hair was still saturated, the T-Shirt she wore was stained, and he faintly recognized it as one of her favourite articles. A from was deeply carved into her features and he had to restrain his mind from thinking about how she adorable she looks with a crease between her brows and a dimple forming on her chin with growing anger.

“Darling, please let me in. I need to talk to you about something,” he flashed a charming smile. His pink lips contrasted perfectly against his sun-kissed skin. He was a delectable sight and he knew so; he made sure to dress to impress on the daily. He craved the looks of lust and jealousy. Like neon straight into his awaiting veins, it was his drug. Even the way Y/N glared up at him made his ego hum, but his heart ached with the disappointment she showed. “What happened in the cafeteria... it’ll never happen again. I just, I couldn’t-“

The door abruptly slammed in his face silencing his words in an instant. He froze, the sound shaking his spine and clearing his train of thought, only for the sound of a chain clicking and the door reopening capture his attention back.

There she stood. Hair drenched beyond all hope, clothes stained a bright red, throwing off the aesthetic of her outfit for the day. Her makeup was smudged more than he originally thought, as if she had been furiously scrubbing at her eyes with her hands. His heart ached, but he couldn’t deny the excitement in his nerves when she gave him her full attention.

Her hand reached out to grab his shirt, pulling him inside faster than he thought possible.

“Couldn’t what?” She snapped at him, venom coating her words in a way that made him recoil. “Couldn’t resist making fun of me? Couldn’t resist having every single pair of eyes on you? Couldn’t resist taking the piss out of me, just like you have done for months?”

She wasn’t meant to know about that, he thought. She was meant to be none the wiser. His face paled, eliciting a dry laugh from her chest. She felt the pressure of the forced omission in her stomach, the muscles aching from the furious sobs that racked her frame moments before.

“All of this time, I was trying to be your friend, Billy! And you!” She waved her hand at him, pointing at him in a manner dripping with unbridled anger. “You were playing me for the fool! I’ve been the butt of all jokes between you and your asshole friends since the minute I opened my big mouth to talk to you, haven’t I?”

He knew he was in the wrong. He knew that he should have punched Tommy in the face for even bringing anything up in front of her. His friend had noticed that he had abruptly halted the jokes surrounding the girl in question, but he couldn’t bring himself to admit the real reason why. He was falling head over heels, but he just didn’t know it yet.

Now he felt like his heart was ripping in two at the sight of her blotchy cheeks and red rimmed eyes, and he was the reason.

“It started as a joke, Y/N. I never meant to hurt you,” His voice was full of pain. Self-loathing. “Yeah, Tommy and I used to make fun of you for a while, but...” his words faded away.

The chuckle that left her lips this time was a hearty one, more like she was laughing at an actual joke than their humourless situation.

He didn’t realise how intently he was staring at her sock covered feet until he brought his eyes up to her face. She was genuinely laughing, but the tears that he didn’t realise were falling down her cheeks made his arms twitch from the need to hug her.

“My god,” she huffed, bringing her palms to her eyes and pressing hard, almost as if trying to hold her tears back. Her voice deceived her, and she sobbed for - what felt like - the millionth time that day. “I’m such an idiot.”

His hands connected with her shoulders and he brought her in against his chest. The hug was all he could do to comfort her, for he knew so little about his own emotions to even begin to understand another’s pain.

“Every time we spoke, every time we hung out together...” she pulled herself back from his chest. She couldn’t stand the contact that she craved so much, for she knew that it was unrequited. “Every time I kissed you.. last night. It was all bullshit!”

“Princess,” his own voice began to shake, feeling overwhelmed and anxious, “Every moment I have ever spent with you has been because I want to.”

She worked her hands into her now half-damp hair, pulling it back from her face in a tight grip, “Why? You and your friends needed some new material?” She released a heavy breath, her lips trembling. “Nancy told me about all of the jokes last week, yet I still went home with you last night. I still played along while the entire cafeteria stared me down because I know how much your reputation means to you. I know that I am at the very bottom of your priority list, Billy. Everything you do is for a purpose, and your purpose with me was just to make me feel worse than literally everybody in that school already does.”

He reached for her hand slowly, as if he were afraid she would pull away from him forever. He was never sure of his emotions, but this time, he knew that he would watch the world burn just to make her happy. He hated himself. He hated Tommy, and the girls that embarrassed her further. He hated Neil, and he hated his own narcissism. He hated the world for making such a beautiful soul so miserable, but he especially hated how he knew right from wrong and still chose the latter.

His fingers laced with hers, but her hand remained slack in his grip. It was better than nothing, he thought.

He cleared his throat, the organ feeling as stiff as a piece of cardboard, his mouth dry. The next words would be difficult, but they were honest. She deserved honesty.

“When I first met you, I didn’t know who you were, and I didn’t really want to. You were kind and thoughtful and you pulled me aside to chew me out for talking shit about some girl, but you did it where you knew my friends wouldn’t hear, just so you could spare my reputation. For the first little while, yeah, we made jokes. I made fun of the weird way you dress and the horrible music you listen to, and how you are the nicest person I have ever met, but the it stopped. The things you did stopped being funny to me, and the way I felt when I was around you changed completely.”

“Billy, what are you talking about?” Her tear-filled eyes wrinkles, her brows furrowing deeply.

“Tommy and the rest of the assholes, they noticed that I didn’t want to talk shit about you, or that I didn’t like when they would talk about you in the way - in the way we talk about other girls. Its hypocritical, but they dropped it. Until today. All because Angela couldn’t keep her big mouth shut.” He caught the look that she sent him, frowning slightly. “Sorry. Because Angela told them that I left here this morning, and they wouldn’t shut their stupid mouths the minute they saw me. I told them that I had nothing to say about you, but they wanted answers and I said shit that I never wanted to say.”

She watched him intently. Tommy had made a lot of comments about her over the years she had known him. The other guys had too, but she did notice that they started backing off lately. She hadn’t paid much attention to the fact, secretly hoping that they had begun to mature, but to think that Billy made them stop - well she didn’t know what to think.

“Why did you make them stop?” her mind was running faster than her mouth, but she still couldn’t put it together. If Billy was anybody else, she would maybe think that he reciprocated the feelings she expressed for him in the cafeteria but he isn’t - he is Billy Hargrove, and he doesn’t have feelings for anybody.

He laughed for a second. A soft, disbelief fueled cough. His eyes seemed to shine bright in the dull lighting of her house. Neither of them had realised the time that has passed, it was now nearing the afternoon. He looked down at her, his stomach full to the brim with an odd sensation.

“You really don’t know?” he seemed to have stepped closer to her, only slightly. His shoulders were slightly shrunken in. She shook her head softly, the crease returning to between her eyebrows as she thought. “I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

Never in his teenage life, had Billy feared rejection from a woman. His mother had given him all of the rejection he needed for a lifetime, but now, as he stared into Y/N’s eyes, his lungs seemed to constrict.

It was as if her world froze for a moment. Not only did Billy Hargrove, possibly her best and only friend, confess that he has feelings for her, but he said that he loved her. To say she was at a loss for words would be an understatement, but she stood in front of him gaping like a fish, mouth opening and closing every time she wanted to say something.

“I don’t mind if you don’t feel the same,” He spoke, slightly lower than when he confessed to her. He turned away from her slightly, releasing her hand and using it to rub the back of his neck. His skin felt like it was aflame and he started to sweat. “I just wanted to let you know, especially after what happened today. I-I’m sorry for the shit I said, and I am gonna kick Tommy’s ass for this. And I’m sorry that you had to say that stuff today. I know that you just said it to help me, and I appreciate it but you didn’t have to -”

His words fell short when he felt arms wrap around his waist. It was a soft, slow gesture, new, but not entirely uncomfortable. If he had to put money on it, he would say that she could feel exactly how fast his heart is beating.

“Those things I said today, about my feelings for you...” she began, head pressed against his chest.

“Yeah, princess?”

“They were all true.” He pulled her back slightly to look at her. It was his turn to look confused. “Last night was one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time, Billy. Being around you just makes my heart swell and everything better.”

His heart started to beat impossibly faster, but there was still hesitance in her voice. “I feel like there is a ‘but’ coming.”

“But I can’t deal with this split-personality bullshit, Billy.” He had never heard her curse before. It was music to his ears, exciting, entrancing, but he also knew that she meant business. She was incredibly serious. “The person you are when you are around me, that is the guy I am obsessed with. Who you are when everybody else is around... I know how it feels to be on the receiving end of that now, and I hated it.”

“I know, darling. I’m so sorry for that, I promise, I will be better. Even if you won’t have me, I will be better. For you.” His eyes held an honest strength. It was as if he were selling his soul to her, right there in her entry way, where they had stood since she wrenched the door open in a fury. “But, if you will have me, how about I take you out tomorrow night? If you don’t want to, then I understand.”

“I would love that,” she smiled up at him, the expression growing wider as a matching one took over his face.

He couldn’t help but lean forward slowly, giving her an opportunity to pull away. When their lips connected, he melted into the touch, moving with such intensity it was as if he were repeating his apology and his promise into the kiss.

She had never felt more wanted before, and he had never felt more safe.

When their lips parted she rested her forehead on his for a moment, basking in the silence and the ambiance that surrounded them.

But of course, Billy had to ruin it.

“So, you are obsessed with me, huh?” She could feel the smirk against her cheek as he nuzzled his nose into her temple.

She turned away from him so fast that the wet ends of her hair slapped his face.

“Where are you going, princess?” He followed after her, long strides catching up with her faster than she wanted.

“I’m going to have a shower. If you want to join me, you can leave that bad attitude at the door along with your shoes,” She sent him a sly wink, a smirk on the lips that Billy wanted to taste once again.

“Yes ma’am,” he said, and his shoes went flying into the hallway.

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[sparxwrites]

@manoessay​ replied to your post:

This post activated my brain harder than most so even though you arent gonna make a fanfic i will add, Dream testing how many times you can bring a person back on quackity once he gets out.

(i absolutely fully got possessed by this idea, and then wrote this self-indulgent and weirdly experimental fic feverishly at like 1am last night. this is... probably not what you were imagining, but it’s what fell out of my brain, so! enjoy? written to “innocence” by madeon.)

cw moderately graphic torture / gore, mental breakdown, mind games, temporary character death

[ao3]

-

“How many times have you died now, Quackity?”

The words flash hot through his skull, but don’t translate into meaning. Don’t translate into anything other than noise. The floor is cold beneath his palms. Russet-brown flakes up beneath his nails when he claws at it, chest heaving, lungs trying to remember how breathing works.

His first inhale gurgles, wetly, makes him jerk on his belly like a worm on a hook. His throat is raw from disuse, from screaming, from the sword that had sliced through his trachea like a knife through so much butter. When he tries to speak, the only thing that comes out is blood.

It goes like this, every time Dream drags him back from Limbo: his ears full of a high ringing, his lungs not working, his body numb. The link between flesh and brain is faulty, sparking wrong – like the battered neurons take a few precious minutes of life to rewire back together fully. It fixes itself a little less each time, the link; he’s permanently numb down most of his left side, now. The fingers on his right hand are going insensate in terrifying inches.

“How many times?”

Crooked mask, ragged voice, cracked porcelain smile. Dream looks better than Quackity feels, but not much – crouched low on a stone floor that’s caked in layer after layer of old blood, watching Quackity like a bug under a magnifying glass. His hair’s a greasy mess, his mask dirty-white and chipped, his clothes spattered with weeks of gore. With Quackity’s gore.

There’s blood dripping out from beneath the mask, though, fresh and hot. His hands shake. The knuckles clenched around the hilt of his sword are white, the skin beneath his fingernails faintly purple-blue.

The eyes behind the mask are just a little too green.

“Can you even hear me?” There’s a giddy slur to the edge of Dream’s words, the manic lilt of a man high off the same shit that’s melting his brain out through his nose. That feeling was familiar to Quackity, in another life. “Quackity. Hey, Quackity. Anyone in there?” He laughs, short and cruel and batshit crazy. His eyes are the colour of battery acid. “Have I finally broken you?”

There’s no response – because Quackity’s still trying to remember how his lungs work, remember what ribs are, remember how to do things that aren’t screaming and curling in on himself and rocking – and the amusement in his voice turns angry, sour. “I said tell me how many times, Quackity.”

Dream stands, unsteady, swaying as he does and leaning heavily on the sword for balance. His hands are still shaking. The blood’s stopped dripping, but there’s a sickly tinge to it, and when he wipes at his chin with the back of one hand it leaves a smear that’s more brown than red.

There’s a flicker of something, as his knuckles touch the half-inch of exposed face – dirty white light, bridging the gap between skin in a static-shock flash. There and then gone, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it.

The eyes behind the mask glow a little brighter. A little greener. A little less human.

The point of Dream’s sword sinks into Quackity’s shoulder, splits open an old scar. Quackity’s covered in them, now, more scar than skin. More ruined than not. He spasms, chokes, bleeds wet and red and fresh over the dried blood that carpets the floor. The noise he makes is animal, leg-in-a-bear-trap high and thin and dying. Barely alive five minutes, and he’s bleeding out again already. It’s almost funny.

Dream laughs, and leans on the pommel of the sword. It pushes in another inch.

“Month!” manages Quackity, forcing the word out through the wetness in his lungs, through the broken-bone grind of his throat. If he weren’t so many shattered parts, pasted back together by unholy power and Dream’s capricious whims, it might have been a howl. As it is, he barely has the energy to sob, the words raw and hoarse and threadbare. “A month, a month– thirty– haha, thirty-six days in, in, in Limbo, fuck, please, please–”

There’s wet on his cheeks. Tears? Blood? Worse? He can’t tell any more. He can’t even feel the left side of his face.

He grabs for Dream’s boots, presses his forehead against them, gasps for air that doesn’t seem to bring any relief from the cold ache in his lungs. One of his hands finds an ankle, a strip of bare skin between shoe and pant leg. Dream’s skin is fever-hot, sickly, bottled lightning gone past its sell-by date.

The shock of the contact knocks him silent for a second, though. They won’t touch him, in Limbo, the ghosts – or can’t, or both, can’t and won’t. Because they’re bastards, because they hate him, because he isn’t one of them. They can’t-won’t touch him, can’t see him, won’t see him, won’t speak to him– and he’s left, alone, in a room full of the faded impressions of people he once knew, once loved, once was loved by. A room full of people who do not see him, and do not touch him, and do not hear him when he talks.

(When he screams, when he swears at them, when he tries to claw their eyes out with unsteady hands that don’t make contact– when he begs, when he pleads, when he wheedles and bribes and bargains to deaf ears– when he wraps arms around himself, when he rocks himself back and forth until the blood rushes in his ears, when he whispers to himself until his voice fades to nothing, and tries to pretend it is the same thing as being loved and held and comforted–)

“Please, don’t– hahah, don’t kill me, fuck– please, look, look, hurt me, please, hurt me– anything, anything, I don’t–” He doesn’t have the breath for this. Doesn’t have the energy. Doesn’t even really have the words any more, after screaming for thirty-six fucking days straight, after talking to himself for so long his vocal cords wore out and left him mouthing silence in a desperate attempt to keep himself company. “Don’t, don’t send me– not, don’t send me back, please, fuck, anything, ha, haha, don’t, don’t–”

“I said I’d make you beg for death,” says Dream, amused, bored, manic. “Not torture. Not that I’m complaining. It’s just kind of funny. Don’t you think? I think it’s funny.”

He pushes the sword in, another inch. Quackity sobs, desperate and pathetic, and feels no shame for it. Presses his face to Dream’s boot, clings to his ankle like a lifeline, and feels no shame for it. Shame was beaten out of him, bled out of him, several lifetimes ago. “But that’s not what I asked, though. How many times have you died now, Quackity?”

The sword in his shoulder twists, and Quackity screams. Something severs with a pop, and then another, and then another, until the joint is little more than a hot ball of pain and wet meat, grated bone. Until he can no longer scream, gasping desperately through the pain, weeping like a child. Another twist, and something else severs, something vital, a second’s resistance before a give and a spray of warm blood.

He bleeds out between one sob and the next, tumbling into darkness, the golden net of the respawn reaching up to catch him as he falls.

He wakes up three feet away, sprawled out on the filthy bed that occupies one corner of his cell, still sobbing. The respawn clings to him like a second skin, like weights around his ankles, frightening and familiar all at once. It fades slowly, reluctantly; slower each time he dies, he thinks. Like it’s getting used to holding him. Like it doesn’t want to let him go.

It’s only barely gone by the time Dream crosses the space between them, two short steps, no time for him to flinch, no time for him to hide–

Dream grabs him by the wrist, wrenches his body up from the bed, and slots the sword neatly through the front of his throat. The broad, well-used scar carved across it parts for the blade like an old friend, swallows it whole – and Quackity dies for the second time in as many minutes, choking on his own blood.

The respawn catches him. Drags him down into darkness. Drags him back up to the surface of reality, deposits him back onto a bed now sodden with crimson. He’s shaking. He should be used to it, but he’s shaking so hard his teeth clack together, so hard he’s not sure it will ever stop.

Dream drags him off the bed, back onto the floor. Back onto the filth, the layers and layers of dried gore, a carpet constructed from every time he’s been slaughtered like an animal in this tiny, lightless cell.

“Dream,” he begs, quietly. “Dream, Dream–”

Even to his ears, it sounds more like a prayer than a plea.

“It’s a simple question, Quackity. How many times have you died now? Properly died. How many times have I brought you back? I just want a number. Just a number.” The mask obscures Dream’s mouth, but his grin is audible. His eyes are so bright, they hurt to look at. “How many times have I proven to you that I’m a god?”

Quackity tries to curl in on himself, but Dream is in the way, one boot by his shoulder and the other pinning his wrist to the floor beneath its toe. He’s not surprised. Dream is everywhere, always, omnipresent. His free hand seeks out Dream’s ankle onces more, curls around that curdled-lightning skin, desperate and needy. It grounds him, touching the only real person in his whole entire world, and he hates himself for it.

“…T- ten?” he tries, and knows as he says it that it’s wrong. The panic rises like the respawn, choking him. He can’t breathe. “Ten, ten times– maybe eleven– fuck, fuck, Dream, please–”

The sword-tip finds his back, finds the space between his fourth and fifth rib. Finds the ropy scar there, beneath the rags, soft from re-use – like a zipper, easy to pry open right down to his weak, wet heart.

“Good guess,” says Dream, quietly. “Closer than before. But still not right. You need a little longer to think about it, I guess. But– hey, you know what? I’ll be nice, and give you a hint.” He pauses, and Quackity’s world stands still. “You’re guessing too low.”

He pushes the sword down. It slips between Quackity’s ribs like an old lover, lodges in the crusted filth and stone below, pins him still against the floor. His heart beats once, twice, a butterfly-flutter around the diamond skewered through it. His body convulses. He falls still.

The blood from his mouth dyes the toes of Dream’s boots crimson, as the light leaves his eyes.

He wakes in Limbo, on his knees, in a room full of people – full of impressions of people, like the ghosts of a faded photograph. He sees them all there, their backs to him, as they move amongst one another, as they talk amongst one another. Tubbo, and Schlatt, and Fundy, and Wilbur, and–

Sapnap, who looks right through him. Karl, whose eyes skate over him. They hold each other’s hands. The rings on their fourth fingers gleam weakly in the strange, nebulous light of the afterlife. They do not hear him when he says their names, ragged and desperate, like a plea. Like a prayer.

And then they, too, turn their back on him. And Quackity – still raw, still bloody, still skewered open right through his butterfly heart – screams and screams and screams.

[phantaloon-books]

(some) Riordanverse characters (bc I never read TKC) and which Hogwarts House I think they would be in

Warning: this is a long one

Nico: the dude is definitely Gryffindor without a doubt. Like Sorting isn't about some traits and some characteristics, it's about core personality. He may have gone through some of the roughest stuff when he was 10-12, and he was resentful and bitter, but he was brave and bold af throughout everything he did. From learning about his powers, to using them relentlessly despite knowing how exhausted he is afterwards, to his willingness to do whatever is necessary to do what has to be done, because it has to be done. You can't change my mind that he's Gryffindor lol.

Grover: Do I even need to explain why he's Gryffindor? He's a satyr, and even if we're shown strong satyrs, they're not really supposed to be brave fighters. Yet he is one of the strongest, bravest nature spirits we've ever encountered in the Riordanverse, and one of the bravest in general. Like he's so passionate about doing what is good, he's a hero, and the only thing he doesn't match with common Gryffindors is that he's humble and as far from arrogant as could be possible, but it doesn't take his courage away.

Hazel: She's Gryffindor, and core personality-wise, she and Nico are very much alike. They don't ever think about themselves, like Hazel really always does what has to be done, no matter the cost, I mean she literally died preventing Gaea to rise the first time, and she freed Thanatos while believing he would take her back to the Underworld. She's brave af, and she has one of the most strong willpower we've seen in the Riordanverse. She's a passionate hero, and she's the closest thing to a real knight in shining armor.

Lester: I'm gonna place him in Gryffindor because I don't think he fits in in the other houses lmao. That said, as Apollo he's very shitty, but as Lester, he's one of the most courageous people. He's grown so much, he's so willing to actually do stuff now, and sacrifice everything to do what's right, including his life, even if he doesn't know he's gonna survive. Hell, he really went most of TTT with an incredibly painful wound that nearly turned him undead, and he cared more for the future of Camp Jupiter than his own life. Additionally, he's a bit arrogant and cocky, but he truly means well, I love Lester so much.

Clarisse: Look look, all I have to say is that no one could have pulled off less than half the stuff Clarisse has done, she's so Gryffindor it hurts. She's reckless and impulsive, but she's driven by her passion to do good, even if she's the daughter of war, and was bullied by her own father. She's daring, she's bold and she is the hero. She's also arrogant and thinks she can solve everything by herself, something characteristic more of the canon Gryffindors in the books, rather than what the fans have shaped. In fact, she's very much like Gryffindors in the books, who are actually very rude to other houses and think they're the best. Still, at heart, she's in this house.

Alex: I'm in a huge dilemma about where to put them, but I reckon they'd fit pretty fine in Gryffindor. Not only are they daring and courageous, they're proud of who they are, but not in a too full of themselves kind of way, rather in a 'I am who I am, and if you can't accept me, fuck off' kind of way. They can get carried away rather easily though, and very arrogant, thinking they don't need anyone else, when they do in fact need some company. They are one of the kindest and at the same time most ambitious characters we've met, but they are brave beyond understanding in a very personal way, thus, Gryffindor.

Percy: I think it's fair to say he'd be Hufflepuff, because loyalty is literally his fucking fatal flaw, and he is the kindest sweetheart to all those who deserve it, he goes out of his way to help those who need help, whether that be mortals, halfbloods, gods, magical creatures or even his own enemies. He's too good for this world, and even if he's grown a bit bitter, he always looks to fight justly for what is right, and never loses faith in others. That, and the fact that he turned down immortality so that the olympians were more inclusive of minor gods, and their children were treated better. He's just a lovely soul, he's like 80% Hufflepuff so that's enough for me. All that and he's stubborn as hell.

Jason: Hufflepuff. Just, undoubtedly Hufflepuff. Like he seems to be this cold and self centered hero with a superiority complex (bc of all the son of Jupiter stuff) but he's the softest guy there is. Not only is he hardworking, open minded and kind, he appreciates justice but he doesn't seek for revenge or anything, he makes sure people are treated fairly and wants everyone to be accepted. Proof of that is how he continued Percy's job of including more gods, and made sure Nico felt comfortable with who he was. He truly has a heart of gold. (He deserved better btw)

Meg: God I can't decide between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, but I think I'll go with the former. She's so strong, my baby, she's faced so much wrong, but she's still so kind and understanding of others, especially those who deserve kindness. She puts up such a hard facade, but she's so patient and warm and inclusive. She's brave and strong (as strong as the big three kids, if not stronger), but she's also so loyal to her beliefs despite how she was forced someone else's beliefs for years, so I'll keep her in Hufflepuff. Also, she's stubborn af, and she can be lazy, so that settles it.

Will: I KNOW some people will say Will could be in other houses that are not Hufflepuff, BUT I won't have it any other way. Will is literally the warmest person ever. He is kind and sympathetic and enthusiastic and patient and inclusive. Like Helga Hufflepuff would take one look at him and lose her shit screaming "mine". He's the guy who saw the son of Hades so many people were scared of and immediately grabbed his hand and transfered him some warmth and didn't let him go ahead and get himself killed. He's also the one who everyone loves and likes, so much that Clarisse gets along with him and he can calm her down. He's the ideal Hufflepuff, you can't change my mind.

Magnus: I mean, what else can you expect from the son of the god of summer? He's literally a guy who heals others with warmth. He's also the guy who spent years on the street with the most difficult situations, and accepts every single person the way they are. He's inclusive af, and tolerant of everything. He's the guy who's closest include a deaf elf, a Muslim valkyrie, and a black dwarf, and he's dating a genderfluid person. Yes he's brave, and he's kinda smart, and he's ambitious, BUT none of those qualities overpower his Hufflepuff nature.

Piper: Kinda debated whether Gryffindor or Ravenclaw fits more, but in the end I went with Ravenclaw. Even though she isn't a fighter, she's very very brave, yet her bravery isn't compared to her wits. Like others in the PJOverse, she wins her fights by outsmarting her opponents, but unlike others that's one of her strongest traits. She's witty and creative and a little on the negative side, she really struggled to work in a group rather than by herself. On another note, she's able to keep calm in crazy situations and come up with the craziest most unthinkable solutions (I'm talking borderline ridiculous) that always somehow work. She's not booksmart, but she knows so much about everything, and she's lifesmart you know?

Reyna: Why are some of these so hard? Deeply debating whether she'd be Ravenclaw or Slytherin. In the end I'd go more for Ravenclaw though. Reyna's smart as hell, she's strong and sharp, and she always sees the best way out of a situation. She's witty and observant, being able to keep her cool in battle and lead others in the best direction. She's always looking to grow, and she prefers to do things on her own, but she's a great leader. She has some Slytherin qualities, and she's not learning as learning oriented as others, but she's definitely Ravenclaw.

Sam: Let's face it, Sam has the only active neurons in all of MCGA, she's definitely Ravenclaw. I'm gonna be honest though, I've only read MCGA once, so I can't remember much of their personalities, but Sam is witty and clever, pretty much the only one who can come up with competent plans, while the others rely mostly on luck and whatever plan they can cook up in 5 seconds. She's loyal and true to who she is, and she's extremely courageous and proud of who she is, but her sharpness is what she stands out for me, which is why I put her in Ravenclaw.

Annabeth: I know the obvious option is Ravenclaw, but I genuinely think she's also Slytherin. Yes she is booksmart and wise like Ravenclaw, but her personality matches Slytherins' ambitious, cunning and resourceful nature. She's smart as fuck, but she's calculative, she always finds a way to end up winning, and while she does so by outsmarting her opponents, she wouldn't need to outsmart them if she weren't so competitive. I feel like there's this 40/60 odds on Slytherin rather than Ravenclaw, but it's that small difference that counts. Plus her leadership skills are so powerful that people don't ask, they just know she's the boss.

(Also just picture the sweet and loyal Hufflepuff boy with the strong and cunning Slytherin girl, like it should be as opposite as it is with Poseidon and Athena, but they're so cute)

Leo: Idk what you can expect that's not Slytherin. This boy is the embodiment of ambition and determination. Reminder that not all Slytherins are bad btw (I'm slytherin myself), but like he's life smart and cunning, and he can analyze situations faster than anyone else. He's charismatic and talented, and there's no one to stop him from triumphing. I don't have much to say, I just know he'd be in Slytherin.

Rachel: She's kinda a difficult one, and I struggle between Gryffindor and Slytherin, and tbh I'm still not sure. But I think I'd place her in Slytherin, because even if she's brave af (especially since she was a mortal fighting in a war out of her power), her main trait is her determination. When she's set on something, she gets it done. You can't tell her she can't do something, because she will find a way to do it. She's kind, and she's only a mortal, but she still has incredible power unlike any other. I don't think I can really name it, but I think she'd be put on Slytherin with much difficulty from the Sorting Hat.

Luke: Where else could Luke possibly go? On the meaner side Slytherins have created themselves, Luke would be part of those misled by who preceded them, by those who want to take advantage of their mistreatment (bc let's face it, Slytherins are mistreated by both students and Hogwarts staff), and turn them cold and bitter. Luke is ambitious and manipulative, being manipulated himself, and it comes easily because of his natural charisma and talent. He's very freaking determined and cunning too. He'd fit right into Slytherin, but he'd be viewed as one of the rotten lot.

Thalia: I don't have much to say about this, but Thalia is the girl whose fatal flaw is their desire for power (or smth along those lines), just like most Slytherins. She's ambitious, she's smart, she's truly talented, she stands out between the rest, and she knows it, and she actually kinda likes it.

(Also I put Annabeth, Thalia and Luke in the same house because they're all kinda similar, even if their beliefs and postures are different.

Frank: Ngl I'm having more difficulty with Frank than anyone else. I'm kinda torn between Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. I literally can't choose. He'd fit perfectly in any of them lmao, I just can't decide where he'd go. You decide this one yourself.

Please keep in mind, this is my personal opinion and my take on the characters, and not all of you will agree, and that's fine! You can let me know what you think (kindly please, don't come at me), and if you want to, send me an ask on a character you want me to do the same as these (as long as it's not TKC, I'M SORRY I haven't read those) go ahead, don't be shy!