#and puts me into meltdown territory | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kiarrahatesboys · 14 days ago

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Realistically, today had been a good day. Most of Lena's technology worked perfectly, and any tweaks she needed to make went smoothly. Nia had bought her coffee. At a private moment around noon, Kara had kissed her cheek before flying off to do rounds on the city.

Lena, however, stands in the hallway of Kara’s apartment building wishing she could punch a hole or twelve into the drywall. Her keys - including the spare key to the loft that she had been given - fall out of her hand to the floor, and she feels the tension in her chest build.

It takes an eternal four seconds to pick them up, unlock the door, and step inside.

Kara stands by her kitchen sink, sipping from her purple water bottle. “Hi, baby.”

There is no will to look over and smile in response. Lena drops her purse on the floor and trudges straight to the bed. She falls face-first into it, feet dangling in the air.

All the blankets and abandoned clothes from this morning smell familiar. Lemon and woodsmoke – Kara. Lena likes to joke that the woodsmoke smell is because she flies so fast she burns up.

She can feel the furrow in her eyebrows, and what's worse is that she has no idea why it's there. It was a good day. She didn't even have to make a pit stop at Luthor Corp to put out any fires. There's nothing wrong.

The lack of explanation for her frustration makes her even more frustrated.

“Hey.” The mattress dips as Kara sits down. “Rough day?”

“No,” Lena says into blankets, suddenly near tears. She rolls over onto her back. “That's the thing, it was good. So why am I in meltdown territory?”

Kara’s hand is in her hair – soothing, home, safety. “I’m sorry. Let me help you?”

Lena nods, toeing off her shoes. They clatter to the floor. Kara offers her hands and pulls her into a sitting position. She helps Lena out of her day clothes and expertly offers the right pajamas. Good texture, good match, good breathability.

It takes a moment for her to start pulling them on as she prepares to go from stationary to in motion. The clean air surrounding her body after she changes helps to lessen the dread in her shoulders. Kara knows the little details to make her comfortable - hood up over her head, a fresh pair of socks. Once dressed, Lena flops over onto her side and curls up tight.

Kara leans over to kiss her head. She draws the curtains. The room becomes dark, and Lena feels her eyebrows relax. It’s a warm summer day outside, and the sun has made its presence clear. The darkness now dampening her vision offers peace.

“Do you want me around?” Kara asks, voice soft.

“Yes, please.” Lena sounds childlike. Her voice is fragile, muffled under her hands.

“Okay, scooch. Make room.”

Lena falls limp as a smile ghosts her face.

“Wow. Okay.” Kara heaves a dramatic sigh.

She feels Kara’s arms snake under her body. For a moment, she’s weightless, and then she’s gently set a foot or two over from where she was before. The mattress bounces again as Kara settles.

Lena reaches behind her to pull Kara's arm over her stomach and takes a deep breath.

“Good girl,” Kara says innocently.

“Hmm?”

“The deep breath. Proud of you.”

Lena’s body feels warm with love. “Thanks.”

The conversation lulls. Lena keeps breathing. Cool air keeps her temperature regulated under a hoodie and Kara’s body. Tension still weighs in her chest, but the accommodations matter. Kara doesn't even ask what she needs, she just knows. Lena barely has to move. She's surrounded by so much love.

“I wish I knew what was wrong.” she says into silence.

Kara hums, sounding sleepy and content.

“Like, nothing bad happened. I had a good day. Why do I feel like I want to implode?”

“You’re autistic, love.” Kara slips her hand beneath Lena’s hoodie to hold her tummy. “That happens. Sometimes there's no answer. I know you don't like that, I’m sorry.”

Lena hates how whiny she sounds. “But I want an answer! I want something to fix.”

“I know, baby.”

She sighs, then rolls over into Kara’s embrace. Having nothing to blame makes the situation feel unresolved. Agitation swirls in her gut, but she knows there's nothing to be done. Sometimes there are just days where the world is too much.

“Too much world.” Lena mumbles.

Kara puts a hand in her hair. “I know. I’m sorry. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

As much as the lack of answer makes things unfinished, the hoodie helps. Having the hood up helps. She has clean socks and a dark room. Her girlfriend loves her, and is warm and solid against her.

Despite it all, she's loved. And that’s important too.

"Thank you." she whispers into darkness.

Kara scratches gently at her scalp. "Always, baby."

Always.

#kiarra talks #supercorp #lena luthor #kara danvers #ficlet #supercorp ficlet #i've never done something like this on tumblr before pls be nice about it #also this is a little thingy that i haven't put a whole lot of thought into so don't look too close #ok bedtime for me #merry christmas to those who celebrate #happy holidays to others #supergirl

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cryptias-space · 3 months ago

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I finally finished it!

Welcome fully to the world, human Lord's in Black!

My favorite design is probably Blinky and Tinky. The only one I'm not 100% happy with is Wiggly. I wanted to give him more detailed tartan pants but I just gave up. He has Christmas colors though, I thought it was funny. Nibbly having tanlines was a completely random choice. I think him having a bagel in his mouth gave me too much Aoi Asahina vibes and I was compelled for the tanlines lol

The story so far is that Webby got tired of her brothers wreaking havoc and decided they needed to see how hard it is to be human. She sent them all to Hatchetfield, with Wilbur Cross in toe to keep them in line, as human teenagers. She left Wilbur a book of everything they need to know, including new names and semi new human forms. Along with these new fully human bodies comes with human issues, like disabilities and mental health issues. (AKA more headcanons I can force onto them lol)

Individuals and more info under the cut

First up and shortest at 5 foot 4, Nibblenephim.

Nibbly is now named Nikolai Phillips, or Nicky for short. He is the only one of the LiB to have been put in an AFAB body due to his genderfluid identity and more feminine leaning nature. He does not mind this at all.

When Nicky goes to school he decides on joining the Culinary club, desperate to learn how to cook since Wilbur is so garbage at it. He is constantly being hit on by everyone at school and he takes advantage of it to make them take him to Pasqualli’s to get free food.

With Nibblys design I wanted to steer away from the classic Hairstyle. Everyone has his eyes covered, and while I do love that design so much, it would get in the way of his cooking and it isn't practical. I personally hc him as genderfluid and afab so I had to do it to him lol

The "human issue" I'm giving Nicky is ADHD and really bad memory issues. This is going to cause people to tease him for being dumb and while he jokes back about it, the teasing does get to him.

Second in at 5 foot 6, T'noy Karaxis.

Tinky is now named Tobias Kelly, or Tobi for short. Despite being 18 his goatee often makes people think he's older.

Tobi joined band, specifically as a trumpet player (iykyk), as well as joining the robotics club. He spends most of his time clinging to Peter Spankoffski and breaking into Theodore Spankoffski's home and workplace. He is constantly getting in trouble at school for being a class clown.

With Tinkys design I was going for a sort of extremely simple pastel goth or harajuku. Originally I wanted to give him way more of a Decora fashion but I didn't want him to look too complicated. He compulsively buys and plays with rubicks cubes (the colors are supposed to reference the Spankoffski brothers) also, notice the Tobi ♡ Peter friendship bracelet... Peter won't wear his lol

The "human issues" I'm giving Tobi is Autism and BPD. I feel like Tinky being autistic in any way makes sense, so Tobi is autistic with a special interest in puzzles and electronics (and the Skankoffski's but he won't admit that). With extremely sensitive ears and autism, he tends to have meltdowns often. And these meltdowns tend to be in public, causing people to judge him and think of him as a child. The BPD comes in with quick changing emotions, Ted and Pete being his favorite persons and getting extremely jealous and territorial. (I have BPD so I had to force this on him lol)

In the middle and completely average at 5 foot 10, Wiggog Y’Wrath. (He says he's 6 foot)

Wiggly is now named Waylon Webb. An obvious reference to the Waylon's and a painful reminder that Webby is the one who did this to them.

Waylon joined the chess team and quickly became the best player, and the leader. He also ran for student council president and won. He used his siblings skills to make sure he won. He bribed the student body with Nicky's food, annoyed the competition with Tobi's trumpet playing, and took amazing campaign photos with the help of Benjamin (Blinky). Percy (Pokey) refused to help him.

With Wiggly's design I wanted to go very simple and stick with the letterman jacket he had in NPMD. However... I had to give him red pants, I needed him to be Christmas colors lol I wish I spent time to figure out how to do his pants but alas, I am dumb. He wears the crown all the time, and it often gets stolen by Max Jägerman to tease him for being short

The "human issues" I'm giving Waylon is NPD. He views himself as better than everyone, save for a few specific people he views as equals. He struggles with self esteem and even if he would never admit it, what others think of him really matters. He often goes into crashes if the people around him ignore him too much, and he will go into highs when he gets too cocky. When he's in one of these crashes, Waylon gets extremely depressed and either isolates or desperately seeks attention. (I also have NPD so I had to force this on him lmao)

The second tallest at 6 foot 1, Bliklotep.

Blinky is now named Benjamin Thomas, or Benji for short. While he does have a face, his eyes being green if you're curious, he almost always has a phone or camera in front of his face.

Benji joined the photography club as well as the school newspaper. He writes almost exclusively gossip columns but the school eats it up. He does however take amazing photos for his siblings when needed, and also seems to have a strange obsession with amusement parks. Speaking of strange obsession, much like Tobi, Benji is often breaking into the CCRP building, but no one is quite sure why. Whenever asked he just says "an old friend" works there.

Blinky is my favorite design of the group I think. I knew I wanted him to be kinda feminine and lanky, but not as feminine as Nibbly and not as twink body as Pokey. His eye motif worked so well for the overalls and I feel like I managed to make eyes and overals not feel like The Minions lamo I also love the orange hair with the purple in it. The boots are supposed to be the knee high convers but in all magenta. I should have added the white on the toe but I forgot lol

The "human issues" I'm giving Benjamin is Hallucinations. I'm not knowledgeable enough to specify what disorder he has that's causing them, I'm leaning towards Schizophrenia, but again, I don't want to label it until I do more research. He often sees, hears, and feels things that aren't there. Most frequently he sees creepy, disembodied eyes surrounding him. When he hears things he often covers his ears and shouts to get them to go away, causing people to stare at him, which only makes him panic. His tactile hallucinations are almost always the feeling of bugs on and under his skin. (This is the type of Hallucinations I deal with so I had to force it on him lmao)

And lastly but definitely not least, the tallest of the human Lord's coming in at 6 foot 3, Pokotho.

Pokey is now named Percy Martins. He is the tallest and also has the deepest voice of the siblings.

Percy joins the drama club, obviously. He actually manages to get roles despite being a new student. He spends almost all his time in the auditorium practicing for auditions or the roles that he gets. Surprisingly he latched onto Richie the same way that Tobi latched onto Pete. Percy constantly asks Richie if he can come over to his house, and seems to know a surprising amount about Richies uncle. Just like Tobi and Benji, Percy is also constantly breaking into the CCRP building. When asked he will say "his muse" works there. He also has a deep seeded hatred for coffee bur refuses to elaborate on why.

With Pokey's design I wanted it to be comfortable but also elegant. To me he's giving Howl from Howls Moving Castle lol I was really determined to give him locs and honestly? I think I did a really good job for my first time! He has little jewels hanging out of them and also has his own mask as a necklace. The cane is very functional for him, but he definitely should have a different type of cane, possibly a different aid in general but he refuses to use the others because he thinks they're not fancy enough.

The "human issues" I'm giving Percy is chronic pain, POTS, and autism. The POTS and pain is what makes him need the cane. He often has to sit or lie down because of how light headed he will get. Also, he always has lots of water and salty snacks in his bag. He's autistic, special interest in musical theater. He has really bad sensory issues with textures, and much like Tobi, gets easily overstimulated. However, unlike Tobi, when he gets overwhelmed to any degree, he goes non speaking. This is really annoying to him, as he loves the sound of his own voice and hates not being able to speak. This causes him a lot of distress, which only makes him more overwhelmed.

That's it! I'm really proud of these designs, and I really hope to keep writing this fic idea. I love these fuckers so much

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bluedalahorse · 8 days ago

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This is a Sara and August Appreciation Post (Favorite Non-Wilmon Overall Ship)

A post written for YRFavesFest2024, graciously hosted by @youngroyals-events. This is in response to prompt #6.

They’re so awkward. I love them.

If I learned anything from the historical example of Vasa, it’s that some ships are destined to sink. But lo, they sink so majestically that you must cherish them and build an entire museum dedicated to their cultural significance.

Such are my feelings for Sara and August. They have been my two very favorite characters in Young Royals from day one, and also they are in love? They’re both so deeply flawed, with so much chemistry, and they’re both so very lonely, that you can see why they’re drawn to one another like magnets.

Truly, I could honor saraugust in any number of ways, but I realized looking back that they were above all extremely fun to write about. So in this post, I’ve put together snippets from fics I’ve written about Sara and August, both finished/published and unfinished/unpublished, that showcase all the fun I’ve had with their dynamic over the years.

I’m going to put the fic snippets below a cut, as this post will be as long as Malte is tall. Also, as a heads up, there will be some excerpts that trend a bit naughty, but never anything explicit. Enjoy!

Terrain Boundaries Territory was the first fic I wrote for them in summer of 2021. I went into a two-week fugue state and forgot to do anything else while I worked out the story.

In TBT, Sara decides she’s going to get revenge on August for how he treated Simon. She decides she’s going to do that by dating him, finding out all his secrets, and ruining him somehow. Of course, as Sara and August get closer and more entangled, things get more complicated between them.

I used this fic to discover characterizations for Sara and August, mostly, and figured out what made them tick. It really helped me to bond with them as characters. I feel like my Simon is reasonably characterized, but the other secondary characters need… a lot of work. At this point the show was new, I was lurking, and I couldn’t even keep the character names straight. It showed.

I wrote TBT right when I got into verse novels, so it’s in verse. I also decided I was going to write Sara’s POV as a second person narrator, to put the reader uncomfortably close to what she’s thinking and feeling. These things are fun to play with in an MFA program, but they’re a bit risky for fanfiction, where a lot of fans prefer familiar tropes and writing styles. I still love that this fic reignited my passion for writing fanfiction in general.

Also there’s a Fleabag reference that no reader has found yet. Beat you to the punch, Lisa.

An excerpt:

There is a floorboard in the hallway where August’s step hesitates, a door on his left like a gap between fangs. In the evening, now sober, you return without him— stand in the threshold of the door and sniff each layer of dust, catalogue the shrouded furniture, the landscapes painted in storms of oils, the one tall harp, out of tune. Footsteps, doubling back. His shadow touches your shoulders and, This is where we found my Pappa dead. Like he didn’t mean to say it out loud. Did he know he was being too honest? You know what that’s like.

Next excerpt comes from an unfinished, August-POV sequel to Terrain Boundaries Territory I was writing in Fall and Winter of 2021. After TBT, I was asking myself: well, how did August manage to fall in love with Sara? I could feel, instinctively, that he was going to fall in love with her, whenever season 2 of YR came around. I just wanted to work out what it would look like. I started to play with the idea that maybe he dates her to deflect any suspicion about the video, but starts to soften toward her as he realizes they have a lot of loneliness and grief in common.

In this scene, Sara’s just had a meltdown during a clash between Marieberg and Hillerska students. Sara and August are just starting to date publicly, and everyone has thoughts, including Sara’s old bullies. They’re nasty to her, and Rosh (who happens to be both Present and Intimidating) tells them off. Sara runs away, and August goes to find her.

They talk:

“So you have some friends at Marieberg.” “They’re Simon’s friends. They only like me because of Simon.” Oh. Shit. If August were a good boyfriend (which, he isn’t) and this were a real relationship (it’s not, they just need one another for appearances) he’d tell Sara I like you because of you. Maybe also I’ll always put you first. They’ve only been official for a short while, but guys have whispered bolder lies into a new girlfriend’s hair. That’s sort of how relationships work, isn’t it? Always moving too fast and lying. August wants to say that because Sara’s brushed aside the graveyard dirt that covers up an old memory: his first parents’ weekend, back when he was a gangly kid with no muscle definition and no idea how to dress himself, when he told his mamma people only like me because Erik makes them. That put a shocked expression on Mamma’s face. Then she forgot just ten minutes later, when she told August she was seeing people again. Three years and becoming prefect should have dulled August’s memories of that weekend, but now unearthed, the memories only make the present feel fake. Sara’s closed in on herself—head bowed, eyes on the ground, now ungloved hands clutching at her elbows. Inside Sara must feel cold, raw, bruised, inert. Like forgotten meat at the back of a freezer. It’s not fair that she should feel that. Not when she’s smart and detail-oriented and secretly daring. Not when she’s the sort of girl who becomes a social media heroine for rescuing cats. August is too scared of saying I like you, even as he’s counting all the reasons people should like Sara. So instead he asks, “Do you want me to hold you?” Sara nods. August follows the advice of football scarf girl and hugs Sara tight. She doesn’t tense up—it’s the first time he’s felt her relax, actually. That he’s noticed. If he’s going to pull off this fake boyfriend thing, maybe he should notice more. “You asked,” says Sara. “You’ve never asked before.” Talking into his coat, she adds, “I need somewhere to rest.” “I told you, you can always use my room.” “Somewhere to actually rest.” “I know. I understand. Come on.” He takes her hand and leads her back to the dorms.

Next, in early 2022, @heliza24 and I began publishing Heart and Homeland, our ensemble regency AU. I think to this day, we’re one of the few true ensemble fics in YR fandom that gives all five main characters roughly equal POV time, but I could be wrong about that. I intend to finish the epilogue chapters in 2025.

Anyway, I felt like I had a solid grasp on Sara and August at this point, and also I love period dramas. Do you know how exciting it was for me to write them in a troubled gothic romance situation? Sara’s the governess for Felice’s younger sisters, and August is attending Hillerska with Simon and Wilhelm while also being engaged to Felice. Felice breaks off her engagement to August though, and then after a Series Of Dramatic Events, Sara and August run off together.

The first twentysome chapters of the fic were written before season 2, and I think I did a reasonably good job predicting Sara and August’s dynamic. Also, they hooked up in a moving carriage, so I may have predicted a Bridgerton season as well, oops. Anyway, here’s a scene from the morning after that hookup, and if you’ve read far enough into the story, you know this will have tragic resonance later on:

Sara tugged the dressing gown tighter around her shoulders. August sat beside her on the bed, careful not to upset his mug. An aroma from Sara’s childhood filled the air, and she remembered how Pappa, in his better moods, used to let her grind coffee beans when he came back from his voyages. Preparing coffee for Pappa and Mamma helped Sara to feel useful, even though she had not been allowed to drink it herself. “That’s coffee, isn’t it?” Sara asked. The smell never bothered her the way it did Simon, after Pappa was arrested for smuggling it. “It is,” said August. “Her Majesty’s ban doesn’t really apply here with us. It is really only for the general public’s benefit, to help them moderate their vices.” Vices. Sara felt she had not indulged hers enough. “May I have some coffee?” “You may.” August handed Sara the mug, and Sara drank as he drawled on. “Speaking of Her Majesty, she is in good health, although of course it distressed her to learn of last night’s events. I am glad I was the one to bring her the news and reassure her of His Highness’s well-being. One needs the support of family at such dire times.” He was showing off now, speaking breezily about his connections to the monarchy, as if Sara herself hadn’t danced with the prince earlier. “Her Majesty has already implied that I should stay in town for the coming days so that I can assist Wille as he returns to the palace. I will be back and forth between here and there. You must promise not to fret too much when I’m out.” “I am capable of occupying myself, and you are quite committed to serving the realm. We will manage a few hours apart,” said Sara. A moment later she realized that he probably wanted her to say something else. Felice had explained once that boys sometimes expressed such sentiments so that girls could reassure them of their devotion. “Of course in practice, I am sure I will miss you, and that you will miss me.” Things were moving fast. Sara took a final long sip of coffee before handing the mug back to August. “Here you are.” August looked down into the mug. “You drank all of it.” “You will have to bring me more, then.” Sara smiled.

Now that we’ve had Sara and August in the historical past, let’s move on to some fic where they find one another again in the future! While I am very satisfied with their breakup at the end of season 3, and think it’s what was right for them, I sometimes imagine a possible future where they can try again and things work out for them. Why? Because I like seeing them kiss. It’s really not that deep.

Here’s something unfinished I wrote after season 3, where the Swedish people are about to vote on a referendum about whether or not they want to end the monarchy. August (who has been through a lot of character development and worked to make things up with Simon) just assumes everyone is going to vote to end the monarchy, so he’s doing everything he can to make sure the transition goes smoothly and that they can give the monarchy a good “funeral” and such. Meanwhile, Sara is working a toxic nonprofit job that takes advantage of her passion to make the world a better place. And wouldn’t you know it? They’re crossing paths:

August nods and exits out through the double doors, and just like that, Sara becomes a royal guest. Perhaps one of the last royal guests ever, if last week’s polling data means anything. She hopes no one will interview her for a documentary about it in the future. There’s a farcical moment two minutes afterward where August sticks his head back in and says he’s forgotten his sunscreen, and Sara hands him the bottle before he goes out again. It’s a brand she’s never seen before—something ridiculously expensive and high SPF. Fragrance free, too. Sara can’t help watching through the windows as August rubs the sunscreen onto the back of his neck and onto his exposed forearms. Can’t help wondering if she’d have rubbed it in for him, admonishing him like you know you burn so easily, if they’d had their summer weekends in Bjärstad during his military service like he’d wanted. Still, Sara hadn’t wanted it, then, and that thought should be enough to push herself back into fifteen minute stretches of newsletter edits and donor emails. Sara reminds herself of her bosses’ talking points: that PuzzleChildrens’ oldest donors appreciate the paper copies of the newsletter they receive each month, that the personal stories of lost children remind them where their money is going, that Sara is doing so well at communicating with people and that she shouldn’t worry too much about creating a perfect product, only one that reaches people’s hearts. She opens up a colleague’s story about a pitiable single mother in Luleå called Maja, whose eleven-year-old daughter Saga has been “stolen” by a serious disease. The colleague is older and touchy, so Sara phrases all her line edits delicately. What she really wants to type is: Don’t call meltdowns “tantrums.” Of course Saga has empathy, she loves her dog and she probably feels that very deeply. And for fuck’s sake arm flapping isn’t a “babyish gesture.” But no. She can’t respond like that. Not with the amount of money these newsletters raise, not when her older colleagues don’t know things, and she was the one hired to educate them. Sara thinks that maybe, the cotton of her sundress would be better if it were rougher. If she could run the nail of her index finger across her hip and it would hurt just enough to remind her how to communicate with people at work so they don’t think she’s a freak. Eventually Sara’s phone buzzes with an incoming text, pulling her out of her thoughts. Do you want something to drink? It’s from August. Sara looks up, and he’s still outdoors on the balcony. He glances in Sara’s direction and offers her a stiff—but not unfriendly—wave. The glass between them is impossibly clean, probably scrubbed this morning by the staff at Solliden. Sara texts back. I don’t want to trouble you too much. Are you having something? Seltzer. There’s a local brand that just launched, they do one with an elderflower and pear infusion. August makes a face at his phone (Sara’s still watching him, it’s that twisting expression his mouth sometimes makes when he’s embarrassed himself, like he’s gotten an unexpected taste of sour candy) and types a follow up. It’s less pretentious than it sounds. You can have what you want though. We’re well-stocked here. Seltzer sounds good, Sara responds. I’ll have that, thanks.

Do I have other future scenarios? Yes. One of them involves Sara and August on a road trip back to Sweden (they can’t do air travel because of a volcanic explosion in Iceland) so they can get to Wilhelm and Simon’s engagement party in time. This is a future set after August leaves the monarchy behind, but hasn’t explained to anyone why and it’s a bit of an incident. Sara is working a shitty nonprofit job in this story idea, too, since the road trip idea was sort of a 2.0 iteration of what you see above.

Anyway, when I think about them as adults, I enjoy letting them be a little bit kinky. Mostly because they both seem to have intense sensory needs and would also like figuring out the power exchanges, and also because you can have a scenario where Sara’s tried more kinks than August has, and it reverses the experience dynamic they have as teenagers. Like this:

Sara presses the brush bristles down onto August’s open palm. It’s only a little bit of extra pressure, spread out over multiple prickling points, but it sends a current up his arm and through his chest. August draws in a sharp breath. He and Sara meet eyes. They’re studying one another now, like they’ve both been hit by the realization that it’s been over ten years and they’ve tried other things with other partners. “So.” Sara smiles out of one corner of her mouth. “You like a little bit of pain?” “Maybe,” says August. “I mean, life at the palace was pretty conservative, so I didn’t get to explore much—” “Please.” Sara is the one laughing now, and there’s a mixture of affection and disdain in it that makes something in August’s stomach curl. “Royals get away with doing all kinds of kinky shit.” “Not me,” says August. “I was working all the time.” His face flushes as he realizes how embarrassing it sounds—Sara’s giving him an are you kidding me look—but there’s also something hot about it at the same time. About wanting to squirm under her gaze. “We could try something tonight,” says Sara. “if you want.” “We promised ourselves we wouldn’t.” “We said we wouldn’t touch each other. And we won’t. I’m only going to touch you with the brush. Do you want me to explain?”

Sara domming is fantastic, but I also kind of imagine saraugust as a couple with with swtichy vibes. Which is why in L’escarpolette, twentysomething Sara has a surreal sex dream about getting tied up on a swing while she’s wearing her Valentine’s ball clothes:

August kneels, and that’s when Sara knows she has him where she wants him. Or, he has her where he wants her. Whichever is the truth. August reaches for Sara’s foot—the one that hasn’t lost its ballet flat—and his eyes meet Sara’s as he slides the shoe off and sets it aside. He bends down further to kiss her ankle. A current of electricity travels up Sara’s leg. The sensation leaves Sara twitching and ticklish. August seizes the hem of her skirts and lifts. Out of the corner of Sara’s eye she glimpses the firelight down at the bottom of the hill, where the mysterious eighteenth century party frolics on. Perhaps sparks of that light glint in people’s eyes or in the lenses of their opera glasses as they swivel their gaze toward the hill… Sara’s balance falters. She tips backward. “Wait wait wait.” August lets go of Sara’s skirts and claps his hands back around her waist, steadying her before she can hit the ground. “I want to make sure you don’t fall.” He’s so earnest, and Sara still feels ticklish. She giggles, and August joins her, and for a moment they are consumed by the giddiness that comes with carrying out an odd and daring experiment in the night. But how to avoid falling? Sara follows the line of the swing’s ropes upward. Oh. Those flowering vines hanging down from the tree branches. They’re waving ever so slightly in the breeze, as if they’re trying to get her attention in secret. In her waking life, Sara sometimes imagines what it would be like to tie up a lover. Or what it would be like to ask a lover to tie her up. She’s never felt like she could ask anyone. Maybe here…

To finish off this post, let’s talk canon divergences. I once had a commenter on one of my fics say that they saw Sara and August as a case of Right Person, Wrong Timing. I can get behind this idea myself, and it’s always made me wonder what their relationship would be like when they met earlier, when August is raw from grief in his first year at Hillerska, and Sara is still experiencing bullying in public school. I’ve started a fic along those lines, and I’m hoping to finish it soon for events in January or February.

Looks like Sara and August are going to have to escape a situation together:

The boy in the closet with her is pale and slim. He twitches and groans softly. Something pinches inside Sara’s chest. Sympathy? He looks as trapped here as she is, and Sara wants to trust him. Just so she isn’t alone. She crawls over to the boy and kneels at his side. She keeps a house key in her palm just in case. His eyes flutter open halfway. “You’re awake,” Sara says. “Fuck.” He blinks. “You’re… Sara?” “Yes,” she says. It’s a relief to hear someone say her name aloud, even though he’s a stranger. “Did you hit your head when you fell?” Haltingly, the boy pushes himself up to a sitting position. “I’m… not sure.” “You should check.” He’s quite tall, Sara notices. And he’s sitting still, not checking his head like she told him to. Sara can’t tell from looking at him if he has any lumps on his head; he has thick, dark curls that hide that. She’d have to run her fingers through his hair if she was going to help him check. Will she have to? The boy hasn’t moved yet. It’s like he’s in a daze. Sara’s fingers twitch. She’s impatient. Before she can raise her hands and look the boy over, to make sure that he’s safe, he finally shakes himself alert and moves his hands to his hair. “No lumps,” the boy says. “So I’m alright.” His eyes land on Sara. “Are you…” Sara replies with the truth. “They locked me in here for hours. We need to get out.”

Anyway. Do you see how much these two fuel me? Do you see The Vision? More fic to come on a tumblr near you!

#young royals #yrfavesfest2024 #sara eriksson #august horn of årnäs #saraugust #sargust #my fic #i love them both so much

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superblysubpar · 2 years ago

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🥺 so um for your dad blurbs, what about like a lil ‘meet cute’ sitch with singledad!eddie x singlemom!reader. maybe their lil toddlers become friends on the playground or somethin’?? idk idk feel free to ignore me!! 💗

cece um what? why why why would I ignore you or this?! Sorry this one too got away from me, I can't seem to write teeny tiny blurbs guys. Thank you so much for requesting and I hope you like it! 💛dad blurbs

summary: see above Eddie deals with his daughter throwing a tantrum but - this is fluff warnings: single mom reader, descriptions of wiggling worms and reader touching them so if you ain't into bugs sorry | even if a fic is not marked 18+, my blog is - please respect this

1.5k words

Why Do Worms Exist?

singledad!eddie munson x singlemom!reader

Hands tugging at his curls in impatience as he juggles the backpack, the keys, the twelve leaves left in his custody and the angry toddler in his arms.

“Down!” she tugs harsher and he huffs.

Haircuts and baths seemed to be the only time his kid felt like reminding him that she was in fact his kid. Squirming and wrestling and shrieking loud enough the glass on the apartment windows could pop. He was grateful for his daughter, don’t get him wrong. Reminding himself whenever the demon possessed her during those moments that she’d be his quiet and wonderful kid again soon.

But no one could have predicted that walking and exploring and learning would hit around the same time as Autumn in Hawkins - well okay, maybe someone else could have other than him. But no one, including Eddie could have foreseen that his unique and already quirky baby girl would be fascinated by any and everything that season had to offer her. And, really, how could he have predicted the meltdowns about these things when he told her she couldn’t take them all home with her?

Fucking leaves.

And worms. Why’d his kid have to like worms?

Maybe that was his own fault for calling her Bug. Were worms bugs? Were they their own…species? Jesus Christ he barely got his diploma and now here he is with a kid having a level thirteen meltdown about leaves. What happened when she got older and had questions about these things she found fascinating and he had nothing to offer her? Maybe Dustin would have a book on it. Or Robin. She’s into weird stuff and random facts.

Eddie sucks in his breath as Sam yanks one curl particularly hard and realizes that if it’s bad now, the very near future of Spring would be even worse. And oh god, the rain and the mud and even more worms and his heart starts racing faster as he thinks about how much bigger she’d be come then. She’d put up even more of a fight.

He finally gets the pack over his shoulder, the keys tucked safely in a pocket. Sammy’s butt supported under his arm and his hand with the leaves wrapped around her back. Twelve leaves - they’d barely made it down the sidewalk.

She pushes against his chest, cheeks red and flushed to match her bright red rain boots dangling and kicking dangerously close to unwanted territory and he winces, “Hey, hey, watch it Bug. Getting too close for comfort there.”

Eddie knows she didn’t catch any of that and her tiny hands wind fists into his hair and her chin wobbles as he prepares for the wail to come and he squeezes his eyes shut. Only to be met with fiercer squirming and a head butt to his jaw that makes his ears ring, “Ouch! Sammy, come on, you can get down soon!”

He didn’t yell, but he definitely raised his voice more than he meant to. Sam cries and cries like he’d seen other kids do when heading in the opposite direction of the park. As they round the corner he can see the bright reds, yellows, and blues of the slides and jungle gym.

“Look, Bug, swings,” trying and failing to calm her down with a favorite word and activity. He sighs as other parents look his way as he gets closer. Sure, his kids shrieking was disturbing the peace but theirs screaming on the playground was fine. Gossiping and judging girls from high school who grew up into moms but didn’t outgrow anything else.

He sits on the bench as Sammy pulls and yanks more, closing his eyes again. Eddie presses his forehead to hers, wincing every time she hits against it. He speaks quietly, “Bug, come on, listen to daddy. Calm down.”

He sets the leaves on the bench and the crying stops almost instantly. He opens his eyes, Sam’s temple to his nose, crocodile tears trailing down her cheeks and tiny chubby hands reaching towards the pile.

“Leeb,” she hiccups and grabs at the pile.

Eddie holds her in a firm lock, hand rubbing soothing circles up and down her back, “Leaf?”

She grunts, trying to squirm away again and she whines, “Pwease!”

Heart aching because she’s trying to say please, and she knows that’s the nice way to ask as she calms down. But god, he can’t have her bringing home every leaf from the park.

“Bug,” he taps the pile, “Leaves stay here. Not coming home with us. Leaves stay outside.”

She huffs and he watches in wonder and awe as she nods and whispers, “Owside leebs.”

He grins. He did it. He dealt with a tantrum while judgey moms watched and his daughter is smart. She understood so much and she was probably gonna be a scientist or some crazy awesome shit he couldn’t even come up with.

Eddie kisses her nose and wipes her cheeks with his thumbs, body relaxing, “Right. Outside leaves. Ready to go play?”

She shimmies out of his grasp, legs dangling until her boots hit the ground and she wanders toward the playground only to pick up a stick. Poking at the dirt and he covers his smile when she sits. Her plaid jumper and tights dragging and collecting all the dirt and leaves they can manage.

A little boy sits next to her and she smiles at him, a dimple popping out and extending a stick to him like Eddie had taught her to share. He swallows harshly when she grabs his hand and they waddle to a particularly muddy puddle.

Oh fuck. She’s gonna get even older and the meltdowns aren’t gonna be about fucking worms they’re gonna be about boys or drinking or-

“You look like you’re dealing with some extreme and sudden realizations right now.”

Eddie glances up to see you standing near his bench, smiling kindly and a cup of coffee in your hands. He’s taken aback one because an adult is talking to him instead of standing off to the side and judging and two because holy shit were you pretty.

He gulps audibly, “I-uh,” he glances back at his daughter who’s fully laying in the dirt on her stomach now and he smiles, “Yeah, uh I guess you could say that.”

Gesturing to his kid and the little boy, “I see yours is corrupting mine. Believe it or not we’d managed to stay away from dirt until today.”

Eddie grins widely, “Well wait till he finds all the things crawling around in the dirt and wants to take them home.”

Your gloved hand presses to your cheek, dragging it down as you groan loudly, “Why do worms exist?”

He watches you watch the kids, your face melting into warmth and that sappy wow that’s mine look he knows he gets with Sammy all the time. He’s a goner if you’re single.

Gesturing to the bench and scooting over he sighs, “Pretty sure only to torture parents.”

“Great. Can’t wait,” you deadpan and sit, removing your gloves and extending a hand to him and introducing yourself.

Just because there isn’t a ring doesn’t mean anything. He shakes it back, “Eddie.”

Nodding your head to the little boy who’s flinging dirt around wildly with his stick, “That’s Parker. My right hand guy.”

Eddie straightens and sees the webs across the backpack you’re stuffing the gloves in and smirks, “As in Peter?”

Clearing your throat and taking a sip of your coffee before continuing, “Yeah, I’m shameless. I named my kid after my favorite superhero, okay? I was alone and drugged up on all the painkillers they could legally give me.”

Alone.

He waves his hand, “It’s okay, mine's after a Lord of the Rings character.”

You smile at him, shy and sweet. He should just ask right? Or offer up his own information. Is it like just sharing your phone number with a girl? Hey, I’m Eddie, I’m a single parent are you? Not sure what’s about to come out of his mouth, but he’s stopped as his daughter decides she wants to be the worst wingwoman on planet earth right at that moment.

“Hole pwease,” her tiny voice brings his attention down, extending her dirt smothered hands out to you.

Your mom instincts kick in, holding out your hands like it’s nothing but Eddie knows exactly what Sammy is about to drop in your hands. He’s not quick enough when he leans forward though,

“No, Bug, don’t-”

Several squirming worms drop down into your palms and he watches your eyes go wide. You don’t freak out or grimace though, instead you smile and extend your hands out further when your son drops more into the pile.

Your smile is bright, cheeks popping and eyes shimmering and your laugh swirls around his heart as you speak to them in a way that makes his stomach flutter, “Woah you guys! Look at all these awesome worms!”

He watches in awe as you ask their names and sit patiently with wiggling worms in your hands as they point and poke at them and his daughter holds one up closer to your face and your eyes go wide and she giggles.

He’s a total and absolute goner.

#eddie munson #singledad!eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n

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jubileemon · 10 months ago

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Hazbin Hotel: Poison Song

The song became controversial due to the visuals that accompany it were seem as portraying the topic of sexual abuse in an insensitive and some sort of sick fetish, but not from Angel Dust's perspective. Let me explain:

Valentino's Obsession and Control

Valentino's behavior towards Angel extends beyond professional boundaries, crossing into personal and sexual territory. His obsession with Angel Dust is evident in his relentless pursuit and control over him, which includes forcing himself upon Angel Dust and engaging in non-consensual acts. The series does not shy away from depicting the grim reality of such abusive relationships, challenging the audience to confront the severity of these issues.

Angel's inability to break free from Valentino's grip is symbolized by a contract that legally binds him to his abuser. The series hints at the possibility of escape, suggesting that the contract's dissolution could be the key to the sinner's liberation. However, the power to terminate this contract lies with Valentino, leaving Angel in a state of limbo and dependence.

Coping Mechanism and Self-Destruction

Angel was bound by a contract to Valentino, faces a harrowing existence under his dominion. Valentino, who is both Angel Dust's employer in the adult film industry and his abuser, employs gaslighting tactics to keep Angel Dust in line. The series showcases the psychological impact of such abuse, with Angel Dust being subjected to poor mistreatment and threats that leave him feeling trapped and hopeless.

Angel Dust's coping strategy involves substance abuse and self-sabotage, hoping to become so broken that Valentino will lose interest in him. This tragic approach to dealing with trauma is a reflection of the harsh reality faced by many abuse victims, who sometimes resort to self-harm in an effort to become unappealing to their abusers.

It is worth noting that Valentino is the one who should be freaking out in this scene, not Angel Dust, because actually managing to piss off Lucifer's daughter is like a mouse finally poking a lazy cat into action. But Charlie's demeanor is so unthreatening that even when she is clearly going to break Valentino like a twig for his behavior, Valentino isn't threatened and Angel actually stops Charlie from attacking him, seeing her as the one in danger. This is noted to be a favorite tactic of real-life abusers, in which they psychologically bind their victims so badly that they themselves will refuse help from people who would've saved them with little effort.

Angel's meltdown when Husk rejects him one too many times is both this and even more sadder, reminding us that Valentino's abuse has all but fully convinced Angel that his only worth is sex. As well as after Husk called him fake right before the meltdown, his eyes glow magenta and he gets up in Husk’s face.

The Music

The 'Poison' music video serves as a metaphorical exploration of Angel Dust's entrapment and addiction to the toxic relationship with Valentino. Visual elements such as pink smoke-like chains represent Valentino's control, while the ambiguous nature of their sexual encounters raises questions about consent. The video culminates in a scene that encapsulates the fear and distress Angel Dust experiences, highlighting the cyclical nature of abuse.

At one point in the song Angel straight up says that he can only blame himself instead of pinning any of it on "the poisoner" for all the abuse he's being put through. A harrowing reminder of how too many a victim feels like they've brought their suffering upon themselves or, worse, believe they deserve it.

Throughout the sequence, Angel is trying to maintain his "mask" of super-confidence and semi-aggressive sexuality on camera... but the mask keeps slipping. His face flashes from resigned, to frightened, to just plain tired, before he has to fake enthusiasm again. Worse, Valentino appears to be deliberately throwing Angel off his stride whenever he successfully gets into character: for example, when during the dance sequence between Angel and Valentino, Angel's doing a good job of appearing graceful and seductive...until Valentino literally yanks Angel's soul-contract chain to bring him crashing to the ground, a move that clearly startles Angel.

During the final dance sequence, the Angel we see "happily" dancing on stage is contrasted with his "real" self shown on screens surrounding him, going through the agonizing abuse that Valentino subjects him to. When Valentino arrives and drags Angel off to be raped again, it's flipped on its head — now the Angel on stage is fearful and upset while his screen counterpart "happily" continues the dance. "I disassociate, disappear" indeed...

#hazbin hotel #hazbin analysis #vivziepop #angel dust #character analysis #song #song analysis #hazbin hotel poison #valentino #hazbin hotel valentino #valdust #hazbin angel dust #angel dust hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel angel dust #abuse #toxic relationship #huskerdust #poison hazbin hotel

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avelera · 2 years ago

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Headcanon: ADHD Hob and Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria

So I went down the rabbithole on ADHD and rejection sensitivity dysphoria (and found this lecture that legit made me tear up if you have or think you have ADHD, go listen to it here) and it got me thinking, as everything is wont to do, about Hob Gadling and how if he had ADHD, which I think there's lots of fun in-text hints at that at least allow that interpretation, what are some other ways that could manifest besides his ebullient and never-ending love of life in all its endless variety?

So as sufferers of ADHD know, it's not all fun and games. The flip side of living with a dopamine-starved brain that's always seeking out new experiences and seeing the world through that lens is that other emotions slam us hard too, like rejection sensitivity dysphoria aka, "the most minor criticism can feel like an actual knife in the chest, no I don't mean mildly bummed out, I mean full on fight-or-flight brain meltdown because someone told you a comma is in the wrong place in your manuscript (not that I'm speaking from personal experience yes it's that dumb)".

ANYWAY, so I'm thinking about Hob and RSD and specifically 1789.

Specifically the line, "It's just how it's done," referring to horrific practice of human trafficking and how Hob basically shrugs while, to his minor credit, looking suddenly uncomfortable and guilty, about the fact he actively profits from this industry, and the way he cringes in on himself when called out kinda seems to indicate that he knows it's a vile practice and isn't super comfortable with being reminded of his fact by someone he respects, like Dream.

A couple notes on that little exchange between Hob and Dream:

1 ) The face Ferdinand Kingsley-as-Hob makes in that moment is absolute textbook adult ADHD rejection sensitivity dysphoria. Namely, the point where you know criticism hits you like a knife in the heart, particularly from people you respect, and you just have to cover that flinch of literal physical pain with a careful poker face.

The way Hob's tone suddenly goes cold and with his very genteel, received-pronunciation manners he levels Dream with perhaps the closest he's ever come at this point to lashing out, "You're giving me advice...?"

I'm not saying that canonically it's RSD, or that neurotypical people don't suffer pain and disappointment when receiving disapproval, but to my eyes at least, Ferdie Hob takes Dream's comment very seriously, much more so than the comic counterpart did (who needed multiple nudges before he even realized what Dream was trying to tell him about getting out of the shipping business and still seemed a bit clueless about why Dream would want that or care by the end).

2 ) Going into proper headcanon territory, I personally chart Hob's journey from destitute to wealthy slave trader as the product of someone who stopped giving a shit about others after everything he suffered in the 1600s. To be perfectly clear, this is not a fucking excuse for it, it's an examination of motives.

Because technically, after everything Hob suffered in the 1600s, he could have emerged with more empathy for the plight of others. But clearly that didn't happen. From an entirely human motivation level, that leads me personally to the conclusion that since no one helped Hob when he was at his lowest (not even Dream, though I dearly wish it was otherwise and wrote extensively on what would have happened if he had) that led him to the belief, put simply, that fuck the world so long as he got his. Why should he care about anyone else if no one cared about him?

But to go back to the topic of this essay, RSD, there's an additional element to that theory on why and how Hob leaned into not giving a shit about others, and that missing factor from what's described above is the element of everyone is doing it. Specifically worded as, "It's just how it's done."

Another really fascinating lecture I listened to on ADHD talked about how the most common trauma reaction ADHDers have to their sense of rejection, shame, and guilt that comes the way our brains react to the world is by hiding. And that also got me thinking about 1789 Hob in this context.

Because Hob as we see him in 1589 is loud in his happiness. He's sitting there, bold as brass in the middle of the White Horse, showing off his wealth with a banquet, loudly declaiming about how he pretended to be his own son twice, worked in the Tudor shipyards (what would have been 50+ years before) and just how he spent the last 100 years working his way up to his knighthood. The man does not have an ounce of caution in him. But, he is also by far the happiest we ever see Hob (up until Dream ditches him in the middle of their date).

This is important because to my eyes, Hob is living openly and unashamed and with only the barest hint of caution typified by pretending to be his own son every couple decades. The way he describes his last 100 years sounds like an ADHD dream, basically getting a boat load of money from Caxton's printing press (basically the first tech startup unicorn of the modern era) and then running around wherever his interests took him where he also made money hand over fist, kept climbing, and eventually reached the point where he could purchase the acclaim and regard of a member of the (albeit minor) nobility. All of this after being born a peasant. That's just validation and money and prestige and getting to pursue your special interest and live as your authentic self all over the place. And I do mean authentic, Hob doesn't even seem particularly worried about talking openly in the White Horse about being 200+ years old, a strong case could be made that he's not that careful in his personal life either.

So anyway, Hob has this amazing century literally followed by the worst century imaginable, filled with the sort of horrors that can tear a man's soul asunder. Losing his family, his beloved wife in childbirth with their new baby, his adult son, his home, his money, everything he spent a century building. His title and name are gone too because of the nature of how he lost it with the accusation of witch craft, which also means he can't just fake being his own son again to get it all back because they're explicitly going to notice that this time.

And how did this all happen? Because Hob got noticed. He lived there 40 years, overconfident is his own words. Which is a wild thing to say about a bunch of witch hunters showing up at his door! He blames himself for being drowned as a witch. On the one hand, I imagine he has to think that way because otherwise he has to admit to the sheer brutal randomness of life, so in a way he's trying to take control of the narrative by blaming himself.

But it also smacks of ADHD again because ADHDers very commonly shift the blame onto themselves after years of their unique nervous system response making them a round peg in a square hole of wider society. We learn over and over that the mistakes we make are our fault, because of "laziness" or "apathy" which isn't apathy at all but deep agony over our inability to accomplish tasks in a neurotypical way without the support we need, but I digress. But it sure sounds like Hob may have been paralyzed by grief for literal decades and then blamed himself for not getting the mental spoons together in that context to move on and reinvent his life after losing his wife and child. Which would be a very ADHD thing to do.

So after this absolutely brutal smackdown by reality for living too openly, too loud, too ADHD, getting paralyzed by the powerful emotions he felt (if we follow the headcanon) over the grief and loss in his life, what is Hob's next step?

Hiding.

Blending in.

Not rocking the boat.

And again, not excusing it, there's plenty of other industries he could have gone into to blend in that didn't involve human trafficking. That said, if he went to sea, which we know Hob did on many occasions from the comic, it would be seen by his peers there at sea as a normal way to make one's fortune, and then.... well, we have as evidence that this is his current peer-group the sort-of pride with which Hob announces how he's making his fortune these days in the "shipping business", as if he's expecting Dream's approval.

That to me, reads a bit like the people pleaser/social chameleon aspect of ADHD. Hob is expecting to be praised for being successful by Dream the way he would likely be praised by his peers in the shipping business or among the wealthy privileged men of England. He's so steeped in that world now that he's clearly taken aback when Dream takes the (at the time more radical but not uncommon) stance of, "This is wrong."

And Hob knew it. But he was blending in. He was going along with how things are done. He wasn't rocking the boat. He has other hints at trauma responses too, "salting money around the world" in case there's political upheaval, for example. This is not the loud, boisterous Sir Robert Gadlen untouched by loss or trauma. He has been humbled and tempered and, indeed, made afraid by what happened to him.

This sort of wild swing towards protectiveness? Again, also ADHD. As the lecturer I linked first noted, ADHDers are textbook defenders. They are always defending themselves from the world that can suddenly, unexpectedly, plant a knife in their heart because of a perceived rejection. From a world that wants their brain to work in a way it doesn't, so they have to come up with myriad painful coping mechanisms to fit in, blend in, mask, and function. Hob was forced to protect himself after the 1600s, so he did, with money, and with not caring about other people, and with insulating himself from privilege, and becoming a social chameleon.

1589 Hob tries to earn back Dream's interest, but he doesn't fawn. Dream shows interest in Shaxberd and Hob, already starting to get irritated, tells him no, Shaxberd is crap.

And you can tell in 1789 that Hob is thinking about that day again when he gets Dream's disapproval, because who does he reference? That lad, Will Shaxberd. He's fearing rejection and abandonment again, or at least it's crossed his mind after Dream's admonishment. But this time, Hob is fawning more, very nearly flirting. He's trying to play the game better this time, trying to keep Dream's interest, social chameleoning the subject onto safer topics, things he thinks will interest Dream, as Shaxberd so clearly did, so let's talk about him if that's what you care about. Again, another ADHD social chameleon, people pleaser aspect. We are nervous empaths, we are constantly picking up a bazillion signals both real and imagined. And we're so fucking terrified of that RSD knife in the heart, we become people pleasers to avoid it. After the shipping business brag fell through, Hob pivots to talking about Dream and what, in his experience, Dream seems to like and talk about favorably.

So anyway, many many ADHD-esque rambling words later, there's a few more little details I'd add to the list of "possible ADHD behavior, not just the fun parts" for Hob Gadling. Is it canon? Maybe not. But it does make for a great headcanon, in my opinion.

#hob gadling #the sandman #sandman meta #adhd #omg this got so long lol that's perfect fits the subject huh

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peachyteabuck · 11 months ago

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sword & shield (fallon carrington x reader)

↪ summary: you have a meltdown. luckily, fallon knows just what to do

a commission for @devillskettle

↪ pairing: fallon carrington x reader

↪ words: 1,032

↪ trigger warnings: fluff, angst related to it being a meltdown, unspecified neurodiversity in reader

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

The inside of your chest feels like a balloon being filled with helium by a careless child. Everything—from the hairs sticking to your forehead, to your extra-dark sunglasses atop your head, to the itchy tag at the back of your shirt—everything grates on your nerves as though they were large blocks of cheese. Two tables behind you, a man is telling a woman off for taking too harsh a tone during a pitch meeting. A table in front of you, a couple is professing their love for each other after the woman’s pregnancy test came back positive last night. Your waiter has on cologne you think expired the same time Britney publicly shaved her head.

Next to your heart and your lungs you can feel the latex pressing on your vital organs; you can’t inhale enough, and you can feel your heart muscles fending off the flimsy material. Some of it seems to pass into your trachea, too, blocking any air from passing in or out.

You don’t say anything when you leave the restaurant, simply standing up as Fallon rambles on about someone at work who accused her of using her Daddy’s money to get by. It’s not that you don’t care that she cares about her reputation—but, more importantly, if you had to hear one more second of literally any noise, you were going to start screaming and flipping tables.

It’s not too hot outside, but not too cold, either. One of those end-of-summer days where the light jacket you’d refused to take off when you’d entered the restaurant would keep you perfectly content. Now you wish you’d brought the heavy blazer you’d tossed aside at the last second. You would’ve hated lugging it around, but at least you’d have something to hide under as the world shrunk around you.

It's easy to know that Fallon is the one coming to stand next to you. She’s got that confident air about her that you’ve envied since undergrad—that kind of energy that guys in your profession were born with; the kind you hated until you saw it dressed in a hot pink pantsuit with a matching Prada purse.

Fallon doesn’t bother to ask if you’re okay. She and the few strangers passing by know you’re not okay just by looking at you—hunched over, hands over your ears, eyes screwed shut. She also knows how easily touch can set you off in these moments, as if you had become trapped inside the belly of a territorial dog, ready to bite at the slightest move.

She doesn’t say anything, actually. Not to you, anyway. Your hands are only so-so at blocking noise, and you can hear her going they’re fine, don’t worry to the occasional concerned civilian troubled enough to ask your companion about you.

You can feel something in front of your face and open your eyes just a bit. It’s her phone, a message typed out in her notes app.

Leave or stay here? It says.

You lean your head to the left a bit.

Fallon takes it back. My place or yours?

Your head snaps left once more. Your roommate works from home and, while she’s sweet, if you have to listen to one of her horrible meetings you think you’ll explode.

You look down again and read the next line.

Let me pay for the food, grab our coats, and call the driver. Stay here.

You nod just a little, hands still over your ears. You knew you should keep a pair of earplugs in your pocket.

Fallon does just as she said she would (or, at least you hope so, given all you can verify is that she’s holding your coat and ushering you into the black Suburban. You like that restaurant, and the last thing you need is for them to put you on their “do not seat” list for nonpayment). The driver, who’s always been understanding of your needs, keeps the car silent as he takes you and Fallon down backroads and through the suburbs.

He doesn’t even say anything as he drops you and Fallon off at her expensive condo, giving her a nod in the rearview mirror that she returns equally silently.

You know lots of people don’t like Fallon, that much has been clear since you were paired for a project in one of your advanced marketing classes. But the parts of her everyone seems to dislike (or worse, actively hate) are all the things you admire most about her; her drive, her stubbornness, how she gets whatever she wants. When you first met, you’d spent your whole life denying yourself anything slightly out of the ordinary. You’d deny yourself anything your mother would’ve considered frivolous and followed every rule placed upon you.

It was horrible. You had felt trapped, walking into that marketing class. Every day an anvil would settle itself atop your chest, painfully crushing your ribs. Meeting Fallon was a true breath of fresh air. She helped you, in her own way, helping to stand up to professors with bones to pick and fellow students who tried to take advantage.

In that same strange, wonderful way, she guides you up the steps of her home, silently instructing you to lay on the couch. There, she piles fancy blankets on top of you (three, to be exact), from thickest to thinnest. She then grabs you a glass of water, cold, from her fridge dispenser.

“You want to watch something?” Fallon asks. You nod, just a little. “Blink once for something you’ve seen before, twice for something irrelevant to your interests.”

You blink once.

She follows your request without comment, sitting so that the side of her thigh presses into your head.

“Thank you,” you say after a while, voice small. For a moment, you’re not sure Fallon hears you. The thick blankets surely muffle your voice, the sound barely audible as the sounds of some television show you’ve seen a thousand times play on her flatscreen television.

Fallon’s hand, once dropped over your shoulder, comes down to cup your face. The position is awkward, but that doesn’t stop her thumb rubs over your heated cheek. “Anytime.”

#fallon carrington x reader #fallon carrington #fallon carrington fanfic #fallon carrington/reader #lukis writes stuff #lukis does commissions #id apologize for not writing for so long but ill be honest.#it is a miracle i am alive

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weeb-polls-with-pip · 1 year ago

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Autistic Anime Boys Side B Round 1 Match 11

Propaganda:

Mikey -

"This is a headcanon that didn’t originally occur to me, but then I encountered it in the wild, and something in my brain kinda lit up like ‘!!!’. I couldn’t stop turning the idea over in my head, like a slow roasting marshmallow, getting dangerously close to an open flame. So, here we are. First of all, Mikey is the leader of a biker gang. He has an immense interest in motorcycles (including their parts and repairing/building them), something of which he is able to bond with other delinquents over. He is frequently commented on by others as showcasing ‘childish’ behavior, such as whining when he doesn’t get his way, taking naps on his vice-commander, Draken’s, back or getting upset when he receives a kid’s meal with no flag in it. He often relies on Draken in a caretaker sort of role, such as providing the aforementioned flags to avoid meltdowns, tying his hair up just the right way in the mornings, going to his house to wake him up (all these things appear frequent activities/rituals Mikey relies on), and being “his heart.” Mikey appears to have naturally low empathy. Pretty early on in the series, he and Draken pay a visit to a girl who was put in the hospital by a rival gang, for being affiliated with some of their members. Her parents encounter them and they are furious that anyone involved in gang activity would even dare show their faces, despite Mikey and Draken not being the ones to actually hurt her. He insists they shouldn't apologize to the parents, because it's not their fault and they personally didn't do anything, failing to comprehend the bigger picture, that the lifestyle of delinquency and crime in general and the violence it breeds, not just between those who partake, but innocents caught in the crossfire, is what led to their daughter's assault. And they are feeling grief and anger, thus acting irrationally and lashing out (which, while illogical to Mikey, is a typical emotional reaction to this sort of situation). But he eventually amends his opinion at Draken’s urging—reserving emotional consideration for when his friends are involved primarily. Difficulty regulating emotions, selective listening, and self-centeredness are also all traits that Mikey has exhibited. He often has atypical/repressed facial expressions. He has safe foods—preferring sweet things like dorayaki and taiyaki above all else. He has a comfort item in the form of an old, raggedy towel, which is, in his words “his whole life,” and refuses to give it up even when his family urges him to throw it out. “The tip of his towel” is canonically his “favorite spot”—He is seen stimming with it by rolling it up and kneading it with his hands and fingers. He also prefers to dress for comfort, in loose and baggy clothes whenever he is outside of his gang uniform, and he always wears the same flip-flops, even when it would seem inconvenient. Some other things that don’t necessarily point to autism, but maybe could be considered in the broader picture with everything else?

Routine night motorcycle rides with his brother and childhood friend, which he continues, same time and route, after their deaths, while talking like they are still there with him (though this is more him just honoring their memories and finding comfort in these old actions)

‘Dark impulse’ flare-ups could be interpreted as meltdowns that cross into violent territory? (Like after Sanzu allegedly broke his new toy as a child) But again, dark impulses are a whole other can of worms that could probably be likened to other things better than autism

He is canonically considered a martial arts genius/prodigy, which could be read as some sort of savantism, but also just typical shounen anime shenanigans Despite some of the shakier things to consider, I find myself really liking the idea of autistic Mikey, and I do think there’s a lot in the story in favor of that reading of him. I’d love to see him represented here!"

Yotasuke -

"He has terrible social skills and doesn't filter his words, and although he does not have bad intentions, he often comes off extremely cold or harsh, saying things like "Talking with you irritates me so can you please leave me alone?". He struggles to make friends, especially since he purposefully pushes people away. Yatora, the main character, brings the number of contacts on his phone to a grand total of three. His wardrobe consists of almost exactly the same shirt over and over again. He holds his pencil and chopsticks extremely weird. He loves animals and is often pictured with them, for example cats and rabbits. He was considered extremely talented at art when he was a child, and his art is still amazing but it has messed up the way he interacts with others. He feels as though art is all he has. This causes him to resent Yatora, who appears to have so many skills and career options, as well as a thriving social life. Yotasuke also has a very strained relationship with his mother, who can be quite manipulative at times. He is also very silly if that means anything to you. Everyone should go read Blue Period actually."

#tumblr polls #autistic anime boys poll #tokyo revengers #tokrev #tr #mikey #tokyo revengers mikey #mikey tokyo revengers #manjirou sano #sano manjirou #manjiro sano #sano manjiro #tokrev mikey #mikey tokrev #blue period #yotasuke takahashi #takahashi yotasuke #blue period yotasuke #yotasuke blue period

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perplexingluciddreams · 5 months ago

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with all the things in the house getting moved and tidied and put in boxes, i get anxious about my things getting taken away. or binned without anyone asking me. and that i won't get a say in what happens with My Things.

(i know that won't logically actually happen, but i still need lots of reassurance from parents that it won't happen like that).

i think part of it is object permanence. if things move or get put away where i can't see them anymore (or don't know their exact location by heart anymore), it is like it stops existing.

some of it is probably just my usual anxiety about lack of/inadequate communication and not being able to tell people what i want/don't want to happen. and that is a realistic fear/worry.

i have real experiences throughout my life of this - where i can't tell someone that i want to keep something instead of throw away/give away, and then i have a meltdown about losing it.

also have experiences of abuser and other people deliberately damaging/breaking/ruining my things (to the point where they have to be thrown away) just to upset me. because my reaction is "funny". so i get scared and defensive and aggressive at anyone who touches or moves or goes too near anything that belongs to me. in case they damage it or ruin it on purpose just to laugh at me and hurt me. (also very territorial about my bedroom for the same reasons).

or even those same people just finding things that belong to me that are important to me and then mocking me for liking it and using it to try humiliate me. this is so much worse when it is related to a special interest - the most important things to me, that help me make some tiny sense of the world.

a lot of things happening right now are very scary to me. and lots of difficult memories. and my head hurts and tummy feels bad ☹️

#words from my head #from the chaos of my mind #abuse

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beannary · 1 year ago

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Hi! Thank you for blessing us all with tlp :) it’s such a cool au and I like it a lot!! I have many thoughts about it so I’ll start writing them now:

With Donnie being raised by Big Mama, the change in dynamics with literally everyone is interesting to think about, so of course my brain has latched onto the concept of how Donnie’s dynamic with his own brain (his neurodiversity/autism) effects his relationships with himself and his family.

(beannary note: putting everything under the cut so this doesn’t get too long)

Comparing Donnie’s relationship with his own neurodiversity in tlp to canon makes me so emotional you have no idea…..in canon he’s never had a need to mask, living in the sewers with a family who accepts him for who he is, so he has difficulties doing so when needed; we’ve seen him in situations where he is unable to mask/act “socially appropriate” (the mystic library episode comes to mind - he can’t control the volume of his voice when he gets excited. Also every single time he is put in a situation where he has to lie but he is comically bad at it. Also the many many instances in which he is shown being unable to ‘read the room’). But in tlp he seems to be masking a lot, either when he’s interacting with Big Mama’s guests or with Big Mama herself (your Masking is Hard comic comes to mind instantly - how Donnie has a hyperspecific role to play as Big Mama’s Son and the pressure to not only be sociable, but be sociable in a way that meets his mother’s expectations. Its a lot to handle, acting a way that doesn’t come naturally to you and no matter how many times you go through the motions you feel as if it doesn’t get any easier and you dont know why). Tlp Donnie can mask far more convincingly than canon Donnie, but only because he’s had to mask frequently throughout his life. It seems to me like he’s been taught at a young age that he needs to stop acting so “weird” (for example, stimming in obvious ways), because that kind of behavior loses its cuteness fast with Big Mama & most of the company she associates with. I imagine lots of his behaviors are discouraged as he grows up because they’re “not cute anymore” and he’s “not a little kid anymore” and he “needs to learn some manners/self-control” even though everything “weird” Donnie does feels like so natural to him, even as he gets older. Although I do think Donnie has instinctively coped with this by making his stims more subtle (this is where I get to be self-indulgent and imagine his stims - humming, tapping his feet, fiddling with any object he can get his hands on, blasting EDM in his headphones etc), and he only pulls out the big guns (aka big stims) when he’s in his own room with the door closed (or when he’s locked himself in a bathroom stall and physically cannot hold himself back anymore).

Unfortunately for Donnie I also figure that this amount of masking makes him more susceptible to meltdowns. In canon Donnie has so much freedom and control over his own life that the only time I can remember him being even mildly close to Meltdown Territory is during the Todd Scouts episode when his tech was taken away. And even then, he immediately knows how to cope with the change by Creating with whatever tools he is able to find, his brothers just accepting his absence as he goes MIA to build the things he needs to make himself feel better (like the wooden battle shell). But in tlp au does he even know how to cope in healthy ways? Does he get to go MIA for long periods of time so he can pull himself together and prevent a meltdown from happening? Oouuggghh I just want him to be happy :( poor guy feels as if he has no control over his life to the point he develops an eating disorder, he absolutely has no idea what a healthy coping skill is. I’m torn in between concepts for how he processes his neurological differences - either he goes the “autism? don’t be ridiculous, everyone feels this way” route or the “I am astronomically Different from anyone else I know. surely this is just due to my superior intellect and not a developmental disability of any sorts”. Either way this dude is not connecting any dots nor processing any emotions in a healthy way. (Now that I think about it, while Donnie lives with Big Mama, his unique and different skillset are probably what he clings onto to feel needed and useful to his mother, so the latter makes sense for him during that time. But the former makes sense when the concept of Different scares him, when it’s not just intellect and fixations and tunnel vision but sensory issues and social awkwardness and repetitve movements, things that very clearly separate him from his family and make him less of the Perfect Son he is expected to be.)

Another thing I’d like to ramble about is Donnie, his autism, and his relationship with his brothers and his dad….you mentioned in an ask that he doesn’t know he’s autistic but that may change when he starts living with the Hamatos. This made me think about how Donnie’s brothers react to his autistic traits in canon versus in tlp (assuming that no one knows that Donnie is autistic; they just know that his brain works Differently than the rest of theirs). In canon, Donnie has lived with his brothers for his entire life. His brothers know his habits, his preferences, his sensitivities, his moods, etc. He may be Different than the rest of them, but not so much that they think about it for more than 5 minutes. Donnie is their brother - any “weird” behavior is not too different from how how he usually acts. Donnie may be weird but they all are in their own ways and it’s not a big deal to them. His brothers are used to accommodating his needs and dealing with his moods. However, in tlp, Raph, Mikey, and Leo don’t know him very well yet. They’ve never lived with him before and when they do accept Donnie into their home as an Official Brother (a development I’m very excited for), they also can’t help but immediately recognize the stuff that makes him Different from the rest of them (if they’re the ones that recognize that it could be autism, than it’s Differences in a way that’s Familiar, if that makes sense). Differences that aren’t just unhealthy habits and mindsets from his previous shitty living situation. Obviously they can be accommodating but it would understandably take longer to adjust simply because they’re not used to Donnie’s specific quirks. They don’t know right away what makes him uncomfortable, or what textures he prefers, or why he moves and talks and acts the way he does. It’s a learning experience for everyone.

As for Donnie and Splinter….they make me so emotional!!!! Your art of the two of them is so so good and captures that emotion. When Donnie lives with the Hamatos, everything changes. Anyone would have difficulties adjusting to this huge change, but I imagine for Donnie it’s a lot harder. How do you cope with leaving your mother, your only family member you’ve known your entire life? And now suddenly he has to stop being His Mother’s Son and become His Father’s Son, another role he has to create and adjust to (he doesn’t realize yet that his father doesn’t need Donnie to try to be someone he’s not - he loves Donnie unconditionally, just the way he is ;-;) because having a role to play is familiar to him, the only familiar thing he can cling onto during these huge changes in his life. Unfortunately though it just makes everything more exhausting, not only coping with the move into a literal sewer but trying to act like a perfect son for Splinter. Donnie doesn’t know yet that he doesn’t have to mask in front of a parent or meet impossible expectations to “earn” parental love and approval. Meanwhile Splinter sees how Donnie acts with his brothers (much more casual because Donnie doesn’t feel as if he has to “impress” his brothers the way he has to with a parental figure) versus how Donnie acts with him and thinks he’s doing something wrong, that he’s the one giving off an impression to his new son that he has to suppress his stims or say the “right” things or do stuff that makes him uncomfortable because he thinks it’ll make his parent happy…..but I have faith that this pressure eases with time, that they get more comfortable around each other the longer they live together. Eventually Donnie won’t be hesitant or embarrassed to take off the mask in front of his father. Maybe one day he’ll get rid of the mask around his family entirely!! Either way I’m excited to see tlp Donnie’s journey :) thanks for sharing your au with us!

HI THIS IS BEANNARY SPEAKING NOW wow this was so much and im sooooo glad that you are enjoying this au! And for real its so flattering that you like?? wrote all this about my silly au this has actually been the only thing that I could think about since you asked if you could send this in and yeah it’s just really nice to see that people like my comic and this little separated au that i dreamed up

One of the big differences between canon donnie and tlp donnie is tlp donnie’s ability to mask really well. When he was a kid, a lot of his stims were cute and adorable so Big Mama didn’t like encourage them? but let him you know stim freely since she thought it was cute, but as he got older and he kept on stimming in obvious ways she started really hounding him to stop. I do really like the idea of donnie starting to stim in more subtle ways, and im definitely going to try to incorporate that in some of the comics! He still needs to stim, because you know of the autism, and so he does tap his feet and play with whatever little object he can get in his hands when he’s in public. His room is his one safe space where he can really be himself, since its the one spot where he’s not being watched by anyone (his safe space isn’t his lab because what he does in his lab is highly controlled by Big Mama so while he does like being in there and getting to do his science, he’s still pretty on edge since he never knows if his mom is watching him or not). Donnie really loves spending time in his room, though he doesn’t really get a whole lot of time there by himself since Big Mama has filled his schedule with as many extra curriculars as possible so she can show him off all the time). But speaking of his room it sure would be bad if something happened to it! Sure would be bad if it was destroyed in some way thereby destroying his one safe space! Haha! ;)

And no! Donnie does not know how to cope in healthy ways! He is very good at figuring out when he is about to have a meltdown and at figuring out a way to subtly get out of a situation so he can go recuperate somewhere in private, but even then, he can never spend a whole lot of time to himself because if he ever disappeared for an abnormally long amount of time, it would draw attention to himself and more specifically to these meltdowns that he’s having and he really wants those to stay off of Big Mama’s radar since if she knows about them then that’s one more thing for her to criticize and then it’ll be even harder for him to deal with them with his mom now being aware of them. And yeah he does know about autism but he’s still like no it simply could not be me but in that way where he’s like 99% sure he’s autistic but is just refusing to acknowledge it so he can keep on pretending to be ‘normal’. if that makes sense alksdjfh

Living with the Hamatos is going to be very hectic and scary for Donnie just because of how different their home is from his current home. In tlp, Raph also is autistic im pretty sure idk I might change that as the comic progresses but at this point that is what im going with but just havent had a whole lot of time to develop, but that’s part of the reason why the hamatos are so accepting of Donnie, its because they’re already used to living with a sibling who is autistic so all of this is second nature to them, it’s just normal and that really throws donnie for a loop because he’s so used to walking on all these eggshells making sure to act as allistic as possible 24/7 only to be suddenly dumped into an environment where its completely normal and accepted for him to just be himself. And sure it’ll be a learning curve for the hamatos because like obviously not all autistic people are the same but it’ll also be a learning curve for donnie since he’ll finally be able to relax and figure out who he is without having to hide himself all the time.

Donnie and splinter’s relationship is what im really the most excited to write about. I really want Donnie’s experience leaving Big Mama to mirror Splinter’s experience. And I really don’t want to spoil too much but Donnie is really not gonna like Splinter much at first, and it’s gonna take a while for Donnie to warm up to his dad, but also Splinter is going to be the most understanding of what Donnie is going through because well, Splinter also left an abusive relationship with Big Mama. I dont really want to say much more about their relationship because I dont want to spoil the good angst I have planned but I’m really excited to explore their relationship more!!!!

Also just for the record I have not like proofread any of this so there may be typos or maybe i said something dumb so just lmk and ill fix it aklsdjhf Im not autistic (or am I! I havent been to therapy in a while and I would not be surprised to find out that I am autistic or that I have adhd or something else) so lmk if i said something stupid or phrased something in a dumb way and I cannot emphasize how fast I will fix it

Ok bye now!!! this was fun!!! and thank you for sending this in!!! Idk it just really warms my heart that someone out there is thinking about this silly au this much, makes it feel like all the work ive put into making this comic is worth it :)

#bean babbles #i guess this isnt an answered ask #answered asks #still gonna tag it as such though #tlp au #the little prince separated au #i might have more to say about this later but i think this is everything i have to say rn #i should really just ramble about tlp donnie more often because this was fun.

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raineandsky · 1 year ago

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#41

It was a dark and stormy night—and as cliche as that was, it really was. Rain lashed the windows like it was trying to break in. The sun was long gone, leaving the world to fend for itself against the onslaught of bad weather.

The villain had stayed back late in the hopes of waiting out the storm but they’d made that decision four hours ago and the rain had yet to let up, so with an irritable huff they threw their coat over their shoulders and prepared for the pits of wet hell that awaited outside.

What awaited, they found as they threw the door open, was much worse than that. The wet pits of hell were also out to get them, it seemed.

“Good evening, [Villain],” the superhero opened casually.

The door was already halfway to shutting on his first syllable, and it had slammed in his face with a resounding clang as he finished. He knocked, oddly polite, and got much less politely ignored by the villain, who was preoccupied with having a meltdown on the other side.

“I’m not here to fight,” he called through the thick metal separating them. “Believe me, I wouldn’t have come to the front door if I was.”

“It’s a secret lair; there aren’t any front doors,” the villain found themself spitting back, and the superhero laughed from the other side, unbothered.

“Just open the door, [Villain]. The rain’s cold.”

“You should’ve thought of that before you came somewhere that would never let you in.” The villain opened the door anyway, just a crack. The superhero really did look sodden, now that they were actually looking at him. Did he walk here?

The superhero put a hand against the door like he was simply leaning against it, but after a moment of a tedious stare-down the villain realised the door was slowly opening, pushing them back with it.

“What the h–” is all they got out before there was enough space for the superhero to squeeze through the gap, and the moment his hand left the door it slammed shut. What an obnoxious show of strength. Like hell he’s not here to fight.

“It’s about [Hero],” he opened quickly when he noticed the villain’s unease, their hand drifting to the inside of their coat. “They’ve been distracted recently.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” the villain snapped coldly. “Nice to know I can whoop their ass efficiently. You can leave now.”

The superhero pointedly ignored that, instead choosing to inspect the half-finished gadgets on a nearby table. “It’s been going on for a while. I could never figure out what it was, and they refused to tell me, but…” He paused like he’s changed his mind before nobly powering through, “heroes keep journals. Helps control the emotions that inevitably come with the job, you know?”

“And they’ve been writing their name with someone else’s in a little heart, right?” The villain snorted humouredly, but the awkward silence that followed made them think their joke was too on the nose. “Oh my god, do they actually? Like a teenager?”

“It’s not quite like that, no.” Awh, the superhero was so quick to defend his little underling. Sweet. “There’s someone who keeps coming up in their entries, though, and it seems to be one of the only positive things [Hero]’s got right now.”

“Yeah, working in the agency is depressing,” the villain said with a sage nod, as if they’d know that. “So what? Are you expecting me to go kill someone so you can save face and get your special little guy back to work?”

“No, I just… ugh!” The superhero turned to kick something over, before remembering he was in the villain’s territory. “No, no killing anyone. I need you to talk to them.”

The villain raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “… Talk to them.”

The superhero sucked in a deep breath, on the verge of frustration. “Okay, listen. They’ve been writing about you. A lot. Constantly. They write about your fights like you both went for a nice walk in the park. They’re obsessed with you, [Villain]. I need you to put them right so they can concentrate on what matters.”

The monologue was met with silence for a moment, and the villain’s gaze locked to a stubborn stain on the floor that never quite came out. “You said it was one of the only good things they have.”

“I know it seems unbelievable, but they’ve really taken to you. I don’t think–”

“You’d want to take that away from them?”

The superhero went a little quiet at that, clearly realising how terrible his phrasing was. “No, no, you misunderstood–”

“Did I? Please, explain what you mean.”

“We– they’re distracted. We just want you to correct them before they become unusable for hero work.”

“And potentially break their heart? Rip everything away from them?”

The superhero frowned, confused. “I thought you’d be more up to making everything worse, given your track record.”

“I thought you’d be more up to caring about people, given yours.” The villain stepped daringly closer. “I’ll strike a deal with you [Superhero]. I’ll let them know what the deal is–”

“Oh, thank you, you’re–”

“And I’m going to tell them I’m in love with them.”

The superhero somehow d9id a double take despite looking the villain in the eye. “You what?”

The villain only grinned. “You were right, I am up to making things worse. Now get out of my lair before I make your life even more miserable than it’s about to be.”

The superhero disappeared into the storm with a jovial goodbye to set them off. Somewhere deep down, the villain knew they shouldn’t, but they never really liked the hero that much, much less their arrogant boss. Cruelty was in their nature, anyway. It’d be worth it just to see the superhero crumble without his dear hero.

#writing #creative writing #writers on tumblr #writing community #writblr #heroes and villains #hero x villain #only reason this is in past tense is cause i wanted to use the dark and stormy night line lmao #because above all else i am petty and if someone tells me not to describe the weather by GOD you gonna hear how much it was raining #if you saw the spelling mistake in this shut the hell your mouth

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milksteaki · 1 year ago

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*rattles a cup w like 2 coins in it* spare Boomercup hcs for the deprived??? Individual or as a ship work if you have it <33

Okay lowkey ironic that I was like "omg ask me stuff!!" and then just fucked off for a bit but I blame executive dysfunction. Anyways! Here's some headcanons of my second favorite couple that sometimes rivals my first favorite, hehe.

Gonna start off with individual peeps first:

So I actually headcanon her as the youngest due to the order of their names. Y'know like Huey, Dewey, and Louie are also the same as their age order: from oldest to youngest. And Buttercup is at the end too. So she's the youngest to me, but she treats Bubbles the youngest because of Bubbles' interests and for how sensitive she is. Also about the names, Buttercup feels like an afterthought sometimes and that stems from when the Professor just named her Buttercup because it also starts with a B. Bubbles gets a lot of attention because she's so bubbly and extroverted and constantly putting herself out there. Blossom gets a lot of attention and praise because of her achievements and is constantly going above and beyond. Buttercup has this insecurity that she never will stick out compared to her sisters and that makes her highly individualistic. This aspect of her personality makes it so that when people reduce her to just "a girl", it makes her want to metaphorically rip this label off of her and tear it to shreds. She is constantly trying to prove that she is more, that she is not "just a girl" but someone who happens to be a girl." This can teeter into "not like other girls" territory, but I think there is a nuance to be explored for a story where she never intended to hurt other girls but still has to unpack her underlying misogyny but also remains the same in her gender expression (as in stay more masc than fem). Additionally, she very much wants things of her own. Like her friend group, that's hers and only hers. Her style is hers. Her space is hers. She is a little possessive and territorial and she will fight to protect these things. That money episode that everyone hates is actually why I headcanon her as a young part-time barista at an obnoxious chain cafe just so she can make her own money the right way. (Also constantly pushes her to the limit)

I see Buttercup as having a very close and intimate relationship with music. Music helps her relax when a meltdown nears. It also gives an outlet for her anger, her hurt, and her sensitivity. She uses music to shut out the world first, then uses it to connect to others when words fail her (and they fail often) This is why I ended up envisioning her as a rockstar when she grows up. Every other career option felt too tame for her and I wasn't going to go with police officer for political reasons. This career option gives her a healthy outlet for her anger and temper (which often push people away) and also lets her keep her edge. See Buttercup might be a little bit more obsessed with her image than her sisters because she would HATE for anyone to see her as soft. She NEEDS to keep her edge. She somewhat romanticizes the gritty, grim, and grunge things in life because it is so much more authentic than other things. That's another thing she values: authenticity. She hates sugar-coated bullshit and would rather embrace the cold brutal truth, but she often mistakes brutality as always truthful and kindness as fake.

While things often and very quickly trigger Buttercup's temper, Boomer sort of lacks a temper. His desire for destruction comes from how he finds enjoyment in malice. See he loves mean-spirited jokes, but it can still get to you when you are almost always the punching bag of the group. But also, Boomer is sort of the best person to be the punching bag of the group. He does stupid things very often, he barely holds grudges, and it is very hard to get things to bother Boomer. He just doesn't give a fuck about anything, or anyone. He rarely ever thinks anything through, and things often bite him in the ass because of that. He's a chill guy, but people often mistake that with him being a good guy. But Boomer has no interest in being a good guy, but honestly, he barely has an interest in doing much at all. I see sloth consuming Boomer, often sleeping until 2:00 pm and even after that he will still take naps. Executive function has a greater grip on Boomer than it does on me frankly. I also see him as more individualistic than his brothers. Brick has the strongest personality of course, but a lot of his identity is still connected to the Rowdyruff Boys. That is not the case for Boomer. Boomer speaks up against Brick the most because again Boomer doesn't exactly think before he speaks and also doesn't give a single fuck. He spots Brick's mistakes and will either point them out in a question or just straight make fun of Brick. This in turn makes Brick pick on Boomer more and also become closer to Butch (who sees more eye to eye with Brick). Boomer feels that and ends up doing things by himself more often. He needs alone time often, taking walks and wreaking havoc along the way. Out of his family, he ends up growing up and moving on the fastest, moving out at fifteen to figure out life on his own.

Boomer also has a very close relationship to music. You rarely find him without his headphones (which reminds me... why do I never draw him with them...) Music stimulates him, and everyday life is so boring. I like to think he first gets into music for comedic songs, like the Lonely Island or Bo Burnham. (So yes he loves musicals, but he would hate for you to find out) Then he finds his real love for rock music, the more underground the better. Music has been his friend when he had none, and he has a true talent for rhythm and beats. I see him more as a drums guy, no thoughts just ba tsss. It's one of a few things he feels passionately about. Second only to his love for pissing people off, and god does he get a kick out of it. That's what makes people hate him. And he's not exactly the type to apologize or stop pissing bitches off. He'll keep going, maybe keep it up for days or months. Truly, Boomer is a little shit, constantly wearing a shit-eating grin.

Buttercup, at first sees Boomer as an idiot. Then she sees him as a fake "pretty boy" who gets things easily handed to him because he's blonde, a boy, and is very pretty. She is not attracted to him at all because he wasn't exactly her type. To her, he lacked grit and edge, and frankly she just doesn't like blondes. The same could not be said about Boomer. She was totally his type: has a pulse and could kick his ass. In a way Boomercup starts with a comedic premise, Boomer is too stupid to see his impending doom when he tests Buttercup's patience by flirting with her. But then I think we would find out that Boomer wasn't being stupid, he wasn't scared because he does genuinely like her. She's pretty, smart, funny, and on top of all that she's a fucking badass. He loves how edgy she is and he sees 0 issue in pursuing her (part of it is because of his lack of attachment to the whole Rowdyruff Boy thing). Boomer gets on Buttercup's nerves constantly, but they soon find they have quite a bit in common. Skateboarding, rock music, and the same food orders are just a small list of what they have in common. And when I say they bond with music, I mean they really bond with music. Boomer likes classic rock to hardcore rock. Buttercup likes heavy metal music to grunge rock music, but of course, she appreciates the iconic classics. They especially bond over indie music, becoming concert buddies and buying band merch for each other as gifts. However, before any of this can happen, Buttercup establishes that he needs to stop messing with her, and she refuses to believe that Boomer genuinely romantically likes her. And as Boomer starts to get to know her more and starts to care about her, he agrees. He tries to let go of his crush to become her friend instead. Their normal fighting turns into light playfighting, as Boomer still gets on her nerves but in a friendlier way. As Buttercup spends more time with him, she starts to develop feelings for him. She starts to see him as a pretty cool guy. So weird right? Just a minute ago she saw him as an idiot. And when she starts to like him, she starts playfully hit him more, laughs harder at his jokes, and especially spends more and more of her time with him. Yet Boomer is completely oblivious because not once is she directly stating her interest in him. If anything, her words sound like she has no interest in him, as she sort of teases him more. But for Buttercup, that is flirting. Complimenting people...being affectionate before dating... These make her quite uncomfortable. So she insults and fights him instead, and Boomer finds it hilarious. It's different when Buttercup does it because Boomer can at least tell that she values him and sees him as an equal (unlike Brick).

As a couple, they end up becoming the most well-adjusted couple. Buttercup pushes Boomer to be more ambitious with how hard she works to achieve her goals. Boomer actually gives Buttercup more patience, because she is so much happier with him that all the things that used to make her angry seem so small and pointless. And seeing how little things bother him, inspires her to get to that level of unbothered. They are most people's favorite couple to be around because they rarely fight, they don't do PDA, and they are just really fun to be around. They are a very chill couple and they appreciate each other's honesty. Besides Buttercup's romantic feelings, Boomer appreciates how much he doesn't have to guess with her. And Boomer keeps it real with Buttercup. They play video games together, and when Buttercup doesn't have a show then they sleep in or at least have a very lazy day. Boomer will help her out sometimes if she needs drums, but knows Buttercup would shine brighter if he wasn't in the band. Anyways I'm sleepy. Gonna eat breakfast and then nap lol.

#steaki speaks #ppg #boomercup #more tags to come

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m-for-musings · 3 months ago

Text

WIP WATHEVER

(got my Wednesday all tangled up at work so I'm posting on Thursday fuck it)

Things are getting wild for the Baldur's Gate Kindred. Astarion, Wyll, Gale and Shadowheart just staked Minthara at her haven's parking lot after dealing with her Ghouls. But now, what to do with a staked Lasombra?

(Yes, I'm still working on a Baldur's Gate x Vampire The Masquerade crossover lol — excerpt below cut)

Minthara lay on the cold concrete floor, her body motionless, eyes wide open in frozen fury. The wooden stake protruding from her chest was grotesque, and Astarion couldn’t help but smirk as he nudged it with his foot. "Well, this escalated quickly," he said with mock innocence, glancing at the others.

Gale, however, was not taking it so lightly. His hands were shaking as he paced back and forth, running them through his already disheveled hair. "Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods," he muttered, wide-eyed and on the verge of a meltdown. "We just staked a Primogen. Not just any Primogen — a Lasombra Primogen! Do you understand the gravity of this? Allow me to paint you a vivid picture of exactly how this could lead to our demise. No, scratch that—our final demise. The kind where there’s no coming back. We’re as good as dead. Final death, do you hear me? This is how it ends for us. All of us. Gone. Staked, burned, left to see the dawn, dust in the wind! It’s over!"

"Calm down, Gale," Wyll said, trying and failing to sound confident. His posture was stiff, and he kept glancing at the elevator door as if expecting Mizora to burst out of it at any moment — even though she wouldn't quite have a reason to be there. "Panicking won't help us now."

"Won’t help? Won’t help? Wyll, if the other Primogen— if your sire finds out, she is going to murder us in our sleep!" Gale gestured frantically at Minthara’s paralyzed body. "We invaded a Primogen's have and staked her! How are you so calm right now?!"

"I’m not calm," Wyll shot back, his jaw tight. "I’m terrified. But we need to think this through before we make it worse."

Astarion let out a short, amused laugh. "Worse? I think we've already passed ‘worse,’ darling. We’re in ‘catastrophic’ territory." He crouched down next to Minthara and poked her cheek, delighting in her helplessness. "Still... I must admit, it’s nice to see her without all that arrogance for once. I could get used to this."

Shadowheart, leaning casually against the wall, rolled her eyes. "Alright, fun’s over. We need to figure out what to do with her before someone stumbles in."

"What if someone finds her?" Gale asked, pure panic etched on his face. It was unclear if the question was meant to the others or to himself.

Shadowheart shrugged, unfazed. "Better for us that she be found staked than dead. If they find her dead, then we’d have real problems."

Astarion raised an eyebrow. "I’m with Shadowheart on this. The work is done, can't we just leave her here? Let the Gangrel handle her."

Wyll shot him a look. "Too risky. We can’t just leave her here. What do you think will happen if someone finds her first and she’s un-staked?"

Astarion’s smirk widened. "Oh, that’s obvious. She’ll come for us, rip our hearts out one by one, and feast on them while we scream for mercy." He gave Wyll a playful nudge. "You first, naturally."

Gale paled, as if he hadn't put up the Blush of Life at all. "Oh gods."

"Focus," Wyll snapped, his frustration finally showing. "We need to move her somewhere. Somewhere discreet."

"I know a place," Shadowheart chimed in. Her voice was cool, almost detached. "It's off-limits, secluded, and nothing ties us to it. No one goes there. We can hide her until we figure out what to do."

[...]

Astarion tilted his head. "And if she’s found there?"

Shadowheart shrugged again. "So she’s found staked. Big deal. It’s not like we’re leaving a pile of ash or a corpse to rot. As I said, nothing ties us to that place."

"She ties us to that place!" Gale practically shouted, his voice rising in pitch. "Don’t you get it? The moment she’s free, she’s going to tell everyone! It’ll be the talk of the entire city. And then we’ll have a Blood Hunt on our heads! Do you know what that means? Every Kindred in this city will be after us, clawing for our throats! There’ll be nowhere to hide, no safe haven! We’ll be hunted like animals!"

"She’s probably too proud to admit four neonates bested a Primogen in her own haven." Shadowheart said, though there was the slightest hint of doubt in her voice. "Even if she does talk, the Lasombra may be part of the Camarilla now, but they’re still persona non grata. Her clan may hold a seat among the Primogen, but the title is mere nominal, just like the Banu Haqim. She’ll be left to handle it on her own, just like she was left now. But if we leave a body? Then we’re looking at a full-blown investigation. The Camarilla will be all over us for breaking their precious Traditions." She pointed at the stake in Minthara’s chest. "This? This buys us time. And if it comes to it, we can always blame the Gangrel."

A moment of tense silence followed as everyone considered the options. Gale looked like he was going to pass out, but he managed to nod. "I-I guess that makes sense. But... how do we even move her there without raising suspicion?"

[...]

"Right." Wyll sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Let's get this done already. Shadowheart, get the car in here. We’ll drag her. Astarion, grab her feet. I'll take her arms. Gale... just try not to hyperventilate."

Astarion shot Wyll a sly grin. "Oh, look at you, taking charge. How very heroic. Almost makes me want to listen."

Shadowheart groaned, turning to run upstairs. "Just shut up and grab her, Astarion."

Astarion let out a dramatic sigh but did as instructed. "You know, Wyll, I can’t help but feel this is all your fault. If you hadn’t insisted on—"

"My fault?!" Wyll shot him a sharp glare. "How exactly is this my fault? If I recall, you were the one who snuck up behind her and shoved the stake through her heart!"

Astarion’s grin returned. "Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you’re the one who started this whole mess by offering to help that bunch of savages—"

"Guys," Gale interrupted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I think I’m going to be sick."

Astarion just laughed, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, Gale. Welcome to the real world of Kindred politics. Isn’t it fun?"

#yes the Gangrel are Halsin Kagha a d the other druids lol #they're so dumb omg I love the tadfools #I'm having a blast writing this shit I swear #true vtm play experience: we did shit and now we don't know how to deal with it #bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #minthara baenre #wyll ravengard #astarion ancunin #shadowheart hallowleaf #gale dekarios #baldur's masquerade #baldur's gate x vampire the masquerade #bg3 x vtm #wip #fanfic writing #bg3 vtm au #queue #queued post

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