#because they’re so different but so similar

[demigod-shenanigans]

Oh Thalia for sure is absolutely miserable about the whole thing. She’s pulled right back to when Annabeth went missing in Titan’s Curse. This is the second time she hasn’t been able to protect her, except this time there isn’t even a quest or a mission she’s supposed to be involved in that hints at where she might be. She’s just gone. Vanished overnight without a trace. And then finding out Jason might be alive? (And it’s always might be in her head, she doesn’t really allow herself to hope) Yeah, she’s having a Time about it all

Ooof, yeah, Percy would probably react poorly to the way Reyna is taking charge at camp—which is obviously just what she’s used to having to do, but she also handles a few things very similarly to how Annabeth would have, and he does not like it. Her being similar to Annabeth is probably actively a comfort to the campers who usually looked to Annabeth for guidance, and that’s super upsetting to him because it’s not the same!

I’m also very amused by the thought of Piper and Leo kind of beefing with Percy for a while because they’re annoyed he’s trying to start shit with Reyna when she hasn’t done anything wrong. Reyna herself doesn’t even mind that much because she also has a vague feeling that she doesn’t like Percy (due to him destroying Circe’s Island, which she doesn’t remember, but the bad vibes are still there). Anyway, I feel like they eventually sort this out by severely butting heads in combat training and coming out of it with a begrudging mutual respect lmao

Reyna wanted her memories back because not knowing terrified her, but the moment she gets them back she wishes she could go back to the day before, when things may have felt complicated, but not nearly as much as they do now. She’s been confused about her messy feelings for Piper for a while, but before knowing about the prophecy she was way more certain she could figure it out eventually, especially because Piper is super patient with her and doesn’t seem to mind her taking her time to figure things out. But suddenly she’s got memories of the Aphrodite prophecy and her unrequited crush on Jason and she’s pretty sure she’s never liked a girl before, so that’s several new layers of confusion to add to the pile. (Honestly, it might be good to send her and Nico to see Cupid together in this scenario. Maybe that finally helps her figure things out.)

And she likes Camp Half-Blood. So much. Which she feels awful about, because she’s got a prophecy linking her to a completely different home. Is she allowed to feel even semi-comfortable here? Is that a betrayal of New Rome? Is it confirmations of the fears her father had that led to the way he treated her and her sister?

Actually, speaking of the whole thing with her dad, I’m sure her learning what happened to Leo’s mom and all the ways thats still affecting him when she doesn’t have her memories would result in some… complicated feelings that she in no way understands.

Piper also has messy complicated feelings about the situation with Reyna because in her fake memories, falling in love with Reyna played a huge role in her realizing she was queer. So learning those memories are fake is really hard on her. Her feelings are still very, very real, though, and if nothing else it at least plays into her being very patient with Reyna, because she remembers—and she knows that part isn’t fake, even if the context was—how much of a mess it was for her to figure out her own sexuality.

Jason hates this job. He likes helping people. But he doesn’t like being in charge, and he doesn’t like that that’s what people always expect of him when they look at him. He actively joined the worst cohort and befriended the unpopular kids and he still couldn’t escape what his father’s legacy made him. But if the last few months have proven anything, it’s that he’s not cut out for this job. He can fake it for a while, sure, but he’s just stressed and miserable all the time. The only parts of this he liked was helping people and spending time with Reyna, but Reyna wasn’t there and he hasn't felt like he’s really been able to help anyone in months. He’d probably jump at the opportunity to join the quest and just get away from everything for a while, because he may be miserable as a praetor, but he’s good at the hero part of things. I’m thinking Jason probably takes Reyna’s part from the books, except he tries to deescalate the situation way sooner and then also dips way faster to help out, because at some point it clicks for him that maybe they messed up by assuming the storm or fire part of the prophecy is about Percy and Leo because there’s a decent chance the storm part might be him. Reyna and Nico take the Athena statue back to camp and it kills her not to be there for the final battle but maybe that’s part of her arc—going where she’s needed and realizing it’s okay to leave leadership to other people. She’s the one to build a bridge between camps, which started with her, but New Rome’s survival doesn’t fall entirely on her shoulders. She actively has to take the weight off and leave it to other people to save the world. And that terrifies her, but it’s also a hugely important lesson for her and makes it way easier for her to accept that she can find a home at both camps without it being a betrayal of her person or her beliefs or the prophecy thats haunted her her entire life.

Your Annabeth thoughts are making me weep, oh my god? All of that is so so excellent? Her questioning whether Percy would even like her back with her not remembering everything they went through is agonizing but makes so much sense because of how used she is to not being anyone’s priority. She can’t know she’s found that permanence she’s always looked for in him because everything about him just got ripped away from her, too. Nothing feels steady anymore, so she focuses on what she can control. And that’s the things she can fix at Camp Jupiter. She knows how to run a camp. She knows how to do quests. Hell, New Rome has so many buildings her little architect heart would probably love to take a closer look at and potentially find ways to improve, so that’s also super helpful for her to focus on.

The thing with her dad is heartbreaking. Because yeah, how would he know? Annabeth has been away for so many years, and almost her entire life still takes place away from him. But obviously she doesn’t remember running away at age seven. She doesn’t remember how strained their relationship is. She comes home without any of her memories, to a dad who can barely offer her any answers on things any normal parent should know. And she may not have her memories, but when she leaves feeling confused and hurt, she knows it isn’t the first time.

Thinking about a concept where Juno swaps Annabeth and Reyna instead.

Annabeth and Reyna are fine, because they’ve always been able to handle just about anything the gods threw at them. Piper accidentally has her gay awakening via fake memories of a relationship with Reyna and is really confused why her girlfriend is acting so weird. Reyna and Leo bicker non-stop because even without her memories Reyna knows what she’s doing and she’s very used to getting people to listen to her but Leo will not be serious for even one second.

Percy would start fist fighting the gods in the first week. Jason has never been more stressed in his life because he never even wanted to be praetor but it was manageable while he was doing it with Reyna and now he’s alone. What the hell is he supposed to do.

By the time Annabeth shows up at Camp Jupiter, Jason is so relieved someone knows what they’re doing that he immediately asks her to be praetor, now if she’ll excuse him he needs to go have an anxiety meltdown in a corner somewhere

[qwimblenorrisstan]

(new chapters might come later than usual bc my friend went missing and I’m trying to find them, but I hope you guys enjoy this own! i tried switching it up and giving a few different perspectives, and there’s also a lot of seemingly hypocritical and paradoxical emotions, but this isn’t just me forgetting what I made my characters feel earlier, I just think they’d have a large mix and range of feelings)

(edit: my missing friend was found, don’t have any more details but I know they’re safe at least)

tw: panic attack?, zoning out, jealousy, almost distressing, mentions of abuse, tomato soup (ew), more abuse, just a bit of comfort (not rlly tho)

“Where’s—“

“Hush.”

Ghost’s words were quickly cut off with Price’s finger to his lips as he stood outside the door, your door, looking through the thin mesh wired window that proceed the tiniest glance in.

Simon had been looking for Johnny since morning. Soap wasn’t bound to his bed anymore, but that didn’t mean he needed to be all up and about. He was still technically at risk for PTSD episodes, panic attacks, confusion, hell, even the thought of him having to go through that alone was enough to make Ghost nervous.

But curiosity struck him like a train when he saw Price staring so intently through that window. All he expected was you laying there, hiding, still affected by the strange mental state you were in.

However, as he moved closer, he caught the tiniest whiff of it through the door. Underneath Price’s scent, a bittersweet mix of jealousy and guilt, was Johnny’s. In that room.

And Simon should’ve felt happy for the way Johnny’s scent had lost that bitter edge that seemed to have been there since the beginning of his recovery, but all he felt was something building up in his chest, something he thought had left a long, long time ago. Price moved out of the way, a glint of emotion in his eyes as he went to walk down the hallway, his posture stiff and tense.

He looked through the window, the dimly lit room showing Johnny and their alpha curled up on the floor. Simon’s first thought was that Johnny shouldn’t have been on the floor like that, that he might rip a stitch, that he could get cold and that protective urge to provide and keep him safe and warm. An urge, an instinct he’d smothered years ago, had tortured out of him in an abandoned warehouse somewhere in Ukraine years ago.

You were nearly shivering, just barely not because of Johnny, the weakness that was his strong instincts taking over and making him curl up around you in disregard for his own health.

Soap had always had the strongest instincts, never tried to smother them, never been ashamed of his urge to keep his team safe and care for them, make food for them, nest with them. Ghost had never understood it.

His father had been an insecure beta, always angry, always drinking to distract himself from how he felt displaced in society, with no instincts, heats, or ruts for himself. He’d resented his own nature, breaking apart the pack of the family, cruel punishment for any showing of instincts, spewing about how it was weakness.

Price had spent years undoing that ideology, countless gifts, courting for years, and it still lingered.

Feeling an anger terrifyingly similar to what he’d always imagined his father must’ve felt build in his chest, he went to walk off. Johnny would be fine. You would be fine. It wasn’t like he cared. He didn’t want to court you, didn’t want you in their nest. Sure, he felt a bit bad, you’d gotten into this whole state because of him, but the others would handle all the emotional instinctual bullshit.

They always did.

~

John’s eyes skimmed over the paperwork on his desk, trying not to notice the voice in the back of his mind, his omega whispering to him.

“It’s going to fall apart.”

No, it wouldn’t. Their pack had been established for years now, long before you’d ever arrived. One single incident surely wasn’t enough to make it fall apart, even if he felt the bonds fraying more every day, with every cold night spent in his office while the others were in the nest.

Except Johnny.

Poisonous, intoxicating words slipped from the back of his mind and slowly moved to the forefront as he got more distracted from his paperwork, from reality. Words blurred as he closed his eyes, sighing while he rubbed them.

“Your fault.”

It whispered.

It wasn’t his fault, was it? He’d let the alpha into their pack, tried telling his men everything would be fine, despite his own doubts. Maybe they’d noticed the cracks in his usual confidence on decisions and slipped into them. Maybe he had failed them.

God knows he’d definitely failed you.

“Shut it,”

He muttered under his breath, hand coming to rest on his forehead, his arm braced against his desk.

They didn’t shut it. His omega refused to shut it, bullying its way to the forefront of his mind, sowing insecurities everywhere it could.

He could’ve done better. Done more to keep you comfortable, keep you satisfied and content, invited you to the nest, welcomed you to the pack. But he’d chosen to be bitter and think more about Soap’s absence than your presence, living in the past, and the version of the future he’d wanted.

He had failed you as an omega. He had been the leader of the pack; leading everyone else to reject you as well, influencing their decisions and feelings, even if indirectly.

Your condition was his fault.

Now his entire team had to bear the consequences of his actions.

He wasn’t cut out to be a leader.

Maybe he should just—

“John?”

His eyes jolted back open, back to his office as his omega reluctantly retreated with a hiss, leaving him reeling as he tried to pull himself together.

Laswell opened the door up, giving him a questioning look and holding files in her hand, her MacBook in the other.

“Ah, Laswell. What is it?”

He asked, rubbing his hand over his face, knowing there was probably a red mark on his forehead from the pressure his hand had had on it for so long. His arm was a bit red from being pressed against the desk for long.

He glanced to the clock.

Twenty minutes had passed.

“I knocked about 3 times,”

She said with a raised eyebrow, moving to sit on the chair in front of his desk. He sighed, trying to think of some excuse as he blinked away the welling of emotion in his eyes.

“Just…distracted, is all.”

She let out a hum, not seeming surprised. She set the folders down, sliding them across the desk to him.

“There’s the background info you asked for. Their files were hard to pull, but we got them.”

He gleaned over most of it, name, age, weight, gender, scores and health test results, until he got to the section of conditions.

Most of it was blacked out with what he could smell being a sharpie, probably recently considering how strong it was. Whoever had given these to Laswell hadn’t wanted them to know a few things, probably assuming Price would discharge them if he saw anything wrong.

History of Abuse — caution around domineering omegas*

Was written in a sloppy handwriting Price could hardly read. The history of abuse didn’t surprise Price, it probably wouldn’t with anyone else in the pack. But why send you to them, then? A pack of 4 very dominant omegas. It was a paradox in and of itself.

Shock Therapy? — ask Kames*

That was more of a surprise. Shock therapy was outdated, and he wasn’t sure whether it was implying that you’d gone through it in the past, or that it was a potential treatment plan. Who was Kames?

Scent gland — looks scarred, ask Kames about that too (no scent=good?)

He’d noticed it in the beginning. Your fucked up scent gland. Simon had a similar one, making his scent hardly even noticeable. Probably the reason why when you’d asked how he covered the gunpowder in his scent, he’d yanked you down, either offended or annoyed, trying to make you realize he didn’t have a scent.

Originally, Price had assumed it was the gunpowder or Simon’s faint omega scent that had set you off, but with a bit more information, he realized it might’ve been the motion of the action.

A forceful scenting.

And if you’d been a victim of abuse, then it could have been quite the reminder.

He let out a hefty sigh, glancing up at Laswell, knowing he’d have to tell his boys about this and that they wouldn’t be happy.

~

“They fuckin’ what?”

As expected, they weren’t happy. Ghost was sitting silently, brooding per usual. Soap was cursing everything to ever exist. And Gaz had this feral look in his eye. Of course they all hated the thought of an alpha being abused, but it was personal for Gaz, given he had Alpha sisters. He had an almost direct view into how messed up the system was. How cruel it was towards alpha’s.

“Give me a name an’ I’ll focken—“

“This is all we know right now. All we can do is focus on rehabilitating them.”

Gaz had remained silent, anger brewing in his gut into a nasty, bitter stew that would consume him if he continued letting his emotions add more ingredients to the pot.

He took a deep breath.

And he didn’t let it go, no, he would find the bastard that did this to you, but he would keep calm for now. Being angry wouldn’t make anything better.

“I’ll go get them some food.”

He said quietly, getting up from his chair, pushing it in, trying to relax his tense muscles as he walked to the canteen, passing fellow soldiers, giving the proper hello’s, nods, and salutes if he had to.

It seemed like a blur as he entered the large lunchroom, walking to the chef and asking for a bowl of soup, whatever they had on hand. He wasn’t exactly sure what you liked; but since you didn’t seem to be in a talking mood he’d figure it out through trial and error.

It was only his second day of doing this, but it was the thought that counted.

The chef passed him a bowl of what looked to be some sort of creamy tomato soup, and after sticking his finger in, he decided it was warm enough and nodded his thanks before walking to your room.

He knocked quietly first, not wanting to startle you, before opening the door up just barely enough for him to squeeze in.

Ever since Soap had spent a night cuddling with you, you’d at least moved from under the bed to the floor on top of a mattress and some blankets. Better than nothing, in his eyes.

Your eyes were on him as soon as he entered the room, he could tell despite his eyes not having adjusted to the darkness yet.

“I brought you food, thought you might be hungry.”

He tried speaking in a soothing tone, or at least one that hookups in the past had said was soothing. Kyle approached you cautiously like one might a wild animal, sitting on the outside of your ‘nest’ which you’d made to mimic an omega’s.

His heart ached.

Truly, he wanted to ditch any personal space and grab you, hold you and coo to you for hours, keep you from being distressed, but he knew that would throw away any progress he’d made.

Setting the tomato soup bowl on the edge of the mattress, he watched as you glanced at it, then didn’t seem interested, only sitting up the tiniest bit with your back against the now mattress-less frame of your bed.

“You need to eat, look, it’s good.”

He said, taking his own spoonful and eating a bit, trying not to cringe. Kyle had always hated tomato soup, even his own mother’s recipe hadn’t tasted like anything more than mushy baby food to him, but you had to eat. Being as tall and muscular as you were, if you didn’t get at least one meal a day could very well starve.

Your narrowed eyes pinned him down as he took another spoonful of the soup and offered it to you, holding the spoon to your mouth.

For a moment, Kyle thought you might slap it away or just throw the bowl at him. He wouldn’t protest if you did.

But instead, you opened your mouth, taking a bite of the soup. He saw the cringe in your eyes, as well, when you tasted it, but you swallowed despite it. He’d fall out of a helicopter ten times over just to see you eating after so much protest and refusal yesterday.

As he lifted the spoon again, and you took another bite, he got the feeling that you weren’t doing this because you wanted to, simply for the fact that every instinct in your body told you to keep your omega happy, even in spite of your own feelings.

And Gaz didn’t know if that was good or bad.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

[nobodysdaydreams]

Some more thoughts on a wicked AU where the Wizard raises Elphaba with hilarious implications:

Melena (Elphaba’s mother’s) husband is Governor Thropp, an important politician. Which means that, inevitably, one day the governor and his family will likely be called to attend a banquet or dinner with the Wizard and his daughter. If the Wizard didn’t know whose wife Melena was and Melena doesn’t know who the Wizard is, neither of them would have any idea they’re about to see the other again, not until they actually saw each other.

And of course, the two families would likely be forced to spend more time together because Elphaba and Nessarose would get along so well. They have similar likes and dislikes and they both understand what’s it’s like to be different (green and disabled). They also both understand what it’s like to have a father who adores them but is overprotective (Nessarose is still disabled in this AU because the milk flower actually didn’t have anything to do with that part, and Governor Thropp is just a jerk who used the flower to blame Elphaba for no reason). The two would hit it off right away, and even comment about how much they look alike and “could be sisters.” The girls mean this as a joke (after all, Elphaba is green) but imagine the horror on the Wizard and Melena’s faces after they say that.

Meanwhile, Governor Thropp considers meeting the Wizard and Elphaba a huge honor so of course he’s being super nice to both of them and sees no reason the girls shouldn’t be best friends and why their two families shouldn’t spend as much time together as possible, because this will be wonderful for his political career.

Then the second Melena and the Wizard have a moment alone:

The Wizard: “Was it really that easy for you to forget about her, about us?”

Melena: “It was for the best. Look how happy the girls are. Besides, you don’t want rock to that boat. Just think of what it could do to the perfect little kingdom you’ve established here. We both know you don’t have any real power… “Wizard”.”

The Wizard: “And we both know your family isn’t going to survive the revelation of who our daughter’s mother really is!”

Melena: “Your daughter. Remember what happens to both of us if they find out.”

Then it’s only a matter of time before Nessarose discovers the green bottle in her mother’s room, unless Melena immediately goes home and destroys it.

[baeddelml]

I hope I’m not intruding on your post, but this was largely similar to my experience in school. Boys around me were calling me girly in first grade. There was no hiding for me. All I could do was shut down and withdraw and bide time while everyone increasingly targeted me. Pretty much everything you listed here, the SA, the suicide rates, the harassment, the eating disorders, the covering yourself more than expected by people, the social isolation, have been common amongst my other transfem friends.

We are not socialized as male, they can pick up on it, they figure it out, they may not realize what they’ve figured out but they do in fact lock on to the fact that you are vulnerable, that you are different, and most importantly that you are disposable. Theyll isolate you and harass you until you can’t take it anymore. They can tell that you think like a girl, that you feel like a girl, and whether they’re aware of that or not they treat you exactly how you’d expect them to treat a girl who cannot get away from them. Their mistreatment of you is amplified because you are a girl no one defends, no one takes seriously, and yet they so obviously treat you with all the distain they have for cis women that they know is socially unacceptable to act on. We are socialized as woman-denied-womanhood.

.

[transgenderer]

INTERVIEWER

That seems similar to the idea that the way that one language expresses an idea might never fully translate to another. What happens in that space you inhabit as a translator, between the original work and the translation?

CARSON

I think of it as a ditch, a ditch between two roads or countries. It’s always been interesting for me, the state of mind that the translator arrives at, where they have two languages simultaneously on their brain-screen. And they’re saying something not quite equivalent and they both keep on floating there. Some writers—Emily Dickinson would be the outstanding example—make use of that ditch within their own language. So she’s not translating from another language. She’s translating herself. She writes certain lines and words and then crosses them out and puts another word in, or writes the third word on the side, or turns the paper over and makes another version of the whole thing. And it all exists together as the poem. It’s just a really weird state of mind, to have all that floating, and have it be, have it constitute the poem in its entirety—in its untidy, unresolved entirety.

In translation, this arises in a different way, because you have a text, and it has perhaps certain obvious errors in it. And then you have variant readings at the bottom of the page, which are ideas that different scholars have had over the years to make a better reading where it seems wrong. So you get, again, these possibilities floating in your mind, for the same thing, but different. And they’re all kind of there together constituting the poem. I’ve never known what to do with that. It’s a beautiful event to have the poem in Greek with various readings in English underneath it, and to have all that floating as possibilities for what the guy really said.

I can’t communicate the beauty of that most of the time on a page in a book, or in something called “a translation of x.” There’s no format for that. You can do it sort of on a computer with links and whatnot, side text. But basically nobody wants to be bothered with reading all those links, and it doesn’t feel the same. As a scholar, when you’re looking at the page itself with the language and the variants, and it all floats in your mind, it’s just an extraordinary experience. Incommunicable, I think, in its finer aspects.

the thing is, what carson describes here is like....exactly what the zhuangzi translation by brook ziporyn is! he has constant translation footnotes and endnotes AND whenever somehting is particuarly ambiguous he double-translates it in one line. its amazing!

[admirationandromantics]

Computer Assembling

The photo mentioned is the first one on the three-photo preview on the top. Fucking hell. I swear to god, you guys are going to be the death of me when writing cause ugh, this just flew and flew and flew! I don't have time to write like this, but can't help it when you make the exact scenarios I've been imagining myself. Holy shit, well, read the request and you'll get a good idea of what's about to happen. Ps, added some lovely smut in this, so enjoy <3

Word count: 2,4k (Unedited)

h a i . . . :3 sent u a photo in your inbox to go along with this little request/thot thinking about Chris lowkey being into building computers and he's wearing THAT outfit i sent you and his build looks like that too and maybe the relationship is like you guys are hanging out for maybe the 4-5th time ever and you're just sitting there staring and drooling and not being subtle at all and he's just stuttering and trying not to literally fuck you right then and there while you two are in his room while he builds his new pc build.. oh my god.. i really need nerdy, beefy chris today and your writing always fuels me 🫶😇 -@nerd-space

I can’t help staring at his arms, his sweater rolled up over them, making the lower half partially visible. I wonder what’s underneath the rest of it…

“Can you hand me that star-formed screw?” he asks, reaching out his hand for me to give him. I look around the floor, different bags of screws, corks, plastic and tools. I take some screws with crosses and hand them to him. He takes a quick look to see that they’re correct, before starting to spin them into the metal. I watch intently, his fingers working their magic, no detail too small. Being precise and delicate as he keeps going. Veins forming on his hands as he tightens the screws. 

He shifts, noticing my stare. I can’t control it, therefore I have to force my hand upwards, closing my mouth and turning my head. I bet he’d kick me out for the nasty thoughts I’m having. 

“So” he starts, coughing a little. “Think we can get this done in one night?” 

“I know something we can” 

“What?” 

Shit, I said that out loud. I stutter, trying to find something remotely similar which doesn’t sound as suggestive. 

“I know we can” I quickly rescue myself, and he gives a silent nod, dragging the metalwork on his lap, hiding the view I’m so shamelessly taking advantage of. I sigh, turning back to the equipment. We weren’t far away now, just one board and a little assembling left. I enjoy watching it, not just because of him, but because it looks just like lego. I bet if I bought a set, he’d build it with me. Another reason to watch his hands work, his muscles tense and veins popping. 

His room is cozy. Blinds are open, but the outside is dark. It’s nighttime after all. A lot can still happen before dawn. His walls are full of posters and pictures, his old gaming setup on the desk, as well as a semi-large bed. Around a queen-size one. I take another breath, thighs pressing together to stop my thoughts from wandering. 

“Are you feeling alright?” he asks, cheeks a bit flushed. Is it hot in here? 

“Um, yeah. Just you know”

“What?” 

“Nothing, I’ve just never been in your room before” 

“First time for everything, right?” He laughs a little, and I smile. His hand wanders up to his face, rearranging his glasses, pushing them back. God, if he only took them off, if he did and threw that piece of machinery on the floor and just took me hard right now on the-

“But yeah, none of the others have been here yet” he explains, waving to the room. I nod, looking around once again. The urge to look through his stuff is exhausting. I can’t help myself. 

“Mind if I check your drawers?” I ask, already standing up. He smiles, nodding along and holds his hand out. 

“Be my guest” 

I firstly walk to his desk, opening the first drawer and being met with a couple of game cards, coins and some paper and pens. All of them seem to be minecraft coordinates, remembering where different structures are and other people’s bases. 

“Didn’t take you for a Minecraft sweat–gamer” I joke, looking through the notes. 

“Well, when you’re playing with Josh, you kinda have to” 

“I see” 

I move to the other drawer, bending forward a little since it’s lower. Maybe a bit on purpose? He won’t notice either way. This one is full of candy wrappers, every colour just laying there. I dig through it, finding a small notebook on the bottom. 

“You know there’s something called a garbage bin?” 

“And you know there’s something called privacy?” 

“You said it was fine!” 

“Yeah, yeah” 

I open the book, seeing a couple of old drawings and doodles. Some of them are only scribbles. On one page is Ashley’s name, and my heart falls a bit. This was three years ago. It still doesn’t matter, we all know how down bad he was for her. I sigh silently, closing the book and putting it back. 

I figure that’s it, I’ll stop snooping now. I turn around, seeing him on the chair, screws still in hand as he works intently. I sit down on the bed, right over him, watching as he tightens them, arm flexing in the process. The curvature of his muscles as they reach all the way back behind his sweater. 

Jeez, I need to stop myself, I sound desperate. Desperately horny to be honest, but who wouldn’t be? He’s sitting there, with his arms bare, working his magic right beside me. Glasses on, pants unfortunately on, muscles tensing and a sweet blush on his face. His adorable glasses and messy hair. He said he got out of the shower right before I came. I feel hot, and it’s definitely not okay. What if he still likes Ashley? What if he sees me as just a friend, nothing more? I don’t want to ruin this. 

“Um, y-you’re turning quite red, are you alright?” he suddenly says, a worried look in his eyes as he looks down at me. I pull myself from my trance, chest heaving as I try to steady my pulse- 

“Yeah, I’m fine, just thinking” 

“About what?” He watches as my eyes linger over his arms once again, breathing getting uneven and my thighs pressing together. I have no shame, damnit. 

“Y-you know” 

“Care to elaborate on that?” He laughs a little, gazing over, taking in every inch of me. Am I that obvious? Was this top way too low-cut, because I’ve seen him staring a couple of times. 

“About why you’re staring down my chest” I blurt out, being too forward. Shit. His face gets completely red, hands working in a rush as his attention goes back to the project. He sighs, head leaning back as he collects himself. 

“You can’t expect me not to look when you’re dressed like that” 

“Hartley, are you calling me easy?” 

“Hey, I’ve seen how you’ve looked at me for the last hours” 

The room turns silent, my mouth open to say something back, but I don’t manage. He’s stopped working on the computer, arms stiff and eyes shocked, as if he can’t believe he caught me. Shit, he actually caught me. I’ve been so careful, at least as much as I could. We both stare at one another, and I feel my pulse go up again, heart beating faster and breathing quickening. Fucking hell, why is he staring at me like this? I look him up and down, the computer still being in his lap. 

“I-I um” I start, but can’t finish. A small smile creeps up on his lips as his attention goes back to the project as if nothing happened. I look up confused, wondering what just happened. 

“If my bare arms has that effect on you, you could’ve just told me” he laughs a bit, fastening the frame. 

“What, no, that’s not-”

“I mean, I can take off the whole thing if that’d make you pay attention, but I think it wouldn’t work” 

“Hey, I wasn’t-”

“But you can sit there drooling over my fucking fingers without me thinking about how you’d handle it” 

“What, handle what?” 

He puts the tools down, moving the computer off his lap and walking over. Just then, I notice his large bulge underneath his pants. The thought alone makes my face blush, all the ways I’ve imagined him coming back to haunt me. 

He leans over, and before I can process what’s happening, his lips are on mine, arms on either side of me on the bed. I melt into it, hands going up around his neck, pulling him closer. I lean down, dragging him with and letting him tower over me, even if we’re laying horizontally. His fingers move to grope my thigh, roughly kneading as he bites my lips. I can’t help the moan that escapes my cords, getting swallowed by him as he moves lower and looks up at me. 

“You really can’t keep testing my limits like this”

“What if I do?” 

“Then I can’t be held responsible for what I do next” 

“And what’ll that be?” 

“You’re about to find out” 

His lips leave kisses and bites all over my neck, sucking until he finds the spot making me scream. His hand immediately goes to cover my mouth, smiling as he stops for a bit. 

“Thin walls, I’ve got neighbours, contain yourself”

“Easy for you to say” 

“Do you know how much I’ve wanted to fuck the life out of you for the last few hours?” 

“N-no” I stammer, his hands moving under my shirt, groping my breasts. 

“So much I already had a trip to the bathroom, and you got me all going again as I came back” 

“So, you’ve already tried to take care of yourself” 

“You make it difficult” he smirks, dragging my top off. 

“Well, we have to do something about that” 

“You bet I am” 

He takes hold of my already unbuttoned pants, dragging them off with ease, and watching in hunger as my breast jiggles from the movement. I gasp at the cold air, feeling it especially on my soaked panties. He doesn’t waste time, unbuttoning his pants and dragging off the white, thin sweater, letting me see his muscular build. I reach up to him, feeling every curve of each muscle until he gets impatient and throws me down on the sheets. 

“Again, we’re not testing my limits tonight, they’ve already been crossed” 

I snicker, feeling him cage me with his arms as he kisses my lips. I carefully take off his glasses, placing them on the nightstand. His face is flushed, chest heaving as he breathes, but I don’t blame him. I probably look worse. He kisses down my stomach, stopping by my thighs to suck them dry. I moan loudly, forgetting about the walls and neighbours. They would have to deal with it. He leaves red and blue marks all over, several times causing me to slam my legs shut. He doesn’t get hurt though, his big strong arms keeping them apart easily before moving to my heat. His fingers trace over the wet fabric, and he hums to himself when feeling it. When feeling me. I whine from the tender contact, the touch too weak to do anything about my craving. He stands up, taking fully off his pants and boxers. I do the same, wanting him so incredibly bad, right now. I’ve waited for him long enough. I pull off my panties, unhooking my bra and throwing it off. He stands there mesmerized by the sight, but I don’t let him take it in. 

“Gaze while we fuck, I need you now” I whisper, taking his hand and dragging him over me again. 

“As you wish ma’am” 

He leans over me, letting his length coat itself in my juices. I’m so ready for him, even though I didn’t get the time to see how big he is, I need him right now inside me. 

“Are you sure you can take it?” he whispers teasingly, making my tension build up. 

“Chris, I swear to god I’ll do it myself if you don’t-”

I give a loud moan as he pushes himself completely in, filling me too much, way over the brim. He gropes my thigh, lifting my leg to get him even further, almost reaching my cervix. I whine, the pain and pleasure merging together and starting to build in my stomach. 

“You know, there’s something so satisfying about shutting you up” 

“So this is how confident and cocky you get when you understand that someone likes you?” 

“Maybe”

“Do I need to remind you of the time you saw me in that short skirt-”

I moan loudly again as he pushes out and completely in again. That time, his face was flustered the whole night. I even got a comment from both Mike and Josh, which made him look over more often, watching intently the whole night. 

“If you keep reminding me of stuff like that, we’ll stay here until dawn” 

“I wouldn’t mind that” 

He starts moving, each thrust earring whimpers and moans from us both, filling the room with our voices and sloppy slapping. His hand eventually finds its way down to my clit, rubbing soft circles in rhythm with his movements. My arms go to his back and neck, pulling him down and meeting my lips with his, my nails scratching from the heavy stimulation. He knows what he’s doing, and he’s doing it well, the knot in my stomach steadily building up as he keeps going. 

“Switch” I whisper, and he obliges, turning us around and letting me straddle him. I start moving immediately, chasing my orgasm as he whimpers and groans. I jump up and down, my thighs doing most of the work. He notices quickly, and his arms go to my ass, groping harshly and moving me. The position makes him reach a new angle deep inside, making the pleasure unbearable. I’m so incredibly close, I just need a little more time. I start feeling hotter, sweat appearing on my forehead as I keep up the sloppy rhythm, letting my breasts jiggle in front of him. 

I start grinding a bit when I go down, letting our pelvises touch, and giving me that extra stimulation on my clit. This takes over me, making me go over the edge, tightening around him. I keep going, riding out my high on top of him as he jumps me up and down. He gives one last slam, pressing me deep on him and spilling inside me. Thank god I’m on the pill. 

I collapse on top of him, pulse skyrocketing and chest heaving. We’re both sweaty and flustered, breathing in sync as his hand comes to caress my back. I hum into his neck, kissing him softly. 

“So, I think you might have a thing for me” he smiles, fingers going to tangle in my hair. 

“You don’t say” 

“I’m not complaining”

“You better not” I laugh, capturing his lips on mine yet again. “Should we finish that computer?” 

“You don’t want to see what else these hands can do?” 

“I’m not saying no to that”

[everythingaboutjude]

It’s more than obvious that he is not as close to cama, tchou, vini and rodrigo as he was before. You can tell by the fact that they don’t spend as much time together off the field. And before y’all say “oh but we don’t know what they do in their off time, we’re not there” these guys always take photos when they hang out and post in their dumps. The same way we know Camavinga and vini are very close, they’re always together and there’s always a video/pic. but somehow when Jude is with them no pics are take? Because they don’t hang out like that.

Also you can see in training. There’s so much footage from last season of Jude having pure fun with them and now we mostly see that with endrick/brahim/valverde. Like yeah you’ll see him share a laugh with the others but it’s not the same brotherhood they had.

Also I have this little suspicion, which I’m fully aware I might be reading too much into it but But couple months ago endrick and tchou got into it in training (small disagreement but tchou looked very upset)and it was caught on camera. You could see mbappe and Jude were trying to calm things down and Jude telling tchou to drop it (I’m paraphrasing here). Idk something tells me Jude didn’t like the way tchou acted towards endrick and he kind distanced himself a bit and became even more protective and more of a big brother towards endrick since then. I could be reading into it. I’m also not saying he stoped being friends with him cause they interact on ig. But I felt the difference.

Yes I have similar thoughts and observations anon. ❤️

[anim-ttrpgs]

I’d like to add that Eureka’s monsters are not just about disability, that’s just the angle I talk about them from the most because it’s the one I most relate to personally. Really they cover a lot of themes, from destitute poverty, criminality, corrupting power, disability, mental illness, lgbtness, etc., and the same monster can even be about different things to different people. This is by design. Most people think of the thing from beyond as the autism monster, but to me, the vampire is the autism monster. (Light sensitivity, particular obsessions and rules, a way of being that seems to make people uncomfortable no matter what, never seeming to fully "grow up" and "act their age," etc.) It’s not a literary coincidence that Yvette Preux, the iconic vampire, is severely autistic herself. It’s also not exactly an accident that a lot of lgbt people, both Christian and ex-Christian, relate to the religious themes* of the vampire rules. (Even though, ironically, Yvette being what-we-today-might-call-"bisexual" had is responsible for 0% of her religious trauma because that was different in the 1200s when she grew up.)

Because like you said, they intersect. Even though the (stated) reason that different people are disadvantaged/judged/outcast in society may be different, the end result is often very similar.

*Themes like how “everyone knows” that vampires are demonic and anathema to Christianity, but if you actually read the Bible and know anything about historical folklore, that’s not really necessarily true. Also “everyone knows” that the Bible condemns homosexuality, but if you actually read the thing then it’s barely mentioned at all, Jesus said literally nothing on the subject, and the few times it is mentioned, if you know anything about Bronze Age life, you know that consensual sex between two lovers is not exactly what’s being referenced there.

But that doesn’t change the fact that that’s what everyone thinks, and so it’s still not unreasonable for someone to want to turn their back on a community where everyone thinks they’re inherently evil. That’s their choice to make.

What are some good RPGs that would say are good examples of being queer?

Sorry it took me a while to reply to this!

Anyway, my favorite capital Q Queer RPGs are Monsterhearts and Dungeon Bitches. Monsterhearts is the subtler of the two, being basically a game about playing a CW style teen drama with monsters that is basically a genre mashup of Vampire Diaries, Ginger Snaps, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and Jennifer's Body. The queerness is very much textual but it's more so thematic and symbolic. The game's themes are queerness and adolescence and growing up, the vehicle it uses to explore those themes is monsters, because queer teens often get made to feel monstrous for having feelings and desires that fall outside of the norm.

Dungeon Bitches by @cavegirlpoems on the other hand is much more explicit about its queerness, in the sense that the queerness is also explicitly and unambiguously written into the fiction of the game. It is a game that is very much grounded in the dungeon-crawling genre of fantasy but that asks the question of "what kind of people would actually get into the dungeon-crawling life" and answers that with "people who are otherwise marginalized in so-called civilized society, especially queer women." It's very much a game that uses the dungeon crawling lifestyle to present a dialectic between the "safety" offered by the closet and normative society, and the precariousness and danger and the undeniable thrill of living as your true self. It's a game that is resonant to me not only as a fan of dungeon crawl type games but also as a trans woman making her first small steps towards transition. It's a fucked up game for fucked up dolls.

There are plenty of other queer games too, including Thirsty Sword Lesbians, Queerz, Girl by Moonlight, Dream Askew, and many many more. I think Thirsty Sword Lesbians is the most well-known and I do own it and at the end of the day it kind of leaves me cold. It feels like it's trying to play things a bit too safe and at the same time I feel its politics of identity are just messy.

Anyway, this is something I've been thinking of for a while, but since I've been thinking a lot about queer games not only in terms of "does it have the Gay" but also in terms of "does it thematically intersect with questions of queerness," I have to mention Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy by @anim-ttrpgs.

So okay having been involved in the community surrounding Eureka for a while there is something about that game that appeals to LGBTQ folks, especially trans women. Now, Eureka has of course been written primarily from the point of view of disability: the main writer is disabled and the game makes it explicit that many of the supernatural elements, including the monster investigator types, are symbolic of the experiences of the disabled. But because the experiences of marginalized groups tend to intersect a lot, many queer folks also end up seeing themselves there. Vampires in Eureka are written very much from a Christian folkloric point of view so that many Christians may see them as inherently anathema even while they may still maintain their faith; something that many queer Christians may resonate with. Similarly, one of the monster types, the Thing from Beyond, is all about being an alien shape shifter trying to navigate a society that is ultimately scary and alien to them. There's also Living Dolls up in that thang!!!

There is more to Eureka that makes it appeal to many queer readers, but the main thing is this: it is written from a point of view that is ultimately empathetic of the "freaks" and outcasts. And while it does approach these topics from the point of view of disability, it is also very open to queer readings.

And this is sort of a source of gentle ribbing within the Eureka community: that the lead writer ends up writing stuff that resonates deeply with his friends and fans of the game, a significant number of whom happen to be trans women, and that this has to be pointed out to him constantly. It's really sweet and funny. (Fun anecdote: when I first came out as a trans woman he approached me in my DMs asking "So you're a chick now?" followed by a 👍 emoji.)

And I think that's a fun contrast. Many games that ultimately do not touch upon queerness in any meaningful way in their themes or gameplay will still get lauded as queer because they will use identity as a coat of paint or a part of their marketing. And at the same time someone writing candidly about their experiences of living with disability via metaphor may end up accidentally writing something that actually resonates with the lived experiences of queer people.

[draconic-distress]

Ok i know i don’t really fragmem post over here but there’s something that’s been bothering me lately that i kinda wanna talk about in the same vein as my past analysis posts. I’m not trying to start anything and everyone is entitled to their headcanons and opinions, and I will continue to believe that because it’s rude to overstep on things like that. That being said…

This post is about Myunna’s age. And the fact that, seeing as they’re often viewed and depicted as a child by the fandom…

Then why isn’t Rimicha?

Like I said, I’m not looking to start a fight, and I’m not trying to change anyone’s headcanons or beliefs. This is just something that’s been bothering me personally, and I thought I’d bring it up while we wait for the final part of Blue episode 3 to come out in a few days.

To start off, I wanna compare Rimicha and Myunna as characters and examine what makes them so childlike in the fandom’s eyes—the latter more than the former. A lot of surface level things are easy to pick up on:

Both of them have very ‘’’childlike’’’ personalities, in terms of coming across as irresponsible, skittish, excitable, insecure due to their inexperience in comparison to their fellow knights, etcetera.

2. Similarly to the previous point, this behavior can also lead to other people treating them differently, be it teasingly/affectionately or just outright talked down to like they're kids. This carries over to the fandom in a way

3. Both of them are barely over five foot. In fact, Rimicha is only three inches taller than Myunna (Rimicha is 5’5” or 165 cm, Myunna is 5’2” or 157 cm). That’s not a very big discrepancy

4. Both of them are twinks. I’m correct and you know that I mean look at them. They’re both skinny, shorter boys who appear younger and more androgynous in comparison to their peers and seniors

5. Both of them are not only the youngest of their Bouquets, but are also the youngest of all the Fragaria Knights overall

This chartthat was recently released by the official twitter shows the age:time serving ratio of each knight, and seems to imply that each space is only a one year gap between characters—for the most part—which already tells us a lot. Based on that math, Myunna and Rimicha are barely a year apart in age, and less than that in the amount of time between when they each became knights.

So all things considered, Myunna and Rimicha are roughly the same age and should be treated as such, right?

But the thing is… they’re not.

Rimicha is treated as an adult by the fandom, he’s his fellow knight’s peer and trusted ally, and the fandom doesn’t deny that for even a second. Myunna, however, is treated as a child, as in like 10-14 age range, and is not viewed with the same respect and fairness their Red Bouquet contemporary is.

Something about that has always bothered me. With how they both act, look, and the fact they're the youngest of their groups—and overall—it's strange that the fandom views them so differently when there's so much similarity between them. I genuinely don't know where that would've come from.

One reason I can believe for people viewing Myunna as younger by comparison is the fact that they’ve skipped a grade in Knight School, as confirmed by the interviews conducted for the first anniversary

I can see why this would make people think that, but I really don't think it quite adds up to conclude that Myunna is a minor, especially if it was only one year they skipped.

We don't know much about Knight School, so for now let's say it lasts about as long as a normal high school/college, and you go for four years. And let's say Myunna was 14 when they started going, since that seems like a reasonable age for them to have started going while still being young.

By that math, the youngest they could've graduated would be 17. I doubt they'd let anyone under like 16 be a knight, but I can believe Myunna—who would have been over 16 based on our math—became a knight right out of the gate if they really were that prodigal.

To add on to this, let's take note of our good friend the age:time served ratio chart again:

notice the portion I've circled, which is roughly 1 1/2–2 1/2 knights long. If we're going off of the logic that one space equates to one year, then that means by the time the actual main story of Blue Bouquet occurs and we're introduced to Myunna, then according to our math they would have to be 18–19 years old minimum at that point.

This logic can also work backwards towards the argument that Rimicha is also a minor, by virtue of the fact that he must have been in Knight School around the same time, and is only a year older than Myunna—I personally believe they're both adults, though, albeit very young adults.

So what's the deal? Like genuinely I wanna hear everyone's perspective on this because I don't know where that split came from. What about Rimicha makes him seem more like an adult than Myunna?

Like I said, I'm not trying to start anything by pointing this out, it's just something I noticed within the fandom and wanted to put down my thoughts about. I won't disrespect anyone's views or headcanons because of my own thoughts, so if you don't want to believe what I have to say, then you're under absolutely no obligation to, and that's ok. If you have your own input, then feel free to share, just please be civil. Everyone's entitled to their opinions, even if we disagree, and I'll continue to respect that!

[ven10]

Is Quigley Quagmire dyslexic?

I have a theory!! Hear me out hear me out-

Reasons:

1: His siblings have very English-based interests (poetry+journalism) which require a lot of writing whereas Quigley is into cartography which is largely just images and numbers. Imagine Quigley struggling with words then finding cartography, something so fascinating and exciting which doesn’t need words to do. Isadora could write couplets to capture the feeling of a place, Duncan could scourge newspaper archives for historical context on the same place but Quigley would be able to map it out clearly+ precisely without needing a single written word to do so. 🗺️

2: His insistence to the Baudelaires that he is ‘well-read’ (possibly stemming from being shamed for his learning disability+trying to cover it up). 📚

3: He knew in advance the questions that the Vernacularly Fastened Door would ask and yet, despite having the opportunity during his time in Monty’s library, he did not research the answers in the books there. 🧐 ❓

4:Maybe one of the reasons why Quigley didn’t try reuniting with his siblings until they were out of reach (kidnapped) was bc when he realised they were at a boarding school he imagined himself being humiliated (nobody and no school Ofc should humiliate anyone for having learning disabilities but let’s face it. Prufrock absolutely would.) 🏫

5: When Quigley+the Baudelaires are in the burned down VFD headquarters in Netflix!TSS, Quigley comes across a partially burnt book and reads the title as “Odes”, Klaus soon corrects him saying it must have been originally titled “Codes” because of the positioning of the letters on the page (too far to the right so Klaus was able to tell that a letter was missing). Quigley may not have noticed the gap where a missing letter should have been as he may be familiar with experiencing the ‘river effect’, something which dyslexic people can experience. 🌊

[ “Dyslexic users may sometimes see the river effect in the text they’re reading [1]. This is when large gaps occur within consecutive lines of text”]-uxmovement.com

•~👁️VFD+prejudice&discrimination👁️~•

More on a matter I touched on briefly earlier, as much as I love many snicketverse characters, given the ideals VFD pushes onto them

(ie “well read people are less likely to be evil” also that quote about noble people always carrying a book with them, just to name a few examples)

I feel like they would treat Quigley’s dyslexia as something shameful and so Quigley, in his ‘cool+capable volunteer’ persona he puts on in TSS would try hiding the fact he’s dyslexic. The whole “well read people are less likely to be evil” thing he says is just so…odd but it could make sense if Quigley was just trying to really push the idea that he is a voracious reader.

Also, another example on how vfd members (It’s really likely his parents were raised in VFD and so would have similar mindsets) would see dyslexia as shameful is how Lemony Snicket, when describing the main VILLAIN (Olaf) includes details of Olaf’s spelling errors (eg not knowing how to spell ‘poison’ in TPP) and disregard of literature.

Lemony often uses the firestarters’ lack of knowledge about literature+lack of literary skills to portray them as villainous+ignorant. However, it strikes me as more than the firestarters being ‘not interested’ in literature than actively rebelling against the idea that knowing literature in depth/being well read=being noble. I mean, Esmé BURNED ‘Anna karenina’ after vfd assigned it as summer reading. If she merely wasn’t interested in literature she would have let the book collect dust. 🔥

Additionally, in ATWQ when Lemony is asked the ❗️difference between the noble and the villainous sides of VFD❗️ the only answer he can come up with is “we read more books” (not exact phrasing)

That concludes my rambling for now ☕️ ✌️

(Also, if anyone notices any mistakes in the info about dyslexia here then please lmk so I can correct it+avoid unintentionally spreading misinformation! :) )

[55sturn]

Do you even like writing? You are always posting about new AU’s you’re starting but you haven’t wrote anything in weeks🫣…You take months to even make the introductions for them and they’re all the same. You’re also very selective about who you do and don’t respond to, You’re also very rude 😐 You should either start writing again or at least be more interactive before I’m not the only one unfollowing.

i’m sorry, but you do not get to dictate what i do. i have a high demand job where i work over three quarters of the week, plus i am pretty much raising my three siblings on my own. so i apologize that i’m not updating as fast as you’d like me to, but i’ve got more important shit to do.

my two main au’s are similar yes, because they’re both losers, but their personalities are different. i take “months” to work on the introductions because i want them to be up to my standards, and i’m constantly updating what i have in my drafts because i plot out things that work better.

i respond to almost everyone that sends things into my asks or in my comments, i don’t always see it right when it’s sent, and i don’t always see them in my notifications tab because contrary to popular belief, it’s constantly active, so i eventually reply when i have more than ten minutes to myself. because when i do have free time, i’m not spending all of it on tumblr, i utilize my free time however i see fit. and i am writing constantly, it just gets drafted until i feel ready to post it. i have nearly 100 drafts.

i sincerely apologize if i come off as rude, that’s genuinely not my intention, i can have a very dry sense of humour and an abrasive personality at times, and i don’t always realize that people won’t always see it the way i do.

[sapphicslaylist]

HELLO YES T H ANK YOU FOR THIS

I was like holy shit am I the only one who sees how codependent he is. It isn’t a deliberate sense of harm so much as just him trying to be pacifist and affectionate, often trapping himself in a cycle of, subconsciously, fear of a lash out just as much as the princess is.

In Damsel, Burned Grey, HEA: You nailed it; I genuinely have nothing else to add. Excellent. Thank you.

Razor, MOC, Fury: You died horrifically and he was just one of many voices who arrived after & often experiences continuous slaughter therein. He notably discusses [paraphrasing this] MOC as cruel and merciful for even an ounce of kindness. He is literally grasping at straws for justification of why he is chaining himself to someone who’s hurt him and he’s hurt in turn so irreparably with the insistence that he needs to fix it. He’s similar to Broken in idolization & power; it’s devotion to someone with that over you. He MUST alter the script not only to break the cycle, but to SURVIVE. Yes, Smitten is a flawed survival voice. He just wants the bloodshed to stop.

Thorn: ABSOLUTELY CRUCIAL to his development. She is inverted Damsel. Damsel is his worst; it’s where he makes it horrible for everyone including himself by insisting he has control over the situation. In Thorn, he actually suits her needs and reads her signals properly as a cry for help (both physical & psychological, because let’s be honest Thorn is HELLA mental illness coded). She, like him, is begging to break the cycle and survive.

Much in the same way that Smitten is underappreciated as a survivalist, Thorn is indeed one of the Ferals™️ (Beast/Den, Witch/Thorn, & Wild). Everyone within that path are stripped of their perceived humanity, and have adapted to overcome it by gaining claws and teeth (Thorn still has hers; they’re just hidden beneath the guise of civility). She understands that you need to put your differences aside to get out.

Smitten, in this case, has understood the way that Witch operates. She is distrustful for a clear and obvious reason: you lie and turn to violence once she’s vulnerable. The blade exchange is a method of empathetic sacrifice when it gets right down to it — you’re showing that you’re not a threat. But she can’t trust you, despite longing for that to be the truth. So when it shows that you were serious about trying to be better, you’ve both went in for the kill and created a cycle where no one wins.

Thorn is, in the end, the Truth™️ Smitten is seeking. She proves everything that he’s fighting for, the real “happy fairytale story.” She’s a woman caught in a self-imposed snare who is actively wants help and reconnection. She has been molded to think critically of the situation, and still wants to be with you. She sets clear and vocal boundaries with you, which Smitten NOTES are clear and vocal (“she trusts us! She trusts us! We should be honored to gain even an ounce of it from a maiden so guarded” — I AM NOT saying that Damsel is “wrong” for not setting them; she does not know how). He actively defends her against the threats she cannot see while letting her take control, because she has a voice and he knows it. You can leave together seamlessly and break the situation to your will. You communicate. You both get what Smitten knows she wants and she doesn’t know how (“this one years for connections she thinks she doesn’t deserve”). She is the antithesis of HEA & Damsel. She’s aware. She’s the situation which proves everything Smitten is fighting for. If you slay her, you are bound for eternally. You both have to stop fighting and team up.

I have… Soooo many thoughts about HEA vs Thorn (notably, on the poster, Thorn holds the blade close to her chest wherein HEA actively flicks it away) and their situations with Smitten. Smitten is deeply psychologically complex and reacts to setting without understanding of Her unless it’s blatantly clear. Tl:dr someone needs to get this man some therapy and help him istg. He’s phenomenal when he’s able to read the situation and earthshattering when he is not.

Voice of the Smitten is a coping mechanism. (and so are the other voices)

The same thing applies to the rest of the voices, yes. But for my sanity, today, let's just talk about Smitten[I am ill about him].

Smitten is fixated on the Princess and on appeasing Her because he's born out of a belief that She's their only way to happiness and safety.

In Damsel's chapter 1, LQ establishes for themself that the Narrator is not a safe nor trustworthy person, but unlike Prisoner's ch1, instead of learning to be generally cautious and adopting an idea that there's no one they can fully trust, Quiet puts all of their trust into the Princess.

I strongly believe that, in order to shield themself from a dangerous, unclear, and scary reality, LQ dives into a sort of... 'fairytale' scenario. And that scenario, by extension, becomes the backbone of Smitten's whole worldview. He, just like the rest of the voices, is born out of a need for safety and control, and he knows of it as his purpose and his yearning. His mindset works as a mechanism that protects Quiet from a state of intense stress and discomfort.

So then, what is this mindset, exactly?

Well, for Smitten, expectations of certain roles appear. Roles that everyone has and needs to uphold: The Shining Knight, the Helpless Damsel, the Villain that's keeping them apart.

"Then you should know that we and the Princess are in love and the four of us will be foiling any and all assassination attempts you've got in the works."

These roles bring a sense of comfort. He has this vision of what the world is supposed to be, of what he's supposed to be. Fairytales always have happy endings, so with this vision, there comes a promise of everything working out.

"If he just makes everything go the way it's supposed to, then they'll be safe."

It gives Smitten the role of a protector, someone who controls the situation and wants the best for Quiet, as opposed to the Narrator who has an ulterior motive and clearly just wants to hurt them.

It gives him a sense of control.

So when something goes wrong, it feels like that control is yanked away, and that threatens his and LQ's safety. It takes away his happy ending that he tries so hard to keep.

"We'll get our happy ending, even if it damns each and every person who's ever lived!"

Another thing worth remembering is that the voices and LQ are at least under the impression that they haven't been living for very long. The only experiences they have to go off of, to learn from, are the ones we see in Chapter 1 and then on. To Smitten, the last time things went awry, they died horribly.

So it's no wonder he freaks out and feels like he has to push back for control. And that is also why he sees no problem with killing Quiet's body or even detaching himself from them entirely.

"Don't mind my sacrifice. It's a fair price to pay to give her everything she doesn't know she wants."

He places the responsibility for taking care of everyone on himself. Smitten is firmly under the impression that he "knows better". And he's even proven right a fair amount of times, which only solidifies the idea in his head.

"I told you! There's no life more worth living than that of a true believer!"

"I told you our love was insurmountable!"

But that also means Smitten unintentionally traps himself(and everyone around him) into a box, limiting his potential to just that, a shallow role. And that creates the feeling of inferiority.

His role is all there is to him, so if he can't uphold it, then it means there's something fundamentally wrong with him. It means he's failed.

In fact, Smitten seems to be laser-focused on his own shortcomings, at least when it comes to the Princess.

If She's somehow unhappy with anything Smitten has to offer, then it's not because She did something wrong, or because of some outside factor out of their control(he doesn't want to accept anything being out of his control, even if it would seemingly benefit him). No, it's because Smitten wasn't enough.

He idolizes Her while putting himself down.

"That's because she's perfect!"

It's a bit more complicated with The Long Quiet. On one hand, they are technically one person, but on the other, the voices like to distinguish themselves and seem to have a sense of their own identity.

If we take a look at one of Damsel's third chapters: The Burned Grey, Smitten is very distraught and angry at Quiet, and yet also berates himself at the same time.

"Ah, yes. The mirror. So we can see the monster we've become."

"No, my love! You did nothing wrong! I'm sorry! I'M SORRY, NOT YOU!"

So I think we can assume that it's a mix of both. He may feel angry at LQ but will ultimately blame himself.

Because it's his job to make sure everything went smoothly. It's his job to make sure that She was happy, because if She's happy – they're happy and they just threw all of his work away, but he was supposed to stop them. He was supposed to keep them happy.

He was supposed to keep them happy.

[highkey-lowkey-as-hell]

thinking about the fact that eris and jenny look exactly alike

[steddiealltheway]

Steve can see it in Max. That same loneliness and ache that he finds in himself. For him, it’s result of his parents leaving with no intent to return to him unless absolutely necessary.

He knows he was an accident. Or rather a mistake as his father used to call him when he was particularly angry. But it made sense to him. Steve's the reason his father had to marry his mother. He left him "trapped." And maybe no one says it out loud, but he can tell his mother feels the same way too.

But they must keep up appearances, right?

Which is what Max has been trying to do since Billy died, El moved away, and it's been just her and her mom. But she's been going about it through a different route - pushing people away all while pretending things are fine. But Steve sees the way she picks up the broken pieces of her mom and tries to put them back together - Steve's had to do the same thing before.

So, he starts sticking around a little longer. Offering her more rides to the arcade and around town to pick up groceries when she needs to. Sometimes he'll tell her about a new recipe he's been trying for a casserole and pick up the ingredients, pretending like the milk and butter he bought will spoil by the time he drives home from her trailer.

Of course, they both know it's a lie, but Max humors him and plays along. She'll let him cook dinner while she picks up the bottles her mom left on the floor, dumps out the overflowing ashtray, and feeds the dog. Usually, Steve will ask her what she's learning in school and linger a little longer than usual in hopes that she'll say more than the usual, "I don't know. A bunch of boring stuff."

But lingering has gotten a lot of things out of Max such as her love for Kate Bush, a story about El and how much she misses her, and short quips about Lucas before she gets a sad smile on her face. Steve doesn't really know what to say most of the time, but he hopes that just being there will help.

Unfortunately, lingering and just being there has led him to his current predicament of none other than Eddie "The Freak" Munson sitting on the hood of his car glaring at him as he walks out of Max's place. Steve jumps a little, startled by the figure on his car and becoming more hostile as he sees the expression on his face. He shoves his hands in his pockets and slows his pace. "Is there a problem?"

Eddie snorts humorlessly. "Christ. You're really going to pretend like there's nothing wrong with what's happening?"

Steve's brows furrow, entirely missing whatever point he's trying to make.

Eddie stands up and stalks toward him. "I see you, you know. Always lurking around when her mom isn't home. Coming out of her trailer late at night."

Steve laughs, finally understanding the absurd conclusion he's come to. "Jesus, man. You're delusional."

Steve doesn't expect it, but Eddie sharply shoves his chest and grits, "I don't fucking lie to me, Harrington."

Steve holds his hands up. "I'm not," he firmly states. "Nothing like that is happening here. I'm glad you're looking out for her, but it isn't like that."

"Do you expect me to believe that? Maybe this is why you're always hanging around Henderson and the other kids."

Steve crosses his arms and his jaw tenses. "I'm not a fucking pervert or a pedophile if that's what you're trying to say. I'm just looking after them."

"Why?" Eddie asks, dramatically opening his arms, "Why would King Steve adopt a group of misfits to take under his wing? See, the math isn't adding up."

Usually, Steve would just brush it off and tell the person to fuck off and mind their own business. But his parents have just left town again without leaving a note and Max had snapped when Steve tried to help her clean the place because it looked worse than usual, and he was just generally feeling like shit and angry at his parents and Max's parents for not being there. So he broke, "Because I don't want Max to end up like me! I don't want any of those kids to grow up without a role model. And god forbid if any of those other kids' parents fuck up, and they’re left with only me. I need them to know that I'm there for them! Because sometimes it feels like whenever the world goes to shit, I'm the only one who is there, and I plan to stay there, okay?!"

He finishes his rant breathing a little heavier than usual and noticing that a few of the lights in the trailers have turned on around them. He looks around and awkwardly nods to the people glaring out their windows. God, he needs to get a grip.

When he turns back to Eddie, he notices the conflicted expression, jaw dropped, eyebrows knitted together, eyes searching him as if he's still wondering if he's lying.

A door creaks open behind them and Steve curses under his breath as he hears Max say, "Eddie, leave him alone. Do you really think I would hook up with my damn babysitter? Jeez."

"Language," Steve quietly lectures as the door swings shut. He runs his hands over his face and takes a deep breath. It's been a long fucking day.

A hand lands on his arm and tugs him away from Max's trailer. Steve glances up at Eddie, leading him across the way. "Where are we going?"

"My place," Eddie says.

"Why?"

"So we can talk."

God, the last thing he wants to do is talk to Eddie of all people, the guy he's been actively avoiding since Dustin started worshipping the ground - or rather tables - he walks on. But he lets himself be pulled away in the trailer and practically deposited on the couch in the living room.

He glances up and comments, "That's a lot of mugs."

"My uncle's, but that's not what I wanted to... Christ," Eddie says, pacing in front of Steve and tugging his hair in front of his face. The anxious display makes Steve feel even more tired, but he lets him pace. God, what is he even doing here?

"I'm sorry," Eddie blurts out. "I'm just..." he trails off and rushes over to grab a stool a few feet away before dragging it in front of the couch. He sits on it but his leg still holds that nervous energy as it rapidly bounces up and down. "I jumped to conclusions, and it was really shitty of me, man. I just... didn't believe what Henderson was saying about you and thought 'Oh, this makes way more sense than Steve Harrington being a good dude.' And I'm sorry to accuse you of that. And I... I didn't know about your... parents and stuff. Like I knew they were away a lot because of your parties but... I just never connected the dots. And I'm sorry. No one deserves that shit, man."

Steve doesn't know what to do this whole interaction, especially with it coming from Eddie Munson who he doesn't think he's ever talked to before this moment, but... he needs to hear it. God, he needs to hear it.

Of course, he can't let him know this, so he does what he's best at and brushes it off. "It's fine. You were just looking out for the kids. And really just ignore what I said back there, it isn't that big of a deal."

Eddie worries his bottom lip before he blurts out, "I know what it's like." He pauses and takes a deep breath. "I mean, I know what it's like to have... absent parents. But in my case, eventually, my uncle Wayne took me in, and I can only imagine if he didn't." He gives him a pointed look and lowers his voice, "Do you have someone like that?"

A big part of Steve wants to leave right now, and he knows there's nothing stopping him. But a bigger part of him needs to stay. Needs to talk about the emptiness in his house that he can never truly escape at the end of the day that he can’t talk to anyone about. Because he's not supposed to be weak. He's supposed to take care of the others. So he admits, "No, I don't have... anyone like that. Except Robin but..."

"That's different," Eddie finishes the thought for him.

Steve nods. He loves Robin, but he loves her as a platonic soulmate and not as a parent figure in his life. "You know, I once had this basketball coach in middle school - Mr. Weston. And I remember looking up to him so much. I wanted to be just like him, and I would go to his office during lunch and ask him for advice or talk about dumb shit that my father would never talk about. But he never shamed me for my questions. And sometimes he even packed an extra dessert for me." Steve smiles at the memories and runs a hand through his hair, remembering the day he got the news. "But one time, when I went to his office, he had this look on his face. And I just knew it was bad news. And really, it wasn't bad news to him because his wife was pregnant. But she wanted to move a few states away to raise the kid closer to her family. And it wasn't his fault, you know? It wasn't like he purposely chose to move away from me, but I felt like I was abandoned again."

Steve wipes a tear from his eye and puts his head in his hands. "God, I don't know why I'm even telling you this story. Sorry."

"Don't apologize," Eddie says quickly. He pauses and shifts on the stool, his gaze being far away. "I remember him. He was one of the only gym teachers that defended me against all the shitty middle school bullies. He was a good person.”

Steve nods. God, he was a good person.

Eddie continues, “I'm sorry that he left. And I bet he still regrets leaving you behind."

Steve leans back against the couch and looks away, shaking his head. "I bet he forgot about me."

"You're kind of hard to forget."

Steve looks at Eddie and sees a slight blush on his cheeks as he shakes his head and waves his hands as if trying to make the comment go away. "What I mean is that there's no way he's forgotten about you. Someone who you used to have lunch with all the time to the point of giving you free food... Nah, man. He remembers you. I think you may have been as important to him as he was to you."

The thought breaks away at a wall Steve had built up long ago. "Thanks," he practically whispers.

Eddie just smiles at him, small dimples appearing on his cheeks.

"You didn't deserve it either, you know," Steve says. "The absent parent stuff. Even with Wayne, they should've been here too."

Eddie's smile falters a bit as he swallows and looks at the ground. "Thanks," he mumbles. He looks up at Steve and comments, "Getting sappy with Steve Harrington. Who knew."

"Yeah, getting sappy with Eddie Munson," Steve echoes back at him.

Eddie laughs, "I'm surprised you even know my name."

"You're kind of hard to forget," Steve says easily.

That same blush comes back to Eddie who shifts in his chair a bit as if he needs to process the information with his whole body.

They sit in the moment for a bit before Eddie gets a somewhat serious look on his face and offers, "You know, I'm definitely not a parent figure or anything, but I'm always here and around to talk about that whole thing if you need to."

Steve's heart beats a little faster at the sheer genuineness. "Same here," he can't help but offer in return. He glances down at his watch and sighs, "It's getting late, so I better..."

"Right," Eddie says, standing up and leading him to the door. "Do you need water for the road or anything?"

Steve smiles and pats him on the back without thinking too hard about it. "I'm good, man. But thank you. For everything really."

"Sorry for being an asshole," Eddie apologizes again.

"Usually that's my line," Steve accidentally voices before cringing a bit, wondering further why Eddie's been so kind to him.

But as he opens the door, Eddie comments, "I don't know. It seems like Dustin was right about the whole reformed jock thing. Maybe your crown really has fallen - which is a good thing by the way."

Steve slightly smiles at him before he turns to leave. But he can't help but say, "I wonder what the neighbors will think about me leaving your trailer so late."

Eddie groans then laughs. "Sorry to ruin your image."

"I wouldn't mind," Steve replies, honestly unsure what he means by that. "Goodnight, Eddie."

"Goodnight, Steve," Eddie says, that same blush on his cheeks, only this time Steve isn't sure if it's something he said or a result of the cold night air.

In bed that night, Steve feels a slight weight lifted from him and can't help but feel like he’s a little less alone.

[rystiel]

would things have been different if stan told ford? will things be different since mabel told dipper?

[babybells123]

I’m obsessed with them already