#but i wanted to more than i was afraid to and i also asked someone for advice and it helped me

[majikkulu]

━━ ❝MASTERLIST❞

in this pick-a-card reading, we’ll dive into what people really have to say about you—whether it’s glowing praise or secret whispers. what’s the tea they spill when you’re not around? remember, this is a general reading — take what resonates and leave the rest.

if  you  have  any  ideas  for  tarot  pacs  you'd  like  me  to  do,  feel  free  to  drop  them  in  my  ask  box,  and  i'll  make  it  happen!

choose the picture or pile that calls to you and let the magic unfold!

PILE ONE i  can  tell  this  pile  feels  personal—what  people  say  about  you  hits  close  to  home.  they  think  you're  indecisive,  struggling  to  take  action  or  follow  through  on  what  you  said  you'd  do.  it  frustrates  them;  they  feel  like  you  can’t  commit  to  certain  things.  some  even  say  you’re  guarded,  mysterious,  hard  to  read.  and  that  only  makes  them  more  curious—what’s  really  beneath  all  of  that?  there’s  also  this  idea  that  you  avoid  confrontation,  preferring  to  stay  neutral.  while  some  see  that  as  wise,  others  view  it  as  passivity,  like  you’re  afraid  to  stand  your  ground.  interestingly,  one  specific  person  seems  to  stand  out  here.  they’re  obsessively  focused  on  you,  constantly  talking  about  you.  they  might  discuss  things  you’ve  been  through—maybe  toxic  relationships,  bad  habits,  or  difficult  patterns.  but  it’s  not  all  criticism.  a  lot  of  people  are  fascinated  by  you.  they  find  you  magnetic,  charming,  even  alluring.  some  are  jealous,  though.  they  notice  your  sensitivity—maybe  they’ve  seen  you  cry  or  assume  you’re  the  type  to  cry  in  public.  they  might  even  think  you  look  younger  than  you  are,  which  makes  them  wonder  about  your  age.  there’s  also  talk  about  your  creativity.  whether  it’s  how  you  dress  or  how  you  express  yourself  artistically,  it  leaves  an  impression.  and  then  there’s  the  assumption  that  you’ve  “got  it  all.”  some  think  you’re  rich  or  incredibly  successful,  even  if  you  don’t  feel  that  way  yourself.  maybe  something  big  happened  recently—an  achievement,  a  win,  or  an  opportunity  that  others  wanted.  it’s  clear  they  see  your  potential,  and  that  potential  is  both  admired  and  envied.  people  question  if  it’s  luck  or  hard  work  that  gets  you  where  you  are.

PILE TWO people  talk  about  how  cautious  you  are,  how  you  take  your  time  with  everything,  and  how  you  question  every  little  detail.  to  them,  it  might  come  off  as  overly  slow  or  even  boring  because  you’re  not  impulsive.  they  see  you  as  someone  who  hesitates  or  spends  too  long  planning  before  acting,  and  some  might  say  you’re  no  fun  because  of  it.  they  notice  how  you  like  to  have  a  plan  for  everything,  but  they  don’t  realize  that  beneath  that  calm  surface  lies  an  inner  beast—a  strength  they  can’t  begin  to  comprehend.  you  handle  things  with  patience  and  emotional  control,  and  people  see  that.  they  talk  about  how  calm  you  remain,  even  in  serious  or  emotional  situations.  it’s  like  nothing  can  shake  you,  and  that  composure  either  impresses  or  frustrates  them.  some  gossip  that  your  strength  borders  on  stubbornness,  but  let’s  be  real—that  envy  stems  from  wishing  they  had  the  kind  of  self-control  you  do.  there’s  competition  swirling  around  you,  even  if  you  don’t  see  it.  people  notice  how  you  deal  with  disagreements  and  conflicts.  you’re  unbothered,  and  that  drives  them  crazy.  they  might  talk  about  how  you’re  not  afraid  to  speak  up,  even  if  it  causes  tension.  they  focus  on  how  you  defend  yourself,  how  you  never  back  down,  even  in  situations  where  others  think  you  should.  they  see  you  as  determined,  standing  firm  in  your  beliefs  and  decisions,  and  that  resilience  makes  some  people  misunderstand  or  even  resent  you.  it’s  funny,  though—they  think  you  provoke  them  with  how  you  respond  or  even  just  with  your  presence.  your  energy  bothers  them,  but  that’s  their  problem,  not  yours.  you  stand  your  ground,  and  that’s  what  really  sets  you  apart.

PILE THREE people  gossip  a  lot  about  your  quiet  nature  and  what’s  going  on  in  your  life  behind  the  scenes.  they’re  curious  about  what  you’re  up  to,  especially  since  you  keep  things  so  private.  it’s  like  your  silence  sparks  endless  speculation.  some  even  find  you  suspicious,  questioning  your  motives,  intentions,  or  honesty—accusing  you  of  being  manipulative  or  using  tricks.  there’s  talk  about  you  avoiding  confrontation  or  shying  away  from  taking  responsibility,  and  for  some,  this  feeds  into  the  narrative  of  you  being  a  liar.  there’s  a  sense  that  you’ve  distanced  yourself  from  people,  maybe  even  withdrawn  completely.  this  makes  others  wonder  what  you’re  searching  for—your  purpose  or  direction  in  life.  your  quietness,  while  intriguing,  can  make  you  hard  to  approach.  some  feel  like  they  can’t  fully  connect  with  you,  as  if  you’re  masking  your  true  self  or  staying  intentionally  detached.  on  the  other  side,  there  are  those  who  admire  you.  they  see  you  as  wise  and  insightful,  someone  who  remains  calm  and  composed  even  under  pressure.  your  guarded  nature  and  emotional  detachment  make  you  magnetic  in  a  way  that  draws  people  in,  even  if  they  don’t  fully  understand  you.  they  gossip  about  how  cautious  and  hesitant  you  are  to  take  bold  risks,  calling  you  predictable.  yet,  they  also  acknowledge  your  ability  to  handle  life’s  ups  and  downs  with  grace  and  poise.  whether  people  envy,  misunderstand,  or  admire  you,  it’s  clear  that  your  energy  leaves  a  lasting  impression.

[robo-writing]

hihi friend <3333 requesting something a little more different bc as someone who loves a good breeding kink (in form of dirty talk and dirty talk only!!) i still do not EVER want kids and cannot fathom the whole birth process. can i ask for what logan’s reaction would be a reader who doesn’t want kids?

maybe they’re not that established in their relationship and they’re fooling around (awink) and when logan brings out the breeding talk she just kinda panics and pushes him off/uses her safe word because she does NOT want kids

like i said kinda different but ur one of my fav logan writers and i can’t find anything like this so i wanted to request it 🫠 🫶🏼

As someone who also doesn’t want kids but has a massive breeding kink, real. (Also FAVORITE???? EEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKK)

Logan with an s/o who doesn’t want kids!

✦ To be entirely honest, Logan never thought of himself as a fatherly type, hell, he never thought of himself even staying in a relationship long enough to even have kids.

✦ You however, are the exception.

✦ He can see himself growing old for once, more importantly, he can see himself growing old with you.

✦ So is it surprising that somewhere along the line instead of just you and him, he started imagining a kid hanging off you too?

✦ He wouldn’t even know how to bring it up, and he’s still of the belief that he’d be a god awful father

✦ But if you’d have him, he’d try his damndest to be the best father a kids ever gonna have

✦ He doesn’t tell you that he’s even thought of having a kid, too afraid to bring it up in case you get scared

✦ But one night it accidentally slips out while he’s got you pinned under him

✦ It really was an accident, you just sounded so good and you were squeezing his cock just perfectly—

✦ Something inside him snaps, tears it’s way to the forefront of his mind, eyes fixated where his cock almost bulges against your stomach—

✦ Right where you’d be carrying his kid

✦ He bows over you, practically covers you with his body, head bent and panting into your ear like a wild animal.

✦ He’s not totally aware of himself, almost as if he’s a spectator; he feels everything, maybe even too much.

✦ You’re scratching at his back, moaning his name so pretty, begging him for more, more, don’t stop, please—

✦ It was an accident when he holds you by the hips, growls in your ear—not gonna stop, not until I’ve put a kid in you.

✦ You’re always the most beautiful thing he’s laid eyes on but for that moment, when you locked your legs and begged him to breed you, you looked like Aphrodite herself. The way you milked him for all he’s worth, he’s not sure he’ll ever reach a high like that again.

✦ The next morning he wakes up beside you, a dopey smile on his face when he sees the evidence of your love-making on every inch of you.

✦ His hickeys, fresh and dark, painted across your neck, all the way to your collarbone.

✦ Quite simply, you look like you got attacked

✦ However, even better than those was the proof of his love, your cum-stained thighs, just slightly spread apart as you slept.

✦ He won’t lie, it took him more than a bit of self-control not to take you again after seeing that.

✦ Lucky for him, your eyes fluttered open before he could pursue that train of thought.

“G’mornin’” you groan, stretching your very sore body. When you feel the remnants of last nights affairs on your skin it’s as if a switch is flipped, the slight frown on your face, the hesitant look you give as you quickly waddle to the bathroom—he did something wrong, he just doesn’t know what yet.

He waits until after the waters stopped, giving you a peace offering in the form of his t-shirts. It overshadows you, but it’ll do.

“Did I do something wrong?” He asks nervously. Logan’s never been good at talking much, but he tries his best when it comes to you.

“No, no,” you deny, but it’s written on your face. You can barely look at him, fiddling with the ends of his shirt.

“You sure? Because you ran out of bed like a bat out of hell.”

Again, you can’t seem to keep your eyes on him. “It’s not you per se, I mean…”

“Say it,” he insists. “I can handle it.”

A pause. “Did you mean what you said last night?”

Even the mention of last night makes his body tingle, the remains of each and every memory fresh in his mind. There’s a lop-sided smile on his face when he answers, lackadaisical even. “I said a LOT of things last night darling, you’re gonna have to be specific here.”

You bit your lips nervously. “What you said about being pregnant.”

Oh, he thinks, and now the shoes finally dropped. At the time you seemed enthusiastic, but looking at you now…you look scared out of your mind.

He’s quick to move closer, inviting you to sit beside him with a couple taps to the bed. The moment you do he’s got you in his arms, making sure he can feel you relax before he says a word.

“Darling, be honest with me, do you want to have kids?”

You tense in his hold, both dread and fear evident in your voice. “I don’t know? Maybe in the future?”

“Maybe ain’t an answer.” He says, stroking your hair. “No need to lie.”

You should’ve known Logan would see right through you. You shake your head with a sigh, unwilling to look at him in fear of the disappointment you’re certain is painted on his features.

“…Not really, no. But if you wanted them—“

“Stop, don’t finish that,” he sighs. “If you don’t want kids, then that’s it. No kids.”

Shock, relief, a flurry of emotions take hold of you when you pull away, staring him down for any hint of dishonesty. Your heart soars when you don’t find any.

“Are you sure? Because it didn’t seem that way last night,” you stutter, and he’s quick to soothe your worries.

A quick peck to your lips, and he makes himself crystal clear. “Listen to me, I’m not gonna force ya to do something you don’t wanna do. If you don’t want kids then there’s nothing to worry about, I’m not an asshole.”

Your eyes almost water, the weight of fear lifting off your shoulders as you weakly chuckle. “Y’know, the amount of times I’ve had this conversation—it always ends in a break up. This is…really refreshing, honestly.”

“You’ve been dating a bunch of assholes,” he taunts, kissing your temple. “Don’t worry though, you’ve got me.”

“And you’re not an asshole?” You chuckle, leaning forward to kiss him.

“Mhm,” he mumbles. “Not to you, at least.”

As he does so, he makes it a point to pull you closer, bury his face into your neck and inhale. “Even if you don’t want kids, I still get to breed ya, right?”

[xxgoldie]

i’d like to say this is NOT a request i do just be yapping because you're such an inspiration to me!! thinking about a scenario where lighter gets injured protecting his s/o…him downplaying or ignoring his injury until its just the two of you, and when you’re fussing over him and dressing his wounds he’s gently thumbing away your tears and telling you all the sweet nothings about how it’d take a lot more than that to get rid of him, where’s your faith in the red scarf? he’s okay baby it looks worse than it actually is. 

trying to be calm for your sake but he’s so shaken up internally because if he hadn’t jumped in he might’ve lost you…and at the same time, seeing you cry over a guy like him? wrapping him up with such care like he hasn’t broken bodies with his bare hands? he’s so overwhelmed and when you’re done disinfecting and bandaging and try to leave his side for any reason he’s wrapping you up in his big scarred arms and he won't let go for anything. please just stay right here where he can nuzzle against your pulse and smell your shampoo and feel your warmth.

every wet little sniffle from you is met with a kiss from him, he turns your face into a mural for his love, peppering kisses of relief and apology alike across your forehead, temple, cheeks, and nose. and when your lips finally meet it’s like you’re breathing life back into him, he can’t get enough. suddenly nothing is enough. he’s gently coaxing your clothes off because he needs you closer, needs to feel your bare chest against his so he knows your hearts are pounding in tandem. if you try to deny him because of his wounds he’s not afraid to beg, you can ride him as slow and careful as you want he just needs you. ughghgh slow soft emotional sex with lighter where neither of you care about actually getting off has me in a chokehold

i'm,,,,, i'm an inspiration?? anon i will kiss you on the mouth that's like the best thing anyone's ever said to me

the rest of this ask is a close second bc oh my god. soft comfort sex w lighter.

trying so hard to keep it together for him, because he's the one injured, why is he the one comforting you? you're scolding him for being reckless but your heart isn't in it, he sees the way your hands shake as you dress his wounds ever so gently and the tears threatening to spill over, and he's also trying to hold himself together because it doesn't look like you could handle him in any worse state. and that fact alone makes that knot in his chest tighten, how much you care for him, the fact he's lucky enough to love someone so much and have them love him back and he was so close to losing that. he's forcing himself not to think about what would have happened if he'd jumped in just a little later, because the brave face he's putting on is holding on by a thread. he really just wants you as close as possible, needs to feel your skin against skin, needs there to be no doubt that you're still there, and you need the same.

[sanguineterrain]

Sanne on the topic of femjay... do u think she'd like giving gifts? I feel like she's the type to shower u in gifts and act like it's nbd she didn't even think about it when she got it for u (she is lying)

ok anon I'm pretty sure this isn't what you meant buuut it's kinda related? anyway i was inspired so please enjoy awkward arkham knight femjay who doesn't know how to interact with her old best friend/girlfriend when she returns from the dead so she starts leaving gifts instead. i ❤️ my weirdo wife

ak!female!jason todd x fem!reader.

****

Someone has been leaving you presents.

Normally, you'd be freaked out. Probably, you should be freaked out anyway. How someone knows your exact dress size and what chocolate you like and your favorite flowers and your birthstone... well, it would scare anyone.

But. But the thing is. Every gift and every placement of the gift feels very familiar. It feels like the habit of an old love. Because she used to do the same. Pretty rocks or flowers found on patrol. A t-shirt for the band you liked. A kiss.

It feels like training, like muscle memory: here is how to break in without breaking anything. Here is how to leave a scene undisturbed. Lessons that a friend shared with you.

A friend you loved. A friend you mourned.

The dresses are beautiful and certainly not cheap. But they have a familiarity to their design. They're extravagant, fairytale dresses that you dreamt of wearing when you were young. Dresses you have no reason to wear now.

They aren't revealing or risqué either, and that comforts you too, even though it probably shouldn't. Bruce would be upset at your lack of self-preservation.

This is you living in the past. This is hoping for the impossible.

The jewelry is also beautiful and nothing you could wear to work or to a grocery trip. It's all necklaces and bracelets heavy with diamonds or emeralds or sapphires. But there's a single ruby ring you've received, and it's plainer than everything else. You wear that regularly, even though that definitely encourages your admiring stalker.

The gift-giving is random but they never go more than two weeks without a visit. And there's no note, no demand, nothing. It's like you have an invisible pet raven who likes bringing you trinkets that cost more than your rent.

After the seventh gift, you plan a trap. You want to face this admirer, show that you're not afraid. Well, you're a little afraid. Mostly, it's fear at the fact that you haven't called the police or Batman, even though you and Batman haven't been simpatico for a long time.

No, something stops you. The hand that leaves your gifts is a hand you know. You're certain of it.

You set up a camera behind your shuttered closet, then leave for the day.

You return to the camera gone and a beautiful gold carved statue of a dove. And a note.

Not yet.

Well, fine. You can wait. You're mad because that camera wasn't cheap, but you can wait.

Weeks pass. Gifts arrive. You make a batch of cookies as a thank you on one occasion. Three cookies are missing when you come home. You smile.

Then the night comes.

You don't know how you know it's the night you'll meet them. You just have a feeling. You've written them notes, certain they've been received. No notes have arrived for you besides the one from all those weeks ago.

You put on one of the dresses, a delicate, frilly blue creation that shows your shoulders and neck. You finish it with the sapphire necklace, one of the first gifts you received.

She slips in through your window and freezes when she sees you, even though you know she timed it so you'd be home when she came.

"Hi," you say.

She doesn't speak. She approaches you slowly, carefully. She's very tall, very muscular. Her face is covered with an intricate helmet and she wears similar armor on her body. A new hero in Gotham? Or a villain?

"Do I know you?" you ask.

She shakes her head. You study her for a moment. Glowing eyes stare back. You can't tell if she's lying. It seems like she means it: you don't know her.

"But you know me?"

Your admirer hesitates. Then she nods.

You close the distance until you're a foot apart. Her breathing remains steady but her fingers are restless.

"I like the gifts," you say. "Though I'm confused why you're giving them to me."

Her fingers still. She says nothing.

"A friend used to give me gifts too," you say quietly.

You're both startled. Why did you say that? You don't know.

"You don't want to hurt me," you say.

She shakes her head fiercely.

Suddenly, you want her to touch you. You lift your head and expose your neck. You can tell she's tracking the movement. It sends a thrill down your spine. Maybe something's wrong with both of you.

"Do you like your necklace on me?" you ask.

Touch it. Touch me. Prove you aren't a ghost.

You hear her swallow and inhale shakily. She reaches for you and lightly touches the gold chain around your neck with one gloved finger. You close your eyes. A name falls from your lips. God, you miss her.

The window creaks. You open your eyes. She is gone.

[le-chevalier-au-lion]

the game lasts 14 hours: rosquez [e], part 1

Marc had been dreaming—yes, dreaming is a good word for it. One minute, he’d been upright on the bike, panting like a dog inside his sweat-damp helmet, Pecco half a heartbeat behind, the grandstands around Sepang a blur of color and heat-fuzzy people. The next, he thinks he’d been down, or dead.

Now there’s someone hammering on his door. Hard enough he can feel it pulse on his teeth, on the tips of his fingers that are cold and numb.

His eyes are gritty. Everything about his body moves a heartbeat too slow, unresponsive. It takes Marc a moment to drag himself upright, to convince his legs to move. Dead fits better, he is sure of it.

The pounding becomes deafening. Marc forces air into his lungs once, twice—and off he goes. He swings the door open, almost closes it again once he sees who’s there. He could be dreaming, still. Or very high on the good painkillers.

“Marc,” Valentino croaks.

He’s panicking—maybe. Probably. It’s there in his wide, watery eyes, in his hands, wobbly and clammy. He jitters, looms on Marc’s doorway shaking worse than an addict.

“You have to believe me,” Valentino spits once it becomes clear Marc won’t speak. One-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three, his fingers tap on the wall. His mouth pulls to the side, like he sucked on something sour. “I’m in a time loop, it’s—”

“Alright,” Marc cuts him, “do you want to come in?”

Valentino blinks. His shoulders jump, grow stiff, and he sways a step back before he remembers himself.

“You always say that.”

There’s a strain in Valentino’s voice, a knot unswallowed. Marc wonders if he should bring that up, decides against it. It’s easier to move to the side, invite Valentino in wordlessly. He should ask how he got his room number, how he bribed the staff to let him come up.

Or not. It wouldn’t be that surprising.

Valentino stumbles like a baby deer, all long, uncooperative legs. Sweat prickles on his throat, on his forehead. His gray shirt is fucking soaked with it. He looks—it must be said—like shit.

“You look like shit,” Marc decides to inform him. It’s a little—mostly—because he can’t think of anything else to fill the silence. He never can.

“You always say that too,” he scoffs.

Offense is better than panic—Marc hates when people panic around him. And it makes Valentino suck in a breath, convulsive, short, and then another, one more after that, each one easier. The minutes tickle by until he collapses into a plush arm chair, a puppet with his strings cut, sleeplessness carved into the bags under his eyes, into the gray sallowness of his face.

Marc checks the clock on the wall, the aggressive, bleeding red of the numbers. 05:13 AM. It’s early, still, but he needs to go on a run, have breakfast with Álex, sit down with his crew to smooth out his tire choice. Five points between him and Pecco, he can’t afford to make a mistake.

He doesn’t have time for Valentino going on a full freak-out, and yet—

“You believe me.”

Marc sighs, gets around brewing himself a mug of coffee. Only one, he isn’t sure if Valentino should be taking any caffeine when he’s this close to a heart attack. It’d be funny, for this to be a loop where he dies so early, doesn’t learn anything from it.

“You don’t contradict senile people.” He’s smiling, a little, a sharp grin tucked on the corner of his mouth.

Ha ha, Valentino barks. He’s clinging to the armchair so hard the fake leather creaks under his bitten bloody nails. “You believe me. I know you do.”

It isn’t usually this difficult to not be an asshole before 7 in the morning.

Marc could be cruel—it’s not often he gets to catch Valentino wrong-footed, genuine. His anger is so mirror smooth, an opaque, enchanting thing. Few people can dig into him and make it hurt. He could be much kinder, too. Say something like you’re obviously afraid, it’s not the time to question anything, of course I’d help.

Not a good idea. There’s a timeline where Valentino punches him for that, he thinks.

Marc is also very tired of offering kindness to Valentino.

He swallows. “Let’s say I do.”

Valentino lets out this noise—like Marc stabbed him right between the ribs, right where it hurts. It’s the thing about him, one of the worst ones. Doesn’t he know that a good third of Marc’s life has been spent dealing with what he says? Rolling with those wild fairytales, bracing for the next hit.

It sticks to the roof of his mouth. I believe you believe that, soothing in the same twist where it’s mocking, an oystershell of the unkindness that Marc has been rehearsing once he stopped showing his soft underbelly.

“Is this the first time you’re coming to me?” He asks, raises an eyebrow.

“No.”

“Really?”

Valentino hums an unwilling assent, kisses his teeth. The sharp tsk sound is so familiar that Marc feels like he was plucked from his body, tossed ten, eleven years ago. The sense of vertigo has him braced against the narrow, non-descript counter, watching out for the trickle of coffee that will—maybe—ground him. He’s an optimist.

“Twenty-six,” he huffs out, scowls. It sounds like it was pried from him laboriously.

The coffee machine beeps. Marc does the unwise thing and turns his back on Valentino, fiddles with the buttons. He will take it with sugar today. He fucking deserves a spoon or two, something sweet to soften the blows.

“I’m guessing I’m not exactly helpful.”

Marc feels a hand pressed between his shoulder blades, hot as a brand, that touch raking over his nerve endings even through the protection of a shirt. It’s proprietary, tugs on his guts like a fishhook. His insides might as well spill out, redredred and so overly honest it hurts. He flinches, remembers he shouldn’t have. His mouth twists, lips pressed together.

Everything suddenly aches.

“Are you ever,” Valentino breathes out because he never had a problem with being cruel.

It’s easier to hold on to that—it’s the gentleness that has Marc grinding his teeth, dull pulses of pain settling in his jaw.

He closes his eyes, then forces them open—you can’t run from a tricky corner, or from Valentino. “Any reason in particular you’re messi—”

“I’m not messing up with your weekend,” Valentino hisses. Time loop, right. Marc is still annoyed at being interrupted.

But his face is so close, Marc can spot each new wrinkle, the skin of his earlobe sagging under the weight of his earring, the patchy, half-shaved stubble on his oddly cadaveric cheeks. He forgets to not be charmed, forgets how abrasive Valentino can be.

“In my experience, you typically are,” he counters, mostly to be difficult.

Valentino’s face spasms. Marc counts down the seconds until he hardens, becomes a naked blade under sunlight. His expression crystalizes into his usual mask, except for his bottom lip wobbling, the manic glint in his horribly blue eyes.

“Allora, it’s always a fight with you.”

“Something like that, yeah.”

Marc curls his hand around his mug, sinks into the heat radiating against his palm. Valentino tightens his grip on his shirt, turns him around. He has to look up—if it’s through his lashes, well, it’s so very early, and he hasn’t taken his coffee yet, and he’s bleary and good as dead.

Neither of them speak.

It’s 05:28 AM, the clock cheerfully informs him. He needs to get going, or he won’t have time to go on his run.

Marc doesn’t move. Valentino keeps him boxed against the counter, gripping his arms. It’ll bruise. His bones creak under that hold, but it’s the closest to tethered he’s felt in a while. He lulls himself into that false security, knowing it’ll bite, knowing he’ll take the bite anyway.

“So why come to me?” He asks, once the silence grows boring, once it starts gnawing on his sanity.

Valentino lets out this laugh—a little hysterical, choked. “It’s not my first choice. Uccio tries to give me Alprazolam and Luca tells me to go back to bed.”

Marc hums, faux-commiserating. “It’s good advice, have you tried it?”

“Right?” He keeps laughing or making that noise that looks like a laugh and sounds like it’s tearing him apart stitch by stitch. Marc could try looking into it, divining the omens of his day on his spilled guts.

Or—

“What happens next?”

He wants to know what Valentino will say today—it’s his favorite part of any game they play, getting roped into those stories. Falling for Valentino’s deranged Cesar on death row charm.

This time, Valentino skips the charm. Marc wishes he weren’t so disappointed.

“You’re going to die.” He nods, yes and?

Valentino grows stiff, death-serious, mouth wrenched in a snarl that bares his sharp canines. The press of his fingers goes from settling to a permanent ache, right over the place where he broke and didn’t heal right. It’s good, the kind of pain Marc can sink into and enjoy, constant, so dear by now.

“You can’t not care. You believe me.”

He smiles—bland, strained around the edges. His face feels like clay. “There’s always tomorrow, no?”

It’s a joke. Almost one. Marc has barely spoken when he notices how flat it falls, how he misses the apex of comedic timing by a mile.

There’s barely enough time to set his coffee on the counter. Valentino crowds into him, or wrenches him closer. They’re chest to chest like this. Blurring into each other, Valentino’s thumb splayed over the longest scar on his arm, Marc panting hotly over his protruding collarbone.

“You just don’t—”

“Valentino,” he sighs.

Marc has—they’re both bleeding, the walls of his hotel room pressing into him grimy and suffocating like a slaughterhouse floor. It’s too much blood, too much history, too much. Marc has made him angry. The ugly anger. A knotted mess Valentino can’t smoke-and-mirrors his way through, that pours out of his flashing eyes, his grinding teeth, his hands digging into Marc like he’ll crack open his ribs.

He doesn’t remember how many times he’s seen it before. Not many. Valentino is pathologically non-confrontational, his smiles slick and meaningless right as he lines a shot. Maybe he’s losing his mind, fraying, shattering.;

And maybe Marc is losing his mind too. I got you, he thinks, triumphant—the poisonous, acrid triumph of racing even when his arm twists like it’s trying to kill him. He still can make Valentino lose his footing. No one else but him.

“You’re going to die,” Valentino repeats, takes a step away from Marc like he’s scalding. He starts pacing, a caged thing, a Russian doll of nervous ticks. “It’s going to be—it’s going to be fucking terrible. It’s going to hurt. Why isn’t that enough for you?”

Marc looks—briefly—heavenward. Valentino scoffs.

And that’s it. Another one.

“How many times have you gone over today?” He asks, hopeful and hating himself for that hope.

Valentino smirks—like he has a knife tucked between his lips, joylessly, scraped raw. “Once or twice. It’s not like you ever take it seriously.”

The sound of the door slamming closed echoes in his chest. Marc tries to breathe, fails. Has to bend over the counter, the cold marble a blessing against his overheated skin. The chilly shock hoists back to his own body, but the nausea remains, a mouthful of thorns and bile he can’t swallow.

He wishes that Valentino would answer once—just once—how long he’s been on a time loop.

But he can’t linger too long on that. Marc has to go out now, go on a run, have breakfast with Álex, talk with his crew about his tires, die on T5 of lap 12.

Ater sixty-two runs, he’s pretty damn good at it.

[boofeine]

Heyyyy I really love your writing and I think it fits the members very well

I am not sure if you do these types of request but are you okay with writing headcanons on Jeonghan's personality? Like just his personality in general? Are you okay with adding some spicy (I didn't know which other word I was supposed to use) ones at the end? How would he be like? I am a very weird person and I love analysing people's personality and jeonghan happens to be my main interest these days lol. You can do it through tarot if you want!! You of course know better than me lol and I am completely alright if you don't wanna do my request. I will still love you lol

helloo!! u r def not weird at all!! as a psychology major bb i also love analyzing ppl :)))) — i won't work with tarot for now bc next year im planning on open requests just for it. one more thing I've done tarot in their persona in bed over here !

Jh's personality – headcanons

WARNINGS: mdni under the cut, descriptive and mention of sexual subjects

jeonghan gives me best friends vibes... he looks calm, almost indifferent, but he just looks like he loves to peep with you, to talk for hours and go grab meals together. he reminds me of family.

you know his lives just eating, joking around and talking... that's exactly how he is with his friends. obviously, he's more reserved because it's with us, but i feel he is all out with his friends. that one friend that literally doesn't know when to stop the teasing and goes overboard, but it's funny nonetheless... especially when he's drunk.

prefers to do meetings at his home with homemade barbecue and beverages. or going to a restaurant with his close friends. not the club type 100%. he likes the introspective meetings.

cocky and flirty for fun :/

so so so so caring!!!!!! the type of person you'd choose to say your deepest secrets and ask advice. hears you closely, gives you comfort, and tries to help you how he can. he will even make sure to check up on you for the next days, make a joke or two to light up your mood.

he's love language is probably acts of service.

don't ever pick up a fight with jeonghan... he's that type of scary that nothing bothers him until it does. his words get assertive, and he's not afraid of saying what he has to.

something makes me believe jeonghan is protective with his friends. he will speak up if he's in a situation that makes any of his friends or anyone really uncomfortable. when there's something you tell him, he not necessarily picks a fight but encourages you to do what you should, would that be cut someone toxic from your life or doing what you want.

Spicy Thoughts

kinky!!!! KINKYYY!!! he will be honest with his wantings and desires with you, you will know what he wants to try, and he's hoping you're wanting too. communicative as hell, we love it.

jeonghan isn't quiet. man trying to contain himself?? not him!! he moans, groans, dirty talk, grunts, the whole package bb. you're making him feel good, and he wants you to know.

a switch and open for anything.

sex drive high and horny. when i say he's open for anything, i mean it... he's up for anything!! will not always be penetrative sex, you want to get on your knees and suck him, fine, let's do it. want to make out, grind and cum on your panties, he's up to. just finger you and make you cum on his tongue, okay... let's do that.

not the type to enjoy lazy or slow sexy, he likes raw, sweaty, and nasty sex.

im sorry, but i do believe he'd go to strip clubs. i feel like sex is a need for him, like a healthy need, you know what i mean? so if he's not with someone, he'd would satisfy that paying for it.

a tease, baby!!! prepare yourself for overstimulation, sensory play, and orgasm denial. he's up to make you cum many times 🙂‍↕️ you're getting sore and sensitive next morning.

jeonghan is not aggressive. he's ok with accessories, handcuffs, blindfolds, anything, he's just not causing you any physical pain.

[majeoeje]

Nightly Routine

Arlecchino x reader

You were my worst pain in the world

Synopsis: For as long as you could remember you only had one purpose. And that is to fulfill your bloodlust. So you never thought to crave salvation, let alone in connection. Especially from the 4th fatui harbinger who was far from compassionate. Yet from the way she pours you her attention, how could you not be left wanting for more?

“Have you ever loved?”. You asked, the feeling the soft motion of her brush running through your hair stopped as you felt her stern gaze placed upon you. Though you continue to keep your arms locked around your knees, patiently waiting for her answer. Anticipating something fulfilling to past the time.

You hunged your gaze to the small window in front of you, the moon light that invited itself in had always been enchanting to you. Like a forbidden call of freedom from the outside. You bask yourself in the light as if you were tasting freedom in itself. But her touch was just as strong as the call of night. It almost felt like a tethering constraint that tugs on your heatstrings. Is this what they call attachment?

“Why is it that you ask?”. Her voice was calm like the night, one that always soothe your ache in loneliness.

Her brushstrokes continued to glide across your tangled hair. Battlefield had always left many knots up your hair, but no matter how unimportant it may seem, The Knave always made sure every single one of it were undone every night.

“I had to kill again today”. You said, it lacked remorse and empathy . You were already too far gone to possess any of that fleeting emotions. “2 people, lovers i believe”.

Arlecchino listened intently, but it was rather an irregular topic of yours. Because you never even gave a second thought to the people that you killed.

“I just didn’t know death could look so… Peaceful with the one you loved in your arms” you contemplated. Arlecchino was done with your hair, she heard a small thank you coming out of your mouth. Though she didn’t speak, noticing you were sorting out your thoughts.

“Have you ever felt such love?” You asked, awe unmistakably laced through your voice.

A chilling pause overcame the air for a moment. Though you weren’t that emotionally adapt to notice it. Funny how she could easily slice your neck with her scythe at every given second, though every given time e she always chooses not to.

“Once”. She stated. She had loved someone, as much as she was capable of loving anyone. Which was never enough.

“Really?!” You quickly turned to face her, she would never admit it but your childlike wonder had always allured her to you. It felt like a thin thread was pulling her towards you every time she saw that glow of wonder in your eyes. It was nostalgic, almost reminiscent of someone.

Arlecchino could feel the bed shift as you got closer to her, in a proximity that would let anyone to believe that you didn’t know the meaning of personal space.

“How did it feel like? Did it hurt?” She knew everything was foreign to you despite you being older than her. It made her realize just how sheltered you had been

In this proximity, she noticed the way the light that peaked through your window illuminated you. In her eyes, you shine in a different way, it was as if she could see through you. So fragile and delicate. She also noticed the many detailed precised scars that couldn’t had came from battle. One on your forehead more prominent than the rest. In a way and the other, she was seeing you in a different light.

“It was the worst pain in the world” she said. Dead serious.

Seeing you gasp as your face contort in horror light a small fire in her. To her defense it is not everyday anyone gets to see this coldblooded war machine being afraid of such exaggerations. Amusement may be an overstatement. But clearly there was something about you that always manages to make her come back knocking on your door.

“It was merely a jest”. she says, as she plastered a smile she would put on to please diplomats. She pulled aside the strands of hair that were out of place to the back of your ear “i apologize for making you afraid”.

“I see… so that was fear”. You simply deducted. You wondered if your expression had mirrored those who you killed. “It was rather unpleasant”.

You noted the way the knave softly spoken to you in that initial moment, you’ll make sure to utilize this new knowledge.

“It is unpleasant, yes.” Said The Knave who had never felt true fear.

“Do you think it could be possible for me to love, Knave?” You continued your line of questions.

Despite being an open book, the knave could never figure out the nature of your mind. In truth she doesn’t know. That’s what makes your company so enthralling.

“Hmm, i don’t see why such thing would be impossible”. She carressed your face, her sharp nails slightly scratching at your skin. You can’t help but melt into her tender touch.

Her confirmation alone brought a sense of relief in you. You didn’t know why before both of her hands started to move to hold you. Her hands were cold. So cold that one wouldn’t think she was alive. Yet her cold hands could set your skin on fire everywhere it touches you. The black skin on her hand resembled that of the finest silk gloves in teyvat, her long dark red nails serving her more elegance. Her touch by itself had left a permanent imprint on your mind you didn’t think you could live without it.

“I think i love you” you declared it so casually like it was just another mundane thing. It mirrored the way you would mindlessly talk about your everyday activities.

It was rather strange. In all her life she had never heard those words being spoken to her. So is it really wrong for her to not take this lightly?

It took her a second to process your words. But before she could speak the door to your chamber slammed open with a loud thud.

Arlecchino internally rolled her eyes when she realized who was at the door.

“Isn’t it a bit late for your time of visit, Knave?” Despite his brash movements, The doctor spoke with a calm manner. He was right, it was past midnight. She felt like she got caught, in a way.

Could it be that she was so focused on you that she forgot to counter in the time? And was she really that immersed in your company that she didn’t sense The Doctor’s steps as he was coming?

“It seems that time passed me by rather quickly” She said as she poised herself to be more presentable, letting go of you. You understood it wasn’t a good time to be upset with your creator here.

“I hope you don’t mind me taking them away. We have important matters to attend to.”

Dottore extended his arm, calling you to aid him by his side. It was probably going to be another unsightly experiment to your body. You mourned the fact that you had to bid your departure with The Knave in such way. Though you were happy about this fruitful meeting. The thought about this day would bring a small haven of relief in your mind as The Doctor finds new ways to toy with your already rotting flesh and bones.

Though what objections can you give to your own creator?

“This late at night, doctor?” Arlecchino protest. You were about to stand up before you felt her stop you in your action.

“This simply cannot wait. You see..” as Dottore continues to explain the extent of his research, your mind wonders elsewhere. It had became a habit of yours to disassociate with his ramblings, truly you didn’t care for his cause. Because no matter how unimportant or important it was, there was one thing for sure. It would be painful.

Though when your mind had wandered away it was easily brought back with a single snap of her voice.

“I won’t let you”.

Arlecchino had always carried herself with an apathetic demeanor. Some would say she was cold and heartless, but you could only see every part of her as graceful. She was the most beautiful thing you had layed your eyes on. Though you never thought she would have yet another side to her. One more ragged and impulsive. Yet you couldn’t help but think it was just as mezmerizing.

“Your overstepping here, Knave”.

As Dottore went closer, you could feel Arlecchino’s protective embrace around you.

“I don’t care. They’re done having to deal with your unsightly experiments.”

You never thought the X in her eyes could shine in this glow, as her black irises stared Dottore down in such an ominous way. You couldn’t stop yourself from examining the way her blackened hand that was so used to caressing you clenched in a way you hadn’t seen before. It made you wonder if anger had ever looked so beautiful on someone.

“What fascinating reaction.. did you forget one small detail that you had no authority here?” He simply stated. His sharp teeths peeking through his menacing smile.

“I don’t. But i won’t hesitate to make the House of Hearth your enemy if you dare lay a finger on them.”

Dottore was taken aback with this. It had just occurred to him that she was dead serious.

“You wanna try me?” She states. Bold and unafraid.

The room fell to a silence as you awaited for The Doctor’s answer. It felt like the longest 5 seconds of your life.

“Haha! Now we wouldn’t want that would we?”he laughs. More amused than offended, knowing damn well what was going on.

“I could only wonder why you were being so persistant! But i shall leave you to it then”

As Dottore waltz away you could hear his laughter echoing through the hallway.

“Do not hesitate to tell me if he ever does anything to make you suffer” she states as she walked away.

Some parts of herself were ashamed to her children that she put everything down the line to protect you. It was uncalled for and brash. It was rather out or character for her to do such uncalculated things.

But before she could walk past your door you stopped her.

She turned to face you, surprised that you caught her off guard.

“Thank you” you said.

It was foreign to you. You and her both knew that it was your first time saying such words. Because up until now, you had no reason to say it.

“Anytime” she said.

Were you imagining things? Or maybe The Doctor had sliced the wrong nerve on your brain during your last experiment. Because what you were seeing must not be real.

You could see a faint upturn curve on her lips. And after a second, it was gone.

No, that can’t be it. You shrugged it off, going back to sleep.

(A/N:yo my head was reeling when i write this but im working on a req rn i think it’s so sweet i can’t sleep until i get to the base of it😟)

[annawayne]

hi anna 🪷🤍

do you have any aruani headcanons for jealousy? feeling angsty tonight xd

Hello, Darcy! 🖤

Oh, thank you a lot for asking! I actually have some thoughts on this...

Let's imagine that in this scenario, Armin and Annie didn't get together after Rumbling, immediately swept by the endless responsibilities, just catching longing gazes across the rooms and space, half-smiles, and some quick wave of their hands when they meet during the day. Still, none of them doesn't returns to their boat conversation, afraid to hear something that would break their hearts, that it was just a "moment" and nothing else, and also because they are both pressed with an enormous list of things they have to do - being now responsible for the rebuilding of the world in ruins is something that leaves so little space and time for themselves: while the world was healing, rising from the ashes, their own lives losing colors with every day, tucked between infinite things to do, guilt for the things they did to each other and "much important" than the erratic quiver inside heart muscles when their eyes meet, sending ripples of oxymoron mix of tickling heat and cold goosebumps all across the skin.

Torn apart sometimes for weeks, then months, when Armin usually goes to the negotiations, sometimes with Jean or Pieck, Annie is left behind, feeling with each day that the distance between him and her grows not even in miles, but in something more grave and not tangible, something that thrives within her core with trembling fear of something she isn't sure what for, leaving her hollow and alone, so ironically familiar to that four years in crystal. Every time, during the late hours of the night, when only the cold silver moonlight caresses her body, Annie decides to talk to him once he returns. She'll say everything she was craving to tell him for so long. Still, once Armin is here, every time, suddenly, she sees how he changes and grows, becoming farther and farther away even from that Armin she only met not so long ago and who is still a mystery to her, someone she didn't have a chance to know. He already slips, following the currents of the unstable world, and every time, her throat is crashed with the dark hands, blocking her breath and words from her mouth. His gazes are still on her, but as time passes, Annie doesn't understand if there's the same craving in his eyes as in hers, as only being washed with his eyes always makes her both wanted and lonely.

It continues till one winter day, when Armin, her, and Pieck are called to the office of Müller, who was one of the generals in charge and who offered Armin to make an alliance with one of Marleyans, preferably from one of the powerful families who managed to survive during the Rumbling.

"It would make a great image and example to the world," Müller said that day. "Marleyan and Paradisian, untied by the wedding vows, show that humanity has entered the new age."

The big folder lays in Armin's hands, his eyes wide, and she could hear his breath hitched, pulled through his tight lips, and yet, all Annie could think about was the photos and resumes of women in this folder, as Armin's fingers turn pages. Smiling, beautiful, intelligent, educated, much more cheerful, someone who didn't ruin his homeland and someone who would do a better job in knowing him. Someone braver enough to speak to him. Annie feels like the nauseous waves churn her stomach, and she knows that she doesn't have any right to feel this way - he isn't even hers. He doesn't give her anything except long stares and heartache whenever she sees him in her dreams when he's holding her close, whispering sweet nothing, where his lips on hers, his hands around her, and-

All of it lives only in her head. He never was hers to feel this way. Armin never promised her anything to feel this biting, bitter avalanche of jealousy, clouding her mind with a murky veil of acid thoughts that erode her mind with the sharp realization that she already felt so heartbroken all these years ago, back in Stohess, when his eyes, his beautiful eyes, distorted by fear and despair, looked at her from the bottom of the stairs. She had no right to feel this way, as if all her world shattered to pieces when, in the first place, it was she who destroyed everything for him and who lied to him. He didn't betray her because she was never on his side, but why did it feel so sickening and hurt so badly?

It's all the same now, in the office room of Müller, when the crisp winter sunlight creeps into the stuffed room, where all she can hear is the rustle of pages as Armin's fingers turn the pages of this folder with smiling women with bright eyes and intelligent gazes, with women who have a background behind them, the roots that have a long history, and not like hers - poisoned, abandoned and unwanted from her birth.

Annie doesn't remember how she left the office room. She knows that she has nothing to give him, nothing worth his attention and his love. She knows that it's not fair to feel so heartbroken and the crawling jealousy streaming in her blood, but Annie also doesn't know how to stop the cold tears streaming down her skin set aflame. She doesn't know how to repair something that never was even in her hands, but something that feels as if her imprints are left there after she crushed it. Why is she even surprised?

It has always been this way.

With her heartbeat loud in her ears, Annie doesn't hear the footsteps behind her back - fast, a staccato of the hushed clicks of the feet against the wooden floor, so when someone's arms circle her back, Annie's body reacts just like it used to. Immediate attack, no second of hesitation, but when her elbow is already midair, ready to hit, she turns away and sees him. Armin, in front of her, his eyes, once again, are on her, but she sees how his irises now have another shade in them. Something she wasn't familiar with, but something she suddenly hit with the mixture she almost forgot - ripples of oxymoron mix of tickling heat and cold goosebumps all across the skin.

And, maybe, this time, it would finally push the words they needed to say from their throats.

--

Oh well, here it is! Thank you for reading, and I really enjoyed writing all of it, so thank you so much for asking me!

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Oh my gosh, your headcannons are so good! It seems like every time I come back to Stardew I find interesting content! So... I saw that your requests are open, so I decided to make a request for a headcanon of the reactions of the bachelors and bachelorettes of SVE (+ Isaac, if possible) when they hold their newborn children in their arms for the first time? Reactions of both children, if possible, but I understand if it's too much, I don't want to impose myself. Anyway, thanks in advance and I apologize if the request was confusing or if I seemed rude, since English is not even remotely a language that I speak, and sometimes I can get confused while translating from Portuguese to English...

*Sobbing* Thank you very much, dear anon. I'm incredibly glad that you and others like my headcanons 🥺 And don't worry, you translated everything perfectly. English is not my native language either, so I feel ya, I also sometimes worry that I will write an ask to someone incorrectly. Anyway, enjoy! ❤️

_____________________________

SVE bachelors + Isaac:

Lance walks slowly around the room holding his son/daughter and smiles softly, rocking gently to keep the baby from crying. "Well hello there, little one. Farmer and I have been waiting a long time for your arrival." Luckily, the Guilds let adventurers off more often and take some of the responsibilities off their shoulders if they became parents until the baby turns 3, and Lance takes this opportunity to be with the baby and Farmer more often. To tell the truth, Lance didn't think about wanting a son more than a daughter, or vice versa. The most important for him - that the child was fed, healthy and happy.

Magnus still couldn't believe his own eyes. He, an old grumpy wizard, twice heartbroken and without particularly high chance of starting a family, held a small child in his arms. His child. The wizard's vision blurred with tears and his voice shook slightly. He was happy, he was so, so happy. Not even Camilla and the other colleagues would ruin his mood to know that the usually reserved wizard was overcome with emotion. Not to say he had any preference on what gender he even wanted the the first child to be (technically, his firstborn is a daughter), the baby is fine and happy - that's good enough for Magnus.

The baby Victor held in his arms was so small... The young father was afraid of dropping the baby, so he stood still, holding his child like a fragile crystal. Rivers of tears ran down his cheeks as he cooed to the baby, saying how happy he is that their new family member finally arrived. When asked by Victor to hand the baby over to his spouse/nurse, the spaghetti lover hesitated slightly, wanting to hold his child a little longer. Until the baby starts crying, because of hunger, then Victor immediately handed the baby over for feeding. He doesn't know why, but he was a little more excited about the girl, though boy or girl, he was basically just glad that the kid was healthy and happy.

It's rare to catch Isaac with a soft smile on his face instead of a wolfish grin or just plain indifference. Farmer, as his beloved partner, sees him smile more often than not (and often they are the reason for the grumpy adventurer's smile). When Isaac held his baby for the first time, his smile was so wide and bright, he shone with happiness like the sun. If it is a boy, the adventurer honestly admits that he wanted a son as his first, to raise him as a good man and the protector of his future siblings (if he and Farmer decided for another one). With the baby girl, Isaac's mindset will not really change, he will be a loving and very gentle father (he will agree to all of his daughter's requests to play tea party).

SVE bachelorettes:

When Sophia held her baby in her arms for the first time, she began to sob with happiness almost uncontrollably. Her precious child, her treasure. She and Farmer had waited so long for the arrival of their son/daughter, and now this moment had come. Sophia promised the baby that she would be the best mother in the world, that she would love and protect them, that she and Farmer would give the baby the best life. And although because of the tears and emotions the pink-haired girl's speech was an incomprehensible set of words, Farmer understood her, so that's the main thing. She will love both children equally, but I think Sophia will be a little more excited about the girl first, thinking about the future mother/daughter relationship.

When Olivia held her baby for the first time, she felt the same way when she held little Victor - an almost overwhelming feeling of love and affection, and a strong desire to care for and protect them at all costs. She would be overwhelmed with emotions of joy and happiness, and she wouldn't give a damn about the make-up that smudged. For Olivia, her family is the most important thing, everything else doesn't bother her too much. The former accountant is pretty excited if it's a girl (she's always wanted a son and a daughter in family), but she's incredibly excited about a son too, already imagining the bond the baby will have with his older brother.

Claire held her baby close to her heart and refused to let go. She gently rocked her baby to sleep, crying quietly from the overwhelming happiness. When the cashier calms down a little, she starts cooing, promising to be the best mother in the world to her precious child, helping and protecting them. Claire loves her and Farmer's baby anyway, though she will honestly say that she used to dream specifically of a daughter, dreaming of a mother/daughter bonding, of teaching her how to dance and how they would grow sunflowers in the backyard.

[ud505]

Hii! I absolutely adore ur writing! I was wondering if Josh Washington would braid/tie reader’s hair up if they would allow them to, to sort of cope with Hannah and Beth’s disappearance; assuming that Josh would sometimes do the twins’ hair. Some hcs and a gender neutral reader would be nice :)

Hi anon!! I'm glad u like my writing :) I'm absolutely sure he'd do that. And I can also imagine him making his sisters hairstyles that their parents didn't allow them to wear when they weren't home 😭😭

• It sort of started as a joke. You were trying to do some new hairstyle on yourself, but it didn't turn out as you wanted it to. So he offered himself to help you, and you accepted thinking he was joking

• At first you weren't so sure abt how it'd look on you bc, since when does he know how to do someone's hair? Well guess who turned out to be a fool

• It looked amazing. More than amazing. How? You ask him. He just says it's a "secret talent of his" while trying not to laugh at your visibly surprised face

• But secretly? He was afraid that you wouldn't like it. It had been some time since he last helped the twins with their hair, so he wasn't sure if it was good enough for you

• Since then, he always offers to do your hair, it doesn't matter if you're tired, drunk, or just too lazy to do it yourself. Call and he'll do it, no reason needed

• He'd have some nicknames for you like "his hairstyle doll" and he'd actually think they're hilarious

• He'd send you random photos of hairstyles just in case you want him to make them for you. Such a cutie

• He'd be really careful while doing it bc he wouldn't wanna hurt you. All that experience with his sisters messy hairs have made him an expert, even on curly ones

• He'd make you some silly hairstyles if you let him when he's bored or inspired

• And if you let him, he'd put some accessories on you (like sanrio or princess themed hair clips)

• He'd agree to match hairstyles with you if you asked him. And he'd sometimes encourage you to try and do them to him (not a lot bc he doesn't want you to learn to do it yourself, he enjoys those moments with you more than you'll ever know)

• And even if they look absolutely horrible, he'd wear them like a fucking medal

• He'd also act like he were a hairdresser and didn't know you just to make it funnier

• If you could turn around while he's doing your hair, you'd see him absolutely concentrated and with a wide smile. It just gives him so many good memories...

• But he's never telling you that it helps him to cope with the twins' dissapearance though. He doesn't want you to be sad bc of it, and prefers to see it as a cute tradition that the both of you have

[tookishcombeferre]

I think this is a great point. I totally think Cedric is protecting Sofia to get her out of the way in that scene. I think he was afraid for her safety. This plays into a lot of the way I understand Cedric and Grimtrix’s relationship.

I, personally, think Cedric is afraid of Grimtrix even as far back as the Hexley Hall episode. In the Hexley Hall episode, he’s friendly enough with Grimtrix in the beginning of the episode when they first start talking to each other. However, we also know that Cedric doesn’t like him based on what he says to Sofia when they’re first arriving. Cedric claims this is because of Grimtrix’s title “the good.” Yet, we know there are at least a handful of “good” aligned sorcerers Cedric loves. (Merlin of course is a big one.)

Therefore, is it that Cedric doesn’t like Grimtrix because he feels like the title of “the good” is a misnomer? Is there a reason for his lack of trust in Grimtrix’s goodness? Is Cedric aware of some kind of underlying hypocrisy? The world can only supply head canons because we never get an actual answer. My personal feeling is that Grimtrix has always given Cedric bad vibes, and the idea of this guy being called “good” is just laughable.

Regardless of what Cedric knew or didn’t know during the Hexley Hall episode, he *certainly* knows that Grimtrix is dangerous and to be feared by DotS. Thus, getting Sofia out of there is a high priority.

Another thing I like to think is that Cedric might have wanted to *be* stopped. He asks her to gather people to stop this takeover. He knows who’s there. He knows those people are powerful and totally capable of stopping them. You really mean to tell me that Merlin was there and Cedric didn’t know? He wanted to be stopped. I really, truly believe that. He wanted to make a point. But, it was about making a point. He needed Roland to hear him and this was the way to be heard.

Therefore, I also think that Cedric is far more capable of seeing nuance than Wormwood. Wormwood, being a bird, has a one track mind. He is like “this is what we’ve wanted, worked for, and potentially needed since our youth - you are NOT throwing this away over a potential opportunity to get what you deserve. She’s ten years old. Putting all our faith in her is totally unwise because she has no power.”

Whereas, Cedric, being human, sees that finally having human connection has been a miracle unto itself. He’s got to pass down the lessons his favorite teacher taught him. He has got to laugh. He has got to experience joy. He has got to love. He has got to feel paternal. He has got to teach. He has got to experience emotions he never thought he would have to opportunity to experience because of the connections he has made through Sofia. He sees the potential. But, in the end, the hurt still runs too deep. He’s not out of it yet. But, it comes back to the fact that, I don’t think he wanted anything more than to be heard.

Cedric was making a very loud and aggressive point with every thought that the “good sorcerers” were going to stop them, and he was just screaming very loudly into the void. But this time? At least someone other than the four walls of his tower were going to hear him.

In 'Day of the Sorcerers', when Sofia secretly got Cedric's attention during the Order of the Wand's meeting and pulled him out of the room, expressing horror for what she overheard Grimtrix plotting, Cedric distracted Sofia by fibbing that he intended to stall Grimtrix and the rest of them, and told Sofia to fetch all the good sorcerers to stop the Order.

After she left, Wormwood (disgusted by how much Cedric's grown to care so much about Sofia, especially now that he was closer to taking over Enchancia than ever before) smacks Cedric upside the head and tells him he can't let Sofia ruin a perfectly good wicked plan. Cedric snaps back at Wormwood that he only said all that to Sofia to get her to leave.

And that was true. But here's something that didn't get brought up in the episode, and something I don't see brought up in the fandom. I think the main reason he distracted Sofia like that and sent her away was not only so she wouldn't find out he was going to take over Enchancia (or at least considering it at the time) and have her heart broken, but also to protect her. Because if Grimtrix and the Order discovered the princess snooping around there, especially if they knew she overheard their plans to conquer all the kingdoms and control the world, they wouldn't have hesitated to freeze her with their Medusa Stones (like they were going to do to all the royals anyway).

@mushroomsie224 @sweetmariihs2 @bettathanyou @fantadym @cedric-my-beloved @anticedfiaweek @tookishcombeferre

[dykedvonte]

You ever just see a Mouthwashing take that makes you want to bang your head into a wall? I literally just saw someone claim Curly couldn't have been emotionally abused by Jimmy before the crash because he was in a higher position of power than Jimmy.

-Shrimp Anon

The mouthwashing fandom has shown me that people genuinely do believe that certain types of abuse are not as detrimental as other types especially when they deem those immune/resistant, ergo, believing one is objectively worse no matter how it affects the person nor the intersections of power, history and dynamics at play.

Get ready cause this is a yap session:

Cause like it's heavily implied that Curly and Jimmy's friendship was toxic and abusive, pointedly in the direction of how Jimmy uses Curly's belief/comfort in him. Curly wasn't forced to enable Jimmy but he was emotional and mentally on edge around him in almost every scene in some way. Mental and emotional abuse are not contingent on what positions you have at work. Yeah, he's Jimmy's boss but he was Jimmy's friend first and it's like getting into Psych discussion to talk about how social power tends to overshadow any perceived organizational power in the human mind. People are concerned about their jobs ofc but they tend to hang onto and put more value/investment into their personal relationships, hence why there tends to be laws and restrictions around mixing the two.

I always see the sentiments that "Curly is a grown ass man", "Curly is bigger than Jimmy", "Curly is Jimmy's boss", "He just needed a backbone" as criticisms of Curly and while I do agree that on the surface level all of these to be true and viable ways Curly could've taken more control of the situation, I often look at the parallels of Anya and Curly as victims of Jimmy pre/post crash.

The way Jimmy talks to Anya post crash is how he talked to Curly in the pre-crash segments. It's hard to pin-point mainly because we know he hates and wants nothing to do with Anya compared to his contrary but similarly handled obsessions with Curly. It's a weird sort of "honey-moon" effect of abuse Jimmy does in terms of emotional and mental victimization. He is always horrid to Anya, always talking down or questioning her abilities and thoughts in a situation, this of course includes the harassment and assault. However, he has a moment of attempted gentleness/conditioning when he question her about the mouthwash when she's contemplating drinking it at the table. The key difference is he has no personal investment in Jimmy outside wanting nothing to do with him, meaning there is no sort of romanticized version of him that he can condition her off of. He knows this, hence, why he always reverts to trying to make her to scared to oppose him.

This sort of give and take of "kindness" doesn't work on her because she knows he is just doing it to take more from her than whatever he could possibly give but it reflects even the "softer" scenes between him and Curly where he always rewords or rephrases Curly's sentiments and concerns to sound more shallow. He is feigning a deeper understanding by reworking Curly's emotions into something bad and needing to be hidden. Everything is laced with envy and resentment, an outburst just around the corner, I mean he even slams the table in the birthday party scene, a tactic in emotional manipulation to set the victim on edge and cloud their ability to respond. Even if Curly knows Jimmy won't get physical in that moment, the physical actions is intended to make him back down in the confrontation in case it does. This is something that is just not person specific. It ingrains itself into how you interact with the world and life and it shows in major and minor ways with Curly.

Post-crash, the abusive nature is more in tandem to the physical victimization Anya went through and the stripping of voice and autonomy we see take place. Like the parasite in HFIM, Jimmy speaks for Curly most of the time and puts words in his mouth, similarly to how he takes Anya's plans as his own. He very commonly, with the both of them mind you, supplements the worst aspects of himself into them; pettiness, selfishness, lack of understanding... And tries to cover himself with their best qualities; kindness, planning, initiative, etc...

These parallel are just to say that positional power has little to do with if a person can be abused and how it can even be flipped to further the abuse. There is no doubt that Curly could've picked up on Jimmy's envy of his position hence another reason he never confronted him as a Captain but as a friend as doing so would immediately put Jimmy in a space to be confrontational/combative.

I think the disdain some people have when they talk about the heavily implied if not implicitly stated emotional/mental abuse Curly experienced being Jimmy's friend is when treating it as an excuse to why he didn't do more. I can understand that completely because it is not an excuse to why he didn't do more but is a very real reason people in his position in these scenarios can experience whether in the context of a work or social environment. However, I also think the way people talk about it really does demonstrate a bigger problem when talking about abuse when somehow who is/was abused is either part of the issue or enabled it.

Harkening back to the sentiments about Curly's inaction regarding Jimmy, I think the exact phrases I used/have seen show how there is an inherent belief that it is easier to overpower the effects of emotional/mental abuse that go in tandem with the perception of Curly as someone who should be able to. There is not an age you suddenly stop being susceptible to abuse nor a set point or low where you realize how it has affected you. You don't suddenly know to stand up or put a face on to face your abuser nor admit that you inadvertently enabled them to subjugate someone else to the same treatment. Maybe it's my psych brain but their is this growing belief that direct action is somehow easy or always the best method with the game shows you instances where it is not always the case. In real life that rings true too. He should have done more, but it's not impossible to see why he struggled to find a way or didn't even if it makes us mad.

It's not easy to suddenly gain a "back-bone". You don't immediately want to resort to aggression, especially if it mirrors the type you were a victim to. You don't want to believe you allowed yourself to be treated this bad, let it get that bad or allowed something bad to happen to someone else. It is easy to be in denial, to retreat to your thoughts or make excuses to avoid the painful truth. It's frustrating but in a way we know is relatable. It why we both hate and love Curly for it. We know we'd be better, we think we'd be better, we like to think we wouldn't falter in the same ways but it's always easier to say that from the outside looking in. It's easy to see what he was doing wrong because we are seeing it, not him, but the game really does make you picture what you would do if this was your raw reality and it's why this debate about Curly seems so never ending/contradictory. We can all say what we'd do but bottom line is that's much different when you're in the moment with all the emotions and human feelings attached.

I personally think Mouthwashing tackles the themes of rape culture, enabling, toxic masculinity, types of abuse and patriarchy in ways that are meant to deconstruct the typical straightforward views we mostly have of these concepts and how little subtilities of them are just as, if not more, detrimental than the overt/obvious parts. The game deals with the idea of little details and bigger picture in a way to show that sometimes the bigger picture is not the issue but the little details that make it up. It's why I have a personal dislike of depictions of Jimmy as the typical horrible person who would of course do something like this because the game is about noticing the little warning signs, the foreshadowing and foresight.

It's why I dislike the typical discussion of "bro code" and "boys will be boys" for the game because the game makes a point to avoid the standard depictions of such. It is about the type of men who still enable despite not condoning, agreeing or even perpetuating harmful beliefs because they can't see the little details or the ways it seeps into their everyday. The severity is not obvious to them as it was not obvious to Curly, Swansea or even Daisuke the way it was to a woman like Anya. There are little details about Jimmy that should ring alarms but if you are too naive like Daisuke, too distant like Swansea or too conditioned like Curly, they are just off markers.

There is 100% more constructive/concise ways to say "Curly was a victim of Jimmy's abuse on an emotional and mental aspect that clouded his judgements and perceptions in the scenario" while also critiquing on the side of "Curly still had a responsibility to protect Anya as a crew mate and Captain that he failed to do due to biases and stigma's he failed to surpass" without the weird condemnation people give him about should've knowing better than to let himself be manipulated by a person he considered a close, if not family/best-friend and had his own reasons to trust initially. Also stop being weird about victims of abuse in general with this fandom, like sorry not everyone has a like social epiphany the moment someone's nasty to them. People are treating it like you immediately know when you are in a toxic relationship immediately or comprehend when a person is actively dangerous and either it's your fault for not knowing how to leave/cut them off or you deserve it. Like the hypocrisy of people believing how certain fans treat the story reflect their irl views but not their own is crazy.

End statement is: I honestly don't even know man, I've been writing this too long and just like no man on that ship was perfect or really helped Anya when it mattered and I feel like pitting them against each other in discussion on who did the least or most or how it was justified sucks cause in the end Anya always did the most and best thing for herself.

[blushinggoku]

Been trying to read some goku x reader fanfics (because I love him and cringe culture is dead) but there's soo few out there it's insane. I'm disappointed in this fandom for not loving goku more

[mercless]

🗡 mad cowboy disease....

[red-dyed-sarumane]

in general im okay with a lot of things regarding my ocs as long as u remain aware they are My characters & i have the end say on what's canon with them. but yeah if u wanna draw them or write something about them or have them hang out with ur ocs or whatever im not stopping u

[caffeinatedopossum]

I don't understand why it's generally not socially acceptable to recognize your good qualities. Like I don't understand why it's bad to be a show-off or a know-it-all or to brag. Like I think most people know "those things = bad" but not why.

It also seems like people are always either waaaaay into one end of the scale where they are just so unbearably full of themselves and have preposterously high self esteem (and most people act like this is fine too? Like a lot of celebrities and white men specifically seem to be like this) and I don't understand why so many people respect them then. Or they're the complete opposite with self esteem way too low despite the fact that they have redeeming qualities.

I feel like maybe the reason it's considered bad to brag is because you might 'make' other people feel inadequate but see that seems like a stupid reason to me because the problem then is not that you stated an opinion of your own self worth but is actually that everyone else is conditioned to compare themselves to each other in a very unhealthy way. And I think instead of discouraging people from opening up about what they take pride in, what they like about themselves, what makes them feel happy or content or confident, maybe we could just be discouraging people from viewing those things as personal threats? Idk just trying to formulate some thoughts on this