#but it's what has to be done. mental illness is an illness. mental problems are problems
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i have no mouth and i must scream speech but for about insomnia hate hate hate let me tell you how much i have come to hate being awake
#took half an expired tops brand unisom . wheeeee medicine that does nothing and then the next day you're groggy for twelve hours#but i have to do SOMEthing if i don't Try to make myself sleep that's Giving Up and if you Give Up . well#this is the second week in a row that ive failed to sleep on a night leading into the work week and i know most of the external reasons why#like. busy day tomorrow so anxious. haven't given myself a full weekend in a really long time so strung out.#had important stuff to do earlier that didn't happen so dwelling on that. woke up at 9am and wasn't out of bed until ten thirty so like#i got more than adequate sleep last night but this does not make me feel less worried about NOT sleeping TONIGHT#because again. every time i have a night of big insomnia im convinced that it's the beginning of an unending trend#that will make me wind up like my mother who is lucky she gets more than three hours of sleep every couple of weeks#and while she's done this her whole life qnd has adjusted to it (as much as a body can) i just know. based on how insomnia is for me#that i never could. it would be exactly as terrible every time i would never be able to be calm while it was happening#anyway everybody send me your best knockout gas#AND. it's SNOWING. fuck everything i hate it all#tomorrow im gonna be groggy as hell and have to drive to work and back and have to be With It bc we're doing activities and shit#and have to be like the model of library enthusiasm when i barely have that on a good day. and not actually physically groan#every time someone new wants a card because it means i have to interrupt what im doing dor the next fifteen minutes to say a spiel#i know i shouldn't hate that i should be glad we're getting engagement. and i am. i just wish i wasn't the one at the desk#and im not good at keeping that off of my face or being welcoming when i dont feel welcoming#i haven't gotten to do processing at my actual office desk in months. haven't gotten to be Off The Floor#which certainly hasn't helped my overall stress levels. i need to not be socially on so much it's slowly pulling me apart#and then i get home wnd im too tired to do anything and my house also falls apart around me#but if i DON'T have outings i also rot . there's no solution to this problem. not without quitting my job which ill never do#bc in today's market id never get anything half as good as this ever again. and as has been established. this relatively good job#is still not good enough for me not to be emotionally and mentally falling apart
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attachment styles of tiktok have started going into their pathetics once again
"anxious attachment can only be happy when they're loved by you :(" learn to not depend on others for slimmers of happiness dumbass
"avoidant ppl are human too :(" cool and they should stay away from me
#wah wah wah#not that i don't understand that all of the attachment styles are a literal trauma response#i get it! i need to put genuine effort into not sinking to my anxious attachment every damn time#but like sorry#that effort is what keeps you from being completely insufferable#can you guys tell i absolutely loathe the fact that social media paired with hyperindividualism has made therapy language a weapon?#not even a weapon but just a card to pull when you're being bad to other people and doing better inconveniences you#yes trauma is terrific#yes the harder you childhood is the more effort you'll have to put into building your life when you're an adult#but it's what has to be done. mental illness is an illness. mental problems are problems#and solution requires effort#you have two choices: never get better and have no one beside you#or put that effort since you open your eyes until you close them#seek happiness even if it isn't there#fight to be nice. fight to be soft fight to be patient and kind#because even if there is people who want to be around you initially#those connections wear out so much faster when someone else has to endure the brunt of you refusing to take the reins of yourself#it sounds harsh but support goes both ways#so does love#it's not a transaction it's an effort put by everyone to make the life better for others and themselves
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I'm doing soooo amazing (weeping) like so great and cool (crying) feeling amazing (sleep deprived)

I finally got a load of dishes done though. This, at least, is worth celebrating.
#speculation nation#ive been putting dishes off for weeeeeks#it's better off without a before pic bc y'all dont wanna see what was in my sink before 😐#i will have clean bowls. and silverware. 🥺#i ate cold chef boyardee straight from the can this morning#bc i had no clean bowls and nothing i could possibly use instead. all tupperware used. all microwavable mugs and cups that would fit it#all plates with enough of a lip to hold canned pasta. all plates in general tbh aside from a few tiny plates.#so i ate it straight from the can and u cant microwave a can so i just ate it cold.#not my most dignified moment to be sure. but also not the lowest ive ever gone lmao#Still Pretty Low Tho#but yeah ill have clean dishes. and ill do a 2nd load tomorrow.#im gonna clean up the clutter from my floors. and try to confront the Clothes Problem....#i dont want to try mopping until after the showing if it happens bc im not gonna have random ppl dirtying my clean floors.#bc they WILL just wear their damn shoes inside bc this is america and no one has any fucking manners here.#but whatever. im gonna get my apartment approximately presentable. at least enough so im not mortified by it.#just bc im mental illness squatting here doesnt mean i want ppl to SEE it#thank god i got the worst things done yesterday tho. and today with the dishes.#remaining stuff is mostly just tidying. rather than going through The Horrors lol#sigh. im accomplishing things. unfortunately...#gonna go to bed soon. gotta be up nice and early for more cleaning! :D 😭
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#just turning over the idea of executive functioning issues in my head part by part. impulse control. im extremely tightly controlled. im the#best at control. the only times im impulsive is when someone asks me something and my brain doesn't work well in the moment so i tend to b#like fuck it: says something that might fuck me over later bc im like whatever itll prob b fine lol. but mostly not an issue. emotional#control. i dont lash out at ppl except myself i guess. ill sometimes have freak out meltdowns bc i get so frustrated with myself plus mood#weirdness. so not great. flexible thinking. im pretty rigid. if plans randomly change theres like a 1 in 3 chance ill freak out and start#crying and it takes me a long time to adjust to the idea that i have to chsnge something. and things tend to have to b a certain way#not for any reason in particular. thats just how it has to b. i have to eat the same foods. operate at the same times. do thr same things.#thats just how it is. and i find it difficult in social situations to adapt to the flow of convention bc its like but we're talking abt thi#now but something just interrupted and we aren't going abck to that thing. i dont make it other ppls problem but its uncomfortable for me.#working memory. my memory is pretty fucked. self monitoring. im good at that. too good. im pathologically self reflective. planning &#prioritizing. i can plan but i cant prioritize for shit. i will spiral for hours doing nothing bc i can't decide what comes 1st.#task initation. im good at torturing myself into getting things done but i anxiously avoid a lot of things but once i start its like: im in#this mode now. no i cant fucking stop i need this to b done. i need to sit here and finish it otherwise i wont come back to it. i cant do#moderation its all or nothing. all school and nothing outside of that. cant send mail. cant clean sink. i see it and kno i need to do it an#then i just walk away from the disaster area. organization. is ok. it looks a disaster but i only exist in like 3 places so i dont lose#things often but i dont remember where i put things once i put them down i have to deduce where i would have put it. does that paint the#picture of executive functioning issues or rigid and restrictive compulsive behavior paired with self destructive impulses leading to#absolute mental exhaustion which is y things arent getting done? could b either or both. idk my ability to do things 95% of the way and wal#away leaving a mess that ill never come back to strikes me more as the former but what do i#still its worth considering bc i do have an amazing to control myself in a way that's completely out of my control. maybr my start/stop#switch is just fucked idk. slow down and reorient says my counselor u never stop to rest. shes right but also im a grad student stopping#would mean death u gotta keep swimming and doing more than u should. thats how it is#but im so tired and i only get more and more tired. so somethings gotta give eventually#unrelated#i forgot focus. my focus is good sometimes and sometimes my brain is moving too fast and i cant focus at all. its static#but focus is not a thing i cna control
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[image #1 id: A tweet by @/esdin (Ted DiNola | Virtual Realist) that reads,
“Regulatory Bodies: "ADHD medication is highly addictive"
ADHD Folks: "Wait... did I take my pills?"”
end id]
[image #2 id: Tumblr tags that read, “‘the struggle’; ‘drug seeking behaviour: I’m seeking where I put the goddamn bottle’”. end id]

#okay but wait this is actually a very real problem with the narrative happening in the mental health world#so some context I’m a research psych student (I care about the ways we can fix the problems I’m not interested in the individual problems#(that’s what therapists do)). and one of the things I do as a postgrad is tutor on psychology courses at the university . which means I end#up marking a lot of the course content that undergrad students submit. and something we see a lot (especially with the first years) is this#idea that the mental illness and the things you do or would need to do in order to manage it aren’t being grasped as LIFELONG.#which means when they get asked questions like ‘what is the disadvantage of psychotic medication’ I get to read fun answers like ‘it could#highly addictive’ and I have to be like ‘okay if someone has to take this medication in order to function it is not an addiction it’s a#necessity to their lives’.#and I’m entirely unsure how to go about changing this narrative#but like medication to keep you functioning is not an addiction. metal illness is not (as far as we know) curable. currently it’s onl#only manageable. which is what makes it so difficult to research and intervene and prevent.#anyway. ANYWAY. I’m done now. change the narrative. start with you.
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I genuinely can't stand pop psychology I'm not an expert on this stuff but the damage it has done to the general public's understanding of mental health and psychology must be notable. People with low empathy are evil. NPD is The Abuser Disorder. here's how your partner is subconsciously manipulating you. OCD is when you like cleaning. If you ask him a question and he looks away for one second he's lying to you and abusing you. Follow for more dark psychology tips. Letting my intrusive thoughts win and dyeing my hair. I thought this guy was into me I'm so delulu. Anyone who comes to you with their problems is traumadumping and abusive. Anyone who gives you gifts is lovebombing and abusive. Being neurodivergent means Liking Things. Neurotypicals don't like things. They are empty shells without feelings. Neurodivergent means ADHD or ASD. What, BPD? Schizophrenia?? That's not very quirky or fun. And that's what neurodivergent means. That's just weird. Being mentally ill isn't an excuse to be weird. Only Evil People manipulate and abuse. There are certain people who Are Evil by nature (people with NPD) and they Will abuse you. Loving someone means it's impossible to abuse them only Evil People Who Hate You are abusive. Have I mentioned that people with NPD are evil. I really want to drive that home
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#guys I’m done with letting my ex gf treat me like shit I’m gonna find myself a new person and she’ll be so mad but I won’t care#kinda what she gets for deciding that I’m not worthy of being forgiven for petty fucking mistake I made#a mistake I made on account of the fact that I’m ✨mentally ill✨ and forgot to take my meds (ALSO ITS NOT LIKE I FUCKING CHEATED ON HER)#gonna start fooling around with other people dont fucking care If It makes her jealous I’m pretty enough that I can get anyone I fucking wa#Is it a toxic mentality? Yeah it sure is but who the fuck cares it’s not my problem that she has the audacity to throw me under the bus#and then be on and off with being my friend like fuck you bitch I thought you loved me but no you’re like everyone else and you think I’m#a fucking psycho and YKW maybe I am but at least I’m HONEST
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guilt tripping- o.piastri



summary: oscar asks something of you that you know you can't do. you do it anyway and it ends in you two almost breaking up. almost.
pairing: oscar piastri x fem! chronic illness! reader
a/n: hey yall, I just broke two ribs (lol) and got diagnosed with a chronic illness (lmao) so I might not be posting as frequently- just dealing with it physically and mentally so yah 😹
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“I don’t know if I can go,” you sighed, feeling even worse.
“That’s alright,” he assured you, but you could hear the way his excitement depleted and his mood lowered.
“M-maybe I can work something out, I don’t want to leave you alone,” your guilt grew everyday, this wasn’t healthy for either of you.
“I don’t want you over-exerting yourself,” he spoke softly into the phone. “I’ll just ask mum if she has any friends that want to go or something. She always brings a million people with her.”
“I don’t want to leave you hanging Oscar. Melbourne is a big race. I’d be happy to come over like a week before, and then come to the race once I’ve had a few days to heal,” you bargained. A 22 hour connecting flight was not something you’d ever wanted to do. You couldn’t do it. You knew the pain would be too bad, yet you still stood there, offering it anyway. “And then I’d come for the race on Sunday, or just small bits on all the days.”
“Really?” his voice picked up, excited now. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure Osc, I love seeing you race,” your smile was more of a grimace than anything, but still, the guilt in your chest lessened as you listened to Oscar speak animatedly about the race weekend, while your anxiety ran through the roof. You couldn’t do all the things he wanted you to do, you never could. This had been a problem at the beginning of your relationship, every time he’d plan a date that wasn’t dinner or a movie, you’d have to break the news that a 15 kilometre hike wasn’t something you’d be able to do on a whim. Things like that took planning, physio, and preparation. Your chronic illness was no joke, and had limited you since you were a teenager. In the past few years he’d gotten much better at everything, from helping you with your physio exercises, attending pilates classes with you, knowing what to do on bad pain days, and always looking out for you in public. You knew he was just getting away with himself, and you didn't want to disappoint, so you agreed to it all, hoping against hope that it wouldn’t be a bad week of pain or flare-ups wise.
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You got into Melbourne and sobbed when you got in the car. Thankfully, it was Hattie picking you up, so she just held your hand as you silently cried, the joint and too much to bear. You went straight to bed as Hattie explained to the rest of the house that you were exhausted, and Oscar took it at face value. You usually get extremely tired after long days, and you’d just had a 22-hour day of travel.
“I’ll go check on her-” he started, desperate to see you but Hattie cut him off.
“NO!” she squeaked, trying to not sound suspicious. Oscar raised an eyebrow. “She’s really tired and she’s already gone to sleep.”
“Yeah, well I’m tired so I’m going to bed,” he explained, stretching then yawning.
“Osc,” Hattie sighed, knowing she had to tell him. “She’s not… alright. She can’t do 22 hour travel days like you or I can. She has Lupus and she’s still trying to figure out her medication, so it hurts all the time. She cried from the airport to here, all to support you because you asked her to, and she feels guilty every single time she can’t say yes. She’s done real damage to herself by coming here. I want you to understand that, do you understand that?”
Oscar nodded, because the other option was breaking down into tears. Yes, he’d felt guilty that he couldn’t be there to take care of you while travelling, and he knew he was asking a lot of you when he asked. The guilt settled deep in his stomach and made him nauseous, but still he continued on to his bedroom where you were sleeping peacefully. He could see the puffy eyes, the red nose, the open bottles of medication on the nightstand. He wrapped an arm around your waist, another in your hair and pulled you as close as possible, whispering teary sorrys into your ear.
When you woke up the next morning, you knew what you had to do. This wasn’t fair on either of you, and you needed to make a change. You quickly (but silently) got up, and started to leave the room, but Oscar grabbed ahold of your hand before you could leave.
“Please don’t sneak out on me,” he begged, sitting up. He looked wrecked, puffy eyes, red rose- had he been crying? God, had you made him cry?
“Osc, what’s wrong?” you asked, concern clear as day on your face as you cupped his face with your hands.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I knew I was asking too much when I asked you to come here, I’m so sorry.”
Your heart tightened in your chest. “Osc, I’m alright, I was just tired last night and-”
“Hattie told me,” his voice was deep, deeper than usual, and he pressed a gentle kiss to your hand. “And I’m so sorry.”
“Osc, I could’ve said no if I didn’t think I was able for it,” you tried to reassure him but he shook his head.
“Y/n, you did say no and I didn’t take it as an answer,” he scoffed.
You were stunned into silence. “I think we need to have a talk about us, Osc.”
He nodded, taking your hands in his.
“This isn’t fair on you. I know I can't control my illness, and neither can you. It sucks, but it’s a fact. I wish I could be there for every single race and cheer you on with the other girls, but I can’t. It’s not in the cards for me right now, and I don’t know when it will be. Oscar, I love you so much, and you’ve been with me through everything and I know you deserve someone who can always be there for you, and I’m not that person right now. I love you but I know it’s not enough,” You finally looked at him and he was biting his lip as tears streamed down his cheeks. “I’m sorry.”
He shook his head and stood up, dropping your hands as he paced his bedroom. “You know how much I love you, don’t you?” he asked and you nodded as you held back more tears. “So you know that I still feel your support even when we’re in different time zones or on different continents, right? You know that I value you being in as little pain as possible more than being at the barricade after a race, right? You know that I fucking love you more than I love racing, right? Y/n, I’ve been here the entire time, since we were 14 years old. You’re the reason I get in the car, you make me better, all the time it’s just you. I plan on being with you for my whole life, Y/n. I want to be there for everything. I plan to sit there through every appointment about medication until you find the one that actually helps you, I plan on being there for every day where you don’t feel up to it, I plan on being there for you, always. I never want to let go of you, and yeah, it is nice to be able to see you after a race, and I know that because fucking facetime exists. If you still want to break up because I fucked up by asking you to come here, go ahead, but don’t ever think that I’m without because I’m with you. I am so in love with you, Y/n. I mean it. I want to marry you one day, I want a family with you, I want to be old with you so we get to reminisce on the good ol’ days and make some more while we have time. ‘The good ol’ days’ will be the days I spend with you. More than any race win, more than any trophy, or than anything. My favourite part about a race weekend is coming home because I know no matter what my result was, you’ll be there with open arms, loving me anyways. You’re more than enough for me.”
You crossed the room and wrapped your arms around him, crying into his hoodie as he held you. “I love you too.”
After a few moments of both of you calming down, he finally spoke. “Can you forgive me for being such an asshole?” he asked, wiping his eyes.
You nodded, a small smile on your face. “I can, can you forgive me for being such an idiot?”
He chuckled. “You’re no idiot,” he picked you up and gently placed you back on the bed lying beside you. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#formula 1 x you#formula one imagine#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri#oscar piastri x you#formula one x reader#formula 1#formula one#mclaren#oscar piastri x fem!reader#f1 fluff#x reader#female reader#x reader insert#reader insert#x reader fic#x reader fluff#x reader fanfiction#fem reader#gn reader#f1#f1 smau#f1 imagines#f1 x you#requests#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction
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Tormented Spirit | 5
Part 1 2 3 4 5 6
"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."
Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 4k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, panic/anxiety attacks, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.
A/N: guys this not fully proofread as I am exhausted | cross posted on ao3
@arabellasleopardcoat
You cannot tear your eyes away from Daemon as you walk down the halls together. Though he already told you the blood on his armor was not his, you could not help but worry that perhaps he had a wound hidden away underneath his steel plate. Your stare is so heavy, he's unable to ignore it, thus why he huffs, "out with it."
You perk at his words and rub your hands together.
He raises a brow at you, "or do you merely think me so devastatingly handsome you cannot help but stare?"
You slowly shake your head, "are you certain you are unharmed?"
His eyes linger on you for a moment before he looks forward, "I am offended you did not agree."
You knit your brows, "you," you shake your head, "already know. You are comely husband."
He turns back to you.
You cannot name the expression he gives you.
"Did I not say I was unharmed?"
You stop in your tracks out of frustration, grabbing his arm, "Daemon."
He turns to you, face hardening at your look of concern.
"If you are hurt, then we should head for the maester's."
He chuckles under his breath and pulls away, "a funny thought coming from you."
Your brows furrow deeper as you tail after him, "I do not follow."
He looks over his shoulder, lips curling, "considering you are sick and yet nowhere near the maester's ward."
You only then recognize his smile was mocking. You feel a pinch in your chest. You shake your head, "we are not the same. If there was something to be done about my affliction, my father would have seen it done years ago."
Daemon laughs.
You wait for him to explain his laughter, but he does not. You take his arm again, "what amuses you?"
Your husband looks at you, then at the hand you had on his bicep, "through it all, you hold your father in such high regard."
You clench your jaw and release his him.
He enjoys your dejection, thus why he takes your hand, placing it back in its place with a chuckle, "say it isn't so— I dare you."
You look back at him. His smile is like a needle through your heart. He must think you're stupid without even trying. You mutter, "I am merely stating facts."
He laughs again, "your frail heart keeps you naive."
The feel of his armor is suddenly scorching and you have to pull away. He stares at you after the fact, but does not take your hand again.
You do not speak until you reach the door to the meeting room. Once there, Daemon motions with his head, "wait for me. You like flowers don't you?"
You look over your shoulder and realize that he was motioning to the window that gave view to the gardens. You turn back to him and step forward, reaching out to retrieve the flower in his hair. It would not be appropriate for him to attend a council meeting like this.
Daemon mistakes your action for affection, and moves his head away so you cannot caress his cheek, "I said I am unharmed, woman. Now go sit down."
He walks off after this, leaving you standing in the middle of the hall alone. Just as he enters the room, you struggle with yourself if you should call out to him or simply run up to him and snatch the flower off his head. But then, the moment is gone and he's already inside.
You cannot find it in you to sit as you overthink what would become of your husband because of the flower in his hair.
Just as you begin to pace around, you are rendered frozen when you hear your name get called.
Viserys smiles at you, as he and his council members walk over, "good morrow."
You make eye contact with your father, who was walking just behind the king, and lower your gaze as you curtsy, "your grace. A pleasant morning to you."
Viserys stops in front of you, clapping his hands once, "why, you look fetching my dear," his eyes examine your hair, and you, yourself, are reminded by the presence of the blossoms on your head, "did you pick those from the garden?"
You rise and smile at your husband's brother, shaking your head, "my ward, ser Erryk, was kind enough to- ..." you catch yourself amidst your confession, eyes suddenly darting to your father.
Otto's jaw is set and his eyes are already angered.
You gulp and decide to continue nevertheless, "...accompany me flower picking in the meadow."
Otto huffs audibly, but the king's reaction is so stark in contrast, your father does not have the opportunity to butt in this moment. Viserys claps once again and smiles, "oh good. Some fresh air always did help me. Of course, when I say fresh air, I really mean going on dragon back, but strolling in the meadow picking flowers is a fine pastime."
You are touched by the king's amicable sentiment. You repay his smile with your own, "I completely agree."
"I do not," Otto says, "what if you get an attack in the middle of the nowhere? What if the pain is too great and you are not brought home in time?"
Viserys and you turn to the Lord Hand. The king responds, "she was accompanied by her ward. Is that not why you requested one for her?"
"I requested a ward to keep her in check to prevent her from doing things that would cause her affliction to worsen."
You tense under the harsh sound of Otto's voice.
Viserys recognizes your discomfort and waves him off, "you needn't be so hard on your daughter. It is good for the spirit to reserve time frolicking."
You gulp the next time the king smiles at you. You do not smile back and merely curtsy at him. With that, he and his council members go into their meeting room and you are left alone once more.
The council members' muttering comes to a halt when they see prince Daemon in his seat.
"Kind of you to join us today, brother," Viserys huffs, "we were just talking about you."
Daemon eyes Otto, "the topic being my bride, no doubt."
Otto has to fight the urge to roll his eyes as he walks to his chair. His throat constricts, as if he was about to retch, when he sees the flower by his ear. He thinks of you and the flowers in your hair and figures Daemon did this to spur him on. He releases a deep breath to calm himself, "the topic being your power tripping with the City Watch last night."
Daemon glares at him. The king sits at the head of the table. The prince links his hands together, "you would know to mind your tongue, Lord Hand. I care little for the tears my wife will shed once I sever your neck from your spine."
"Daemon," Viserys snaps.
"And what I did last night was clean the streets from the putrid scabs of the city in preparation for my birth of my brother's child."
"And you exacted a very public show of extreme violence while doing so," Viserys leans on the table, "you maimed and mutilated peopl-"
"Criminals," Daemon whips his head. He raises his brows, "would you rather they strut free and continue stealing, raping, and killing in your city?"
"I would have them see justice."
Daemon chuckles dryly.
Viserys raises a finger, "your blade is not the writ of justice."
"Do you mean to tell me it's yours?" the younger Targaryen narrows his eyes.
"I AM THE KING," the elder Targaryen snaps.
The prince does not flinch, "speaking loudly will not make it truer, brother."
Needless to say, the meeting is coarse and uncomfortable.
You start from where you were sat by the window upon witnessing Daemon shove the meeting doors open. He storms out of the room grumbling and you have to gather your skirts to run off after him.
"What's happened?" you mutter when you reach his side.
He ignores you, simply continuing to march away with a storm cloud overhead.
You are partially surprised to find that he was heading towards your shared chambers. He shoves the doors open then marches towards your private baths. There, your tub holds steaming water. You were grateful the servants thought to prepare the bath here and not Daemon's personal quarters.
Daemon begins to callously remove his armor and immediately ceases when you come towards him to do it yourself. You look between his hard expression and hard attire, thinking of something to say to calm his down.
You think of nothing.
The moment he is free of his steel, he removes the rest of his garbs himself and steps into the tub. You meant to remove the flower in his hair but then he wordlessly offers you his arm, expecting you to clean him, and so you do without fuss.
In the quiet of washing and splashing water, you feel Daemon slowly begin to relax. He leans back, releasing a sigh as he shuts his eyes. You stare at him for a long moment. He is beautiful.
"Your father is a fucking cunt."
You purse your lips as you release his arm. He opens his eyes when you pull away, then watches as you circle around the tub. You sigh as you take his other arm and begin scrubbing it, "he is... sometimes unkind."
He scoffs, turning to you, "sometimes?"
You focus on his arm, unwanting to meet his gaze, "he was kind to my mother... I think. And to my brother... sister... sometimes."
Daemon watches you, brows furrowing, "and you?"
You shrug, "sometimes?"
"Why do you defend him?" he tilts his head.
Finally, you look at him. The glint in his violet eyes make him appear as though he genuinely wanted to understand you. You shrug once more and shake your head, "he is my father."
"He is a cunt."
You tilt your head, scooping water onto his arm, "surely you've thought the same thing about your brother." You look between his arm and his face.
Daemon does not respond. He does, however, pull away from you.
You stare at him, trying to anticipate his next move.
He motions with his head then leans back in the tub once more, "strip. You should bathe with me."
You stiffen at his proposal, but do not object otherwise. You gather your hair and turn around, "will you undo my laces?"
Daemon, for some reason, is taken aback by the request. There is something that swirls in his gut. Still, he moves towards you and undoes your ties, pushing your dress down after. You shudder when he frees you of your shift and strokes your spine with the back of his hand.
"The king demands we have a family dinner before the tourney tomorrow," Daemon mindlessly mutters, "you must wear something pretty."
You gulp when he kisses your shoulder and scratches your sides until he's cupping your breasts. You gasp and turn when he tries to pull you in. Finally, the flower in his hair falls off when your nails dig into his scalp as he kisses you.
By the time the water goes cold and your bliss from love making wears off, you are faced with the fact your neck and collarbones are covered in glaring purple and red marks again.
Daemon does not relent as you both dress. He is adamant in covering your skin with bruises and bites. You are not surprised that he makes you wear something that showcases your decolletage, but you at least find solace in the fact he makes you keep your hair down in its natural state.
The air is tense as your families eat dinner. You sit next to each other, with him to your right, followed by Viserys and Aemma. In front of the queen was Rhaenyra, then Alicent by the left, Gwyane, and finally your father, who sat before you.
There was something serene in the sinister way Daemon strokes your arm and pushes your hair back. You knew he was doing this to rile your father up, yet you did not know why your body found comfort in his touch.
Then, in a flash, you were nothing but uncomfortable when your twin drops his silverware and blurts out, "you will not lose your hand if it does not grope my sister as we feast."
Daemon, who had been rubbing the your back all the way to the side of your breast, turned to your brother, who sat across him.
Gwayne clenches his jaw, expecting him to pull away.
Instead, Daemon moves your hair to one side of your shoulder and caresses your neck with the back of his hands, "oh, but you see, now that I've..." he smiles, "sampled your dear sister, I fear that it might."
Otto is next to drop his utensils. Your body burns at Daemon's words but you can do nothing but lower your head in mortification.
Viserys sniggers. Aemma glares and nudges him.
"You would not understand this, for you are unmarried," Daemon says turning his head, "but perhaps your father will."
Viserys nearly chokes on his meal, but then clears his throat, "brother-" he withholds his laughter, "-that is quite enough." The king looks at the faces across the table, none of them but him and Daemon finding this predicament amusing, "I'm sure everyone is... overjoyed that you and your bride have found marital bliss, but do keep your manners," he nods, "you are seated before the king."
Daemon turns to Viserys and straightens up. He nods, "my king."
Viserys clears his throat again and nods, "manners, brother."
"Hmm, like you with Aemma?"
Rhaenyra slams her hands on the table, pushes her chair back, and stands. All turns to her and her sour expression as she speaks, "I'm quite finished with my food. If I may be excused... my king."
Otto stands next, his chair skidding behind him, "I am quite finished with my food as well," he nods at Viserys, "I wish you a good meal."
Your belly rolls when he looks at you.
"Daughter, might you walk me out of the room, there is something I wish to discuss with you."
"She is quite busy with her food," Daemon immediately answers for you, "if you wish to speak something, speak it in front of us."
Your throat tightens.
"Tis a personal matter," Otto speaks firmly, "I would not put my child in an uncomfortable position."
Gwayne watches your expression, feeling restless because of your glaring discomfort.
"But you've already done so announcing your desire to speak to her so that she could not refuse," Daemon snaps.
Your chest begins to constrict. Gwyane picks up on how your breath quickens.
Otto clenches his jaw, "I wish to speak to my daughter."
"Yes, and I say fuck off."
"Daemon," Viserys finally snaps, turning to the said man. The king turns to you, peering past his brother, "you may speak to Otto if you wish, or you may simply continue with your meal."
You turn to your skirt and clench the fabric in your hand.
Daemon rubs your nape and your skin reacts with goosebumps. You gasp when his hand is snatched away by Viserys. You turn to them, struggling to breathe as you watch them bicker in High Valyrian.
Aemma tries to interject, but the brothers do not acknowledge her.
"Sister," Gwayne calls to you.
You want to turn to him, but you fear you will crumble in tears if you do.
The room is silenced when you stand. You feel everyone's gaze on your skin. "I wish-" you speak through a heavy breath, "-to retire."
You run out of the room before anyone can respond. Your heart drums in its cage but you tell yourself to run and to keep running.
Gwyane stands, ready to chase after you, but Daemon blocks him and their bodies violently collide. Daemon shoves him back and Gwyane is about to lunge at him but hears the voice of her baby sister calling his name in concern. His face twitches as he holds himself back.
"She is my wife," Daemon says.
"Then fucking go after her," Gwayne snaps, raising an arm, "she'll be heading to the temple, undoubtedly, which is outside the Keep, if you are not aware."
"Go on!" Otto snaps, pointing a finger, "chase after her."
Daemon seethes at the instruction. Dare he? He'll break the arm that fucking finger is connected to. He wants nothing less than to do what that cunt says.
"Go to her, Daemon," Viserys urges.
He glares at his brother, offended by his alliance with the fucker. Now he is really not going to do that. He's left with no other choice but to leave the damned dining room though. How lucky of him to run into the Cargyll twins on his way out.
"You," Daemon barks, calling the attention of the two men. He marches over to them, hands balled tightly into fists.
"My p-"
"The fucking Hand has upset the bitch again," the prince snaps, "she's run off in a fit to gods know where."
The two watch the prince have a hissy fit in High Valyrian before realizing he referring to his wife. Arryk says, "the princess has run off at this hour?"
"Her cunt twin said she'd go to the temple, but maybe she's fallen dead halfway through her sprint."
The twins turn to each other in horror.
"Ah, if only the gods were that kind," Daemon scoffs then looks between them, "find her. I do not wish to hear her pathetic sobbing."
Erryk's nostrils flare. Arryk clenches his jaw and nods. The latter begins to walk off and has to reel his brother by the arm to follow.
Daemon storms off to the dragon pit.
Arryk eyes his brother. Erryk's eyes remain on the prince, until his twin calls his attention.
You arrive at the temple of the Seven, forehead and nape sheened over with sweat. You nearly collapse before the Mother. The only reason you do not, is because two septas catch you before you collide with the shrine of candles. Upon recognizing you, they are quick to attend to you, saying they will get you water and a towel.
Running is a horrid activity that seems to only more horrid each time you do it. You find that your heart cannot keep up, and you are pushed into horrible breathlessness. Your father was strict to never let you run. You do not know if it is simply because you are not capable of running or because of your affliction that made it so.
You thank the gracious septas for their care and ask them if they would pray with you. Unable to deny you, a woman so devout and so... pitiful, they help you get on your knees and you recite The Mother's prayer together. At some point, you begin to weep, and once more it becomes increasingly harder for you to breathe. The septas have to stop praying and attend to you again.
"Princess!"
You are made to sit down on the floor. The two septas are replaced with two men, both dressed in steel, one as seemly as the other, albeit the mark of abject concern on their face. You frown as you look between Arryk and Erryk's worried features. Your scratch your eyes as they speak to you. The weight in your chest makes it hard to understand.
You hiccup as one of them scoops you into their arms. You do not realize you were being carried out of the temple until you are outside. "Wait," you sigh when you managed to catch a breath, "wait."
Whoever is carrying you does not hear it, but his brother does. He says, "wait, Erryk. What is it, princess?"
"I wish to pray," you mutter, eyes still wet with tears, "please."
Arryk looks at you. Erryk shakes his head, "we have to bring her inside."
"Erryk," Arrryk knits his brows, "she wishes to pray."
"She is in no condition to—" Erryk's words falter when your hand comes to his cheek.
You feel your lips tremble and you barely manage to speak, "please."
A line forms between his brows at the sound of your weak voice, "my prin-"
"Erryk," you stroke his cheek, "I need this."
Arryk looks between you and his brother. He watches him sigh and turn back. He follows after Erryk as he goes up the stairs, back towards the shrine.
You are placed before the Mother once more. You sigh and allow yourself repose before shifting on your knees. The twins leave you to your prayers, standing by not too far off.
Erryk's eyes remain on you. Arryk's eyes remain on Erryk.
"You tread a dangerous path, brother."
Erryk does look away.
Arryk sighs, turning his gaze over to you.
You sit on your knees, one arm rested on the plinth as you take a stick and light it. You whisper, "mummy," then light a candle, "me," then light another. Your soft whispers flutter in the echo chamber.
Both twins feel fangs rip into their stomachs as they watch you. Erryk's features are more honest to it however, which is why Arryk catches it and speaks again, "you are sworn to her, you fool."
"And you are not?" Erryk snaps, turning to his twin.
The brothers stare at each other for a moment. Arryk purses his lips and tilts his head, "I am not in love with her."
"Then leave," Erryk motions with a nod. He shifts in his spot, linking his hands together as he turns back back to you.
Arryk snorts and clenches is hands. His ears perk at the sound of your hushed sobbing. His heart clogs his throat.
Erryk sighs through his nose, "you are still here."
"I cannot leave her."
Erryk turns to Arryk, "then you are just as foolish as I."
"I-" Arryk starts. He cannot look away from you, "... I am sworn to her."
"She is beautiful," Erryk says.
Arryk finally tears his gaze only to shoot his brother a warning look, but Erryk's eyes are back on you.
"She wove flowers into my hair mere hours ago," he knits his brows, "she laughed and beamed and glimmered," Erryk sighs, "now she crumbles and weeps and hurts."
Arryk knits his brows, just as deep as his twin's.
You wipe your tears as you soothe yourself. You voice goes low again as you continue to pray.
"I am not a fool," Arryk says
Erryk laughs dryly, turning to him, "very well. If y-"
"I know she is beautiful," Arryk cuts him off.
His lips flatten.
Arryk gulps, "outside and within."
"As I said," Erryk replies, "just as foolish."
"I do not understand what could posses someone to hurt such a creature."
"Perhaps there is no soul to posses."
Arryk shakes your head, "you cannot allow your anger to get ahead of yourself, fool. You are glad the prince did not notice."
"The prince is too caught up in himself to notice anything that does not directly a..." Erryk's words go dry.
Arryk knits his brows, finding his twin was staring at something behind him. He looks over, stiffening when he catches the very person they were speaking of walking over.
Daemon makes a beeline towards you. He stops just behind you, lips and brows tense at the sound of your evidently upset voice. "Should you be doing this?"
You perk at the sound of the voice and look over your shoulder. You stare at Daemon, unsure if you were imagining him or if he was really there. You find that you don't really care, "will you pray with me?"
He does not like that you do not answer his question. He shifts on his spot, "did you faint or fall out of breath?
You turn back to the candles, "you must not be real."
"What?"
"I do not think my husband would care," you mutter, clasping your hands together in prayer.
Daemon does not move.
"You would pray with me then," you add, "you are kind."
The prince's face contorts. He feels like he is choking. He comes to your side, slowly dropping to his knees. He clasps his hands together, propping his elbows in front of him. He is taken aback by how you rest your head on his shoulder with no hesitation. He stiffens and a part of his mind screams to shove you away. He does nothing of the sort however.
"I tire," you admit.
"Then we sh-"
"Tell him to grant me my prayer."
Daemon slowly turns his head to look at you. He sees the way the tears trickle down from the bridge of your nose, "tell who?"
"The Stranger."
Daemon turns to the statue of the Mother. He wants to be difficult and tell you to simply move to the other statue, but instead he asks, "what is your request?"
"Death."
He turns back to you, expecting you to name a name. You do not, so he asks again, "your father?"
Your brows furrow, "no."
He turns to his hands. An unnamable emotion seizes him, "so... your husband?"
You finally lift your head. You turn to him, a deep frown on your face, "I do not wish you harm, Daemon."
He turns to you.
New tears burn down your cheeks.
A new unnamable emotion seizes him at the sight of your wobbling lips.
The twins find themselves looking away when the prince wipes your cheek.
You lean into his touch, "I have prayed for the same thing every night since I was ten."
Daemon's forehead curls, "what do you pray for?"
"To die."
The hand he had on your face tenses.
"It is pointless," you push his hand away, retreating from his touch, "my pain does not subside. My heart and flesh grow weaker each day."
Daemon is uneasy as you turn back to the Mother. He shakes his head, "I do not think the gods listen to such sinful prayers."
"Sin?" you chuckle under your breath.
Somehow your laughter sounds sadder than your weeping.
"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision.
The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."
You stare at his outstretched palm, then look up at him as he stands. You are loathe to move. You do not think you can, even if you wanted to, "I tire."
He leans over, draping your arm around his shoulders, "I'll bring you to bed."
You say nothing as Daemon pulls you in and carries you in his arms.
For the final time tonight, another unnamable emotions seizes him. It only further intensifies when you rest your head in the crook of his neck.
#daemon fanfic#daemon targaryen x reader#daemon targaryen#daemon x reader#daemon targaryen fanfic#daemon smut#daemon targaryen smut#daemon fluff#daemon targaryen fluff#arryk cargyll fanfic#gwayne hightower fanfic#house of the dragon fanfic#erryk cargyll fanfic#house of the dragon smut#hotd fanfic#hotd smut#daemon angst#daemon targaryen angst#daemon#daemon targeryan#house of the dragon
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bad cooking • spencer reid
a teeny tiny blurb in which, during a playful argument, reader injures herself in the kitchen. bf!spencer proceeds to tend to her small wound and (lightly) lecture her.
warnings: sharp things, brief desc of injuries/blood
a/n: is it a problem all my writing has been food related lately?
———————————౨ৎ———————————-
“You do not have an oral fixation.” Spencer said firmly, chopping the tomatoes.
“You know what-“ you sighed. “I think that I do!”
Before long, Spencer had chopped the vegetables and dumped them in the pot, the soothing smell of vodka pasta in the making filling your kitchen.
“Freuds theories are highly debatable. He himself was severely mentally ill- trusting him for advice on child development would be like.. trusting an eighteenth century plague doctor to administer a vaccine.” He chided, watching you strain out the pasta.
“Still, he was a pioneer in neuroscience-“ you retaliated. “He made his theories the same way anyone else did.. pattern recognition! You have to admit there’s at least some validity to the ego and the ID.”
He sighed, turning up the heat on the pan.
“You have been biting your nails all night because you have an anxiety disorder and one too many glasses of wine- not because you were neglected.”
“I was formula fed! Don’t you think that might be the reason-“” You said, your tone rising a bit. Shaky hands navigated to the drawer, pulling out a large kitchen knife and grabbing a bulb of garlic from the basket.
“Okay, maybe I just need some alcohol. You know- you’re too stubborn for your own good.” He chuckled, shaking his head.
“Now-“ you turned to meet his gaze, and- in your emotion, fumbled with the knife. “I think that’s..”
He winced when he saw your wound- “you’re bleeding.”
“What?”
As soon as you looked down, your brain became cognizant to the pain. Red hot pain shooting up your arm, crimson pooling on the side of your index finger and dripping onto the cutting board, defiling the garlic.
You huffed in frustration. “Ow! You distracted me, I wouldn’t have-“
He smiled, grabbing a paper towel. He wrapped his arms around you from behind, planting a kiss on the side of your cheek and wrapping your finger, applying pressure.
“We don’t.. need to argue about whose fault it is.”
“Well..” you pouted. “I totally ruined the garlic.”
“The pasta is fine, I promise you onion is perfectly satisfactory. Anyway, it’s almost done.”
He trailed off down the hall, coming back with a bandaid. He wrapped it tight around your finger, oaken eyes meeting yours as you wrinkled your nose at the stinging sensation. “Better?”
“..I guess. Still mourning that garlic.”
“The pasta-“ he sighed. “Is just fine.” Grabbing a forkful straight from the pot, he placed a hand underneath and held it up to you. “Here. For your oral fixation.”
You stuck your tongue out at him, tentatively taking a bite. The soothing tomato flavor calmed your nerves, as did his hand on yours.
“Wow.. not bad.”
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hi your amnesiac au has me in SHAMBLES plsplspls im crying sobbing stabbing the floor
im so glad i discovered your blog 😭 your art is so lovely and nice and just. Yes. eats everythibg snd leaves no crumbs /silly
PLEASE i require more info about amnesiac au.
could this happen to the other Beasts? if it can happen to Shadow Milk, it might be possible with the others, should their Ancient counterparts get lucky with their attacks
does Shadow Milk gradually become less of an ass? does he seek answers as to Why he was so awful? does he care at all?
how horrified is he at the revelation that he was such a huge issue for the faeries + PV, if at all? he already doesn't know much about himself, so would not knowing he was such a problem, such an awful person, terrify him, considering he doesn't remember any of this?
idk. i personally would be so so incredibly horrified and terrified that i was so terrible and..well, monstrous, if i may. i kinda project onto Shadow Milk im ngl so that's probably why im saying any of this
IM SORRY THIS IS SO LONG im just so,,, AAAUAGTHYBHLRHTLBFLTTKG /POS abt this entire au. hoenstly it inspires me; both your art and your ideas and concepts
hope you have a good day!! stay safe /gen
SOBS IM SO GLAD YOU LIKE THIS AU!!! i read all the tags on my posts btw so if any of u went crazy in there i saw it and went crazy w u. im deranged and mentally ill if u cant tell.
i would say the cracking of the souljam and loss of power is very possible for the other beasts! the amnesia however is a Very special case of pure vanilla fucking up the spell he cast
the other beasts would be depowered and much weaker, but retain their memories...... actually, would their corruption break as well since the souljam disconnected entirely from them? hm, i think redemption would be more possible if an ancient got a lucky shot, in that case
shadow milk does in fact become less of a jerk! what with no longer being secluded in a spire losing his mind and sense of identity all by himself, his personality is forced to become. eh. LESS THORNY.
pure vanilla is socializing him like a dog and he is NOT enjoying it. but i am. put that guy in situations.
shadow milk does in fact seek answers to why he did so many terrible things! he knows his... current personality isn't the greatest, but he can't imagine doing some of the things described
he feels a certain disconnect to the him others describe terrorizing them to the him of present, while he feels bad for what happened to them he doesn't really feel apologetic because was it really him? how's he supposed to know?
should he feel sorry because it technically was him, just.. evil? would that excuse it if he doesn't feel sorry at all?
this is where shadow milk and white lily have similar dilemmas because they both have previously done terrible things to others, especially pure vanilla. they feel bad about it, they dont wanna hurt him or others like that ever again
but then this is where they separate because shadow milk doesn't feel at fault, he doesn't remember doing all those things, he doesn't even know who that was! you want me to grovel forever about it? pathetic, what's done is done anyways, why not try to do something now?
white lily absolutely despises that mindset as she's competing with pv over who can hate themselves more, and she is winning. she thinks they both deserve to repent forever for their crimes but is constantly reminded of the fact that she remembers but shadow milk doesn't! she knows what she did, why she did it, it was bad and terrible, but she understands and that's what's important and she must repent for it
shadow milk doesn't know, he doesn't know anything at all and theres even more that they can't tell him as he's apparently been evil for centuries. it's hard to argue that he needs to feel bad when the personalities are truly separated.
......i went on a ramble again.
he doesn't feel bad about what he did but he is in fact, very unnerved that he may be capable of those actions again, and with pure vanilla trying to teach him to be good and kind its...... panic inducing sometimes, that maybe he can do something terrible again, that the evil is possibly just lurking under the surface and hes fooling himself and everyone around him
#milkyflock#amnesiac au#shadow milk cookie#im not tagging all the cookies mentioned thats too much dear lord#i went offfff oh im so crazy guys u dont get ut#im so inactive artwise but i swear im thinking hard abt this au at any given moment#words are also difficult. and im scared of people. and i forget.#oh no#okay anyone in my tags reading this gets to know my super secret answer to milkyflocks q in the tags of another post#PURE VANILLAS MOTIVATIONS HEH#he helped smilk out of guilt ofc. he attacked him and as the jesus cookie he must make up for it with his savior complex#but in a little thing i wrote hehe...... theres something under the surface of that want to help#to see smilk so vulnerable. eyes so clear of his usual mischief and plotting and Distance...#wasnt that fount of knowledge so much like him? wasnt the holder of knowledge just like him before everything?#he wanted to know shadow milk so badly...#is it so wrong to keep him?#ask
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What's your stance on Ford as a person? Honestly, I believe that for thr majority of canon he is a bad person. But I believe he grew. Still not great though XD
(Love him anyways obvs)
I disagree entirely! I think he's equally as good a person as any of the other main cast.*
*Except Mabel, who, as we all know, is always right about everything.**
(**This is a lighthearted joke. For the love of god, I don't want Mabel discourse in my inbox.)
His biggest sins in the show:
After telling his brother that he was thinking about changing their shared life plans, and then discovering that his brother had gone to the high school that night for no good reason and gone to the science fair for no good reason and messed around near Ford's science project for no good reason and broke it and didn't tell Ford about it... Ford believed Stan did it intentionally and held a grudge for it. You know what, it WOULD be pretty damn hard to believe it was an accident.
Hilariously ill-equipped to cope with Fiddleford's mental health. A guy who responds to "I have anxiety" with "have you tried yoga, it helps me" isn't a bad person, he's clueless. "Character cheerfully enacts a bad idea while a loved one in the background goes NO PLEASE DON'T DO THAT" describes half the episodes of Gravity Falls.
Was successfully manipulated by a professional manipulator into believing his best friend wished him ill. Man, what a terrible person Ford is for being manipulated by a manipulator and saying cruel things to somebody he'd been genuinely convinced was trying to harm him.
??? Didn't say thanks to a guy he was still mad at after the guy fixed a problem he himself had caused. This is a solitary example of stubborn bad etiquette, jesus christ. There's half a dozen different reasons why it makes perfect sense Ford wasn't in the right mindset to feel grateful, this is not something worth indicting his entire character over.
He had high ambitions, which everyone seems to lambast him for, but high ambitions that wouldn't have required doing anybody harm! (Until the professional manipulator started manipulating him into harming the people around him, but we are going to demonstrate some reading comprehension and not blame Ford's underlying morality as a person for things he never would've done if not for Bill's bullying, con artistry, and outright lies.) Like, what is it that he wanted to do with his life? Use his talents to get rich and famous? Shit, that's exactly what Stan wanted to do with his life. It's what Dipper fantasizes about doing with his life. Even Mabel, who thinks about her long-term future the least, dreams big with her art & performances and is already making big money off cheap-ass commissions. What terrible people they all are, for—let me check my notes here—uhhh... unrealistically fantasizing about achieving success in life by doing the things they're good at.
When their dad accuses Stan of lying as a child, Ford puts his entire summer on the line to defend Stan even though he knows Stan is a habitual liar and has no reason to believe Stan is telling the truth this time.
When his new college roommate he barely even knows gets laughed at for proposing an outlandish scientific theory, his first emotion is outrage at this injustice and he drops everything to convince his already-despondent roommate that he was right and help him prove it beyond a shadow of a doubt.
When he moves to a new town, he tries again and again to befriend his new neighbors, and fails not because he's rude or a jerk, but because he's awkward as hell, tells terrible jokes, and sucks at identifying phoenixes.
When Fiddleford gets hurt around him, he cares about it, feels guilty about putting him in that position, doesn't want it to happen again, and tries his best to help even though he's bad at helping.
When he gets kidnapped by a weird holiday folklore creature, he concludes without even thinking about it that he's now in charge of protecting and rescuing the kidnapped kids. Yeah, then he immediately starts hollering at the folklore creature for trying to impose his religious beliefs on Ford and the kids—but like, Ford was right tho, he just had bad timing.
When he discovers that the Northwest family committed atrocities against their poorer neighbors a century ago, his first instinct is to march up to their house, find the first Northwest he can locate, and give them a piece of his mind for it. Like, this won't even FIX anything. He's just THAT OUTRAGED over the injustice.
When he sees what he thinks is a fortune telling fraud conning the people, he attempts to debunk her because he's mad to see someone cheating other people with lies—and when he can't debunk her, he just leaves her alone rather than harass her about it. Typically, if assholes think somebody's doing something wrong but don't have any proof of it and fail to get proof when they look, they decide they're right anyway and keep giving that person shit. Ford doesn't give her shit. That's the opposite of an asshole move.
When he discovers his Portal To Knowledge (And Fame & Fortune) is actually a Portal To Doom (But Still Possibly Fame & Fortune, Maybe Even Godly Power), he isn't tempted for a second to keep working on it anyway. There is no moment where Bill manages to tempt him. No matter what Bill offers, no matter how long Bill offers, never, at ANY point, does Ford have a SECOND of "but what if I did make a deal with the devil?" the way so many heroes in similar situations often do.
You ever notice that? So often moral moments in the show are presented as choices the characters make. Will or won't Dipper give Bill a "puppet" in exchange for knowledge. Will or won't Stan fight a pterodactyl to protect Mabel's pig. Will or won't Mabel hand Bipper the journal. Ford is never given a "will or won't he" moment over Bill's threats, offers of friendship, or offers of infinite power—he steamrolls straight past them without a second of consideration—because, to him, the selfish, cowardly, easy choice ISN'T EVEN AN OPTION. He doesn't even SEE it as making a choice because the possibility of doing the wrong thing is invisible. A character who wavers first before turning Bill down would look more noble for "overcoming" temptation—it's harder to notice just how much stronger Ford's moral compass must be to not even feel temptation in the first place.
Greed and pride never tempt him to join Bill's side. Exhaustion, despair, and fear never tempt him to give up. He bears up under weeks, possibly months of extreme sleep deprivation, physical torture, psychological torture, emotional torture, threats of death, threats of brainwashing, threats to his family. He doesn't hold up so that he can pat himself on the back for being a hero—if that was all it was he would've gone "screw it, this isn't worth it and nobody would know I'm the one who gave up" a week in—he does it because he simply knows it must be done and because he's so isolated (half because of Bill's influence!) that he believes he's the one who must do it, all alone.
Thinking he has to do it by himself isn't egotism or pride; it's helplessness. He thinks no one else stands a chance. He thinks he's alone.
And, when he discovers his Portal To Knowledge is a Portal To Doom, he immediately feels guilty. No trying to deny the situation to protect his ego. No shuffling the blame off to someone else. No "maybe the apocalypse could have a silver lining!" No locking the door and trying to ignore the problem. He blames himself for being fooled—he IMMEDIATELY takes full responsibility for his actions—and he CONTINUES to take responsibility FOR THE NEXT THIRTY YEARS.
He takes more responsibility than is even warranted—he treats himself like he's an idiot for believing in an APPARENT GOD who's been practicing manipulating humans for thousands of years and who had never given Ford reason to believe the portal was anything but what Bill said it was. He beats himself up to no end every single time his past with Bill comes up. He even keeps beating himself up thirty years later when he's shoving warning notes to future readers in Bill's evil unkillable book!
When he falls into the multiverse, he dedicates his entire life NOT to finding a way to rescue himself, but to finding a way to permanently stop the CHAOS GOD who's still at the threshold of destroying Ford's world and countless others. He makes himself a hated criminal in the process, just to stop Bill. He's ready to spend the rest of his life trying to protect a world he doesn't think he'll ever see again. He does it because, as he sees it, somebody has to stand in between the children and the obnoxious folklore cryptid menacing them, and he's the only adult in this damn cave with the skills and knowledge for the job.
When he gets home, he doesn't tell his family about Bill and his quest because he's afraid that doing so will get them involved and endanger them too—and because he's too deeply ashamed of himself and his mistakes to stand the thought of his family knowing about the horrible things he's done (AGAIN, WHILE BEING MANIPULATED BY THE GOD OF MANIPULATION).
He loves his great-niece and great-nephew the second he lays eyes on them; he nevertheless tries to steer away from them to keep them safe from Bill; and yet he caves to the very first temptation to emotionally bond with his great-nephew he gets, because in spite of his noble "keep them safe" intentions, he wants so so badly to be close to his family.
As pissed as he still is at Stan and even though neither of them can look at each other without hissing like cats, he still makes an attempt to start bridging their divide by inviting him to play DD&MD.
When the apocalypse happens, he immediately puts his life on the line to try to kill Bill.
And when he's captured, isn't fazed for a second by Bill's offers or threats... until his family is threatened. The exact thing he'd been trying to avoid & prevent from the very start.
And when he's reunited with Fiddleford, his immediate reaction is to point out that Fiddleford's well within his rights to hate him—which isn't a new revelation, it's not like Ford had to do any soul-searching to reach this conclusion, he'd concluded that 30 years ago the instant he realized Bill had played him and that he'd been lied to about Fiddleford.
And then he tries to kill Bill again.
And then he's ready to sacrifice his own life to kill Bill—and the only reason he doesn't is because he has a metal plate preventing him from making the sacrifice... but, Stan doesn't have a plate. If Ford hadn't had the metal plate, he would have gladly done the exact same thing Stan did—and he would have thought it was right for him and only him to make that sacrifice, because it's VERY clear he feels (and has felt from the start) that this is all his fault and he's obligated to fix it.
Over and over and over, these are Ford's two defining character traits: getting so pissed off at injustice that his common sense shuts off and he goes into terminator mode until he's righted this wrong as best he can, even when he can't actually do anything about it; and feeling like he's Atlas, weighed down with the full responsibility of fixing everything he's done wrong and made to believe that, for everyone else's sake, he has to do it all alone. Even when doing so puts himself in harm's way, even when he has to put his entire life on hold for it, even if it might cost him his life. Scrape off his awkward social skills, his loneliness, his nerdiness, his endless curiosity, his zealous love of the strange, his starry ambitions, his yearning for recognition and success—scrape his personality down to the bone and that's what you're left with. A man who believes in defending the exploited so strongly that it makes him a little stupid.
I'm gonna go out on a limb and assume that you probably don't think Stan's fundamentally a bad person, and that you probably think that isn't even worth questioning. Stan's made a whole career out of swindling people, conning them out of as much money as he possibly can, stealing, lying, committing a long list of goofily-named crimes, and attempting douchy pick-up artistry on women; and to cap it all off, he held the safety of the entire universe hostage to demand a goddamn "thank you." Don't send me any "But he had reasons—" "But it was only to—" I don't need it, I don't want the essay, I'm not arguing that Stan's a bad guy, it's fine.
But. You can look at Stan's moments of cruelty and unkindness, his uncharitable thoughts, his character flaws, and think, "that doesn't define him. He's more than his cruelest moments and worst mistakes. He's imperfect, but he cares so much and his heart's in the right place, and beneath all the flaws his core is good."
And if you can't do the same for Ford, it's not because he's a worse person. It's because we got two seasons with Stan and five and a half episodes with Ford—and while we saw Stan yearning to fish with the kids or encouraging Mabel to whoop Pacifica's butt at minigolf or crying over a black and white period drama or punching zombies to save his family, we only saw Ford at the worst moments in his life and under the stress of a prolonged apocalyptic crisis—and, it so happens, all the moments he was pissed at the guy we spent two seasons learning to love.
Ford's got moments of cruelty and unkindness, uncharitable thoughts, and character flaws. But, at his core, he's a good person, and he always has been, and he still is.
#anonymous#ask#gravity falls#grunkle ford#ford pines#(note to self: when you see an ask that makes you go 'god i don't wanna get into this; i'll type something quick & punchy and move on'—)#(—do NOT start typing something 'quick & punchy' when your adhd meds are wearing off.)#(they WILL last just long enough for you to snap into a hyperfocus but not long enough for you to have the power to stop typing.)#(i'm thirsty.)#meta
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Can you do the boys with a mentally unwell reader? Like she has depression, ocd, or anxiety that she takes medication for?
S/O Who Faces Mental Illness- The Love And DeepSpace Men
parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader tags: ( for all ) mentioning of depression/ depressive episodes, ocd rituals, anxiety/ social anxiety a/n: hi anonnie ! ♡⸜(˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝ sorry this took awhile, this was sitting in my drafts and i would keep coming back to it. i just wanted to make sure this topic is handled with care. i know that everyone has different types of depression, anxiety, and ocd so i wrote the ones that i'm familar with and gone through. i hope this was okay lmk ! ̤̮
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Xavier:
Xavier has always been such an attentive lover to you and he’s grown increasingly worried as he observed your unhealthy habits. He notices how you spend more time in bed than usual, longer than he would stay in bed. How you seem disinterested in eating, even if it were foods you typically enjoyed. Noticing how these impacts have affected you, he has made the effort to educate himself better on what you’re going through to understand and support you better.
If you were taking any medications, he'll read the entire packet that came with it or look up as much information he can online. He'll try to remember all the side effects that comes with it and makes sure to check up on you whenever you take them.
He notices when your energy plummets so it’s his duty to take care of you. He tries to make everything easy for you. He’ll make sure to tuck both of you in bed, turning off the lights when you both get ready, making sure to have food delivered when you wake up. Xavier encourages you to take a walk outside with him, helping you get some fresh air and encouraging you to step out of bed. He’ll hold your hand the entire time.
Distractions were one of the ways he could get your mind off any anxious thoughts or from any of your OCD rituals. He'll have a list of your favorite things to do and see if it helps. He'll stay with you in bed all day if that's what you need and wouldn't let you isolate yourself. Will also build a fort to cuddle you up in and have you tucked in his arms.
Anytime you two were out and you started to feel drained, then he'll take you back home. You two can stay in and cuddle.
He never pushes you beyond your comfort levels. If there was any situation where you started to feel uncomfortable, then he'll lead the situation and you somewhere else that sets you more at ease.
Zayne:
Zayne is no stranger to the topics of mental illness. He’s gone through extensive studies and many clinical experiences with patients. But with you, it's different. Your struggles aren’t just a clinical case to him, they’re personal. He’s acutely attuned to subtle changes of your mood and actions. He notices the quiet shifts in your expressions, or the way your eyes dull and lose their sparkle. Even though it’s hard to read through his expressions, it truly does hurt him to see you suffer. Your internal pain that you battle inside hurts him more than words can convey.
If you were to go through a depressive episode and you feel like you can’t do everything you need, then Zayne has no problem doing the extra housework or helping you with your physical health. He would reassure you to not feel guilty even though he’s busy with his work or any paperwork's. You have done so much as a loving partner to him and he will always return the favor for you.
He’ll help you shower and dress you up. He'll make sure to brush your hair gently and that you brush your teeth. He’ll even make sure you eat enough and he’ll praise you for taking every bites.
He’s always there for you. Even if he was in the middle of work, he would remind you to never hesitate to reach out whenever you feel isolated or just needed to vent, anything. Spam him, leave voice messages- he’ll read every word and listen to each message and reply with care. No matter how busy he might be, he’ll find a way to call you as soon as he can. He wants to make sure you’re okay and to remind you that you’re never alone, even when he’s away. Your well-being matters so deeply to him that he’s committed to be there for you in every possible way.
He'll keep note of all the side effects you've experienced with your medications, so he's aware of the potential issues that might arise when you take them. Will send you texts reminding you to take your meds at the right time and to make sure you eat before you take them so you don’t get nauseous.
He’s a very attentive and caring partner, he pays close attention to the triggers of your OCD and observes the coping mechanisms you have. He notices your struggle with hand washing compulsions and understands how these rituals can take a toll on you. He’ll try to help you by pointing out that excessive hand washing can actually be harmful, as it washes away the beneficial ones that your body needs.
He'll be very reassuring when you feel the need to constantly check up on things. He won't judge you for it but instead he'll offer to check on it himself and reassure you that everything is okay.
It wouldn’t be new to him to avoid places that were crowded or super noisy. He would know where all the less crowded and quiet places are. At this point, he already had taken the time to understand your triggers and sources of anxiety. He just wanted to be well-informed so he can help you avoid these situations and provide the support and care you need.
If you were to experience an anxiety attack, he remains calm and patient and helps you try to breathe. Whenever you need to vent, he’s always there for you. He’ll let you curl up on his lap while you talk, gently stroking your hair. Although he’s quiet while you talk, you know he listens to every detail and he doesn’t want to interrupt you. After you finish sharing, he’ll offer advice or discuss the situation to help you work through it together.
Rafayel:
He knows that you were going through significant struggles because it often kept you doing certain things with him. There are times when the weight of your depression and anxiety feels so heavy that it drains your motivation, making your favorite hobbies or simply just doing anything seem out of reach. Sometimes the intensity of your OCD leads you to stay up, unable to rest because you repeatedly check things like the light switches, doors, windows, and everything else in the house.
OCD is a topic that Rafayel wouldn’t tease or be playful on with you. He notices the small things when you repeat patterns or prefer certain number sets. He’s very patient and understanding about this topic but anytime you feel as if your ocd ritual was messed up, he is quick to run to your side and reassure you that everything will be okay.
Rafayel has been in a dark place himself so he knows the signs when you’re struggling. Whether you’ve been through this over and over again, he’ll help you through this every single time. If you don't have the energy to take a shower or a bath, then he’ll simply carry you and wash you himself. He’ll join you and use your favorite bath bomb scents and make it a little fun by blowing bubbles at you. A smile would curl up on his lips when he sees you smiling again.
He wouldn’t force you to talk. He’ll do most of the talking and hopefully it takes your mind off anything you were anxious about. When you are ready to talk, he’ll praise you. It’s a big step forward in healing and he would be listening attentively to everything you say.
Rafayel would text you throughout the day and ask how you were feeling. He's always there at your beck and call. If you need anything, he already has it and he's on his way to you.
If you were out in public and you started to feel uneasy, he would lead you somewhere else. Rafayel would always be holding your hand for security and to make sure you were always right by his side. He doesn't mind wherever you both go, as long as he's with you. He makes sure that you two can go to places that aren't crowded or noisy but still enjoyable and fun for the both of you.
He’s very worried whenever you take medications. He knows that they can have some mean and nasty side effects and that’s the last thing he would want you to go through. He’ll always make sure to check up on you a couple hours later to see how you’re holding up.
Sylus:
It does not take him long to notice you were acting off. Nothing can get past this man and he doesn’t want you to feel like you have anything to hide from him. No matter what the issue is, he isn’t leaving your side and you’ll both work on the issue together. He doesn’t want you to go through anything alone.
When you feel empty and you simply want to sink into your bed and lay there motionless because everything in the world was just too much, Sylus will not hesitate to take action. He’ll make sure you're eating nutritious meals by calling his private chefs or he’ll make them himself. He’ll sit right beside you and watch you take enough bites or he’ll spoon feed it to you himself. Sylus would make sure to tell you that you were doing so well even if the bites were big or small. After you are done eating, he’ll make sure that you take all your meds and check up on you if any of the side effects arise.
He’ll be right by your side at any doctor's appointments. He’ll carry you to the bathroom himself or he’ll use his evol to help wash, dry, and dress you up. Sylus would encourage you as well to go on walks with him so your body is still moving and so you can get some fresh air. He does all of this because he loves you and he doesn’t want you to lose any of the progress you made. He knows your capabilities and he knows you will get through this. He’ll be right by your side the entire time.
When he notices that your OCD rituals are becoming overwhelming, he doesn't hesitate to step in to help. He finds engaging activities for the both of you to do so it steers your focus away from the obsessive thoughts. Understanding how OCD can distort your perceptions, he uses distractions as a way to gently pull you out of that obsessive cycle.
Sylus would let you know that he’s accessible. Whenever you need him, feel free to call him any time and he’ll drop anything and come by to help you.
Don't even bother brushing off any of your issues. Anything that bothers you, he's always there to listen and help you. He’s a great listener and he never judges you for any problems you had and the reason behind your behavior. His shoulder is for you to lean on, cry on, laugh on, and hold on, etc. He’s understanding and wants you to be happy again.
When he’s away, he will have food delivered to you. He’ll make sure you eat and that you take your meds right after by calling or texting to remind you. Or he’ll just send Mephisto to you. He’ll caw/squawk repeatedly until you finish your meals.
#xavier x reader#xavier x you#xavier x y/n#zayne x reader#zayne x you#zayne x y/n#rafayel x reader#rafayel x you#rafayel x y/n#sylus x reader#sylus x you#sylus x y/n#xavier love and deepspace#zayne love and deepspace#rafayel love and deepspace#sylus love and deepspace#xavier lads#zayne lads#rafayel lads#sylus lads#love and deepspace#love and deepspace x reader#love and deepspace fic#love and deepspace scenarios#lads x you#lads x reader
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The big thing about the ending of Arcane is that it tries so hard to be a hopeful ending and a tragic ending at the same time, and they end up canceling each other out to create the most stagnated and frustrating ending instead, because none of it feels genuinely earned.
On the one hand, the audience is expected to think Caitvi being together again at this point is a good thing, and we get that vague implication of Jinx being alive, and the briefest glimpse of Sevika at the table. All that is very much trying to convey some semblance of hope for the future, that change is slow but that things are moving forward. The thing is, every part of this presentation at the end falls flat because of the lack of satisfying build here.
The Caitvi reconciliation is rushed, Caitlyn's redemption even moreso, and the actual weight of her actions has gone ignored by the narrative in favor of servicing a happy ending for the writers' pet. Vi's so-called "happy ending" being her declaring herself dirt in her lover's nails is oddly self-deprecating for what's meant to be an ending in her putting herself and her happiness first.
Sevika not so much as getting a speaking role in act 3 severely diminishes any impact her character may have had here, and she's still very obviously outnumbered among the council. She doesn't get to speak to Jinx. She doesn't get to reconcile with Vi. She doesn't even get a diplomatic word in. For all intents and purposes, she's become the council's diversity hire, because the council operates on majority vote, and Sevika isn't a diplomat. Who's to say she won't be spoken over and voted against at every turn?
The hints to Jinx being alive being subtle but shown are, in and of themselves, not the problem. The problem is just how much time is spent with her character in s2 glorifying the idea of her killing herself. Suicidal ideation within a mentally ill character isn't shocking, but it is something that shouldn't be overtly glorified within the text, and Jinx's decision to fake her death immediately following an actual suicide attempt and every chance that she could actually die, without the audience actually seeing Jinx for herself post-escape, leads to the worst possible depiction of a martyr- one who wanted to kill herself, and is celebrated for doing so. Show-don't-tell isn't useful when you do it for every major arc, and it makes Jinx's escape cheapen because, for all intents and purposes, she did kill herself. She killed Powder and Jinx, and while, yes, it was to break the cycle and free herself from identities prescribed by others, it's done in a way that's seriously damaging for real people who struggle with the same ideation.
Then, on the backhand, we have the tragedy part of the ending. Mel having to return to Noxus, Jayvik dying in the Arcane, and Ekko being left alone in Zaun. All of this is adequately tragic, yes, but it's also deeply unsatisfying, and also kind of racist.
Mel's character as a clever politician and manipulator being tossed aside in favor of a setup for the Black Rose setup is already disappointing as-is, but she loses everyone. Literally everyone. That mattered to her. Ambessa succeeds in forcing her hand to violence, and then dies. Her brother is dangled in front of her face, and then taken away. Jayce goes missing, comes back jaded to her, and then dies with Viktor and leaves her alone. She's forced to become 'the wolf', shifting her story into one of brute-force power, and makes her become the strong one that survives everything and the one to take down Ambessa with power. Gone are the days of diplomatic power struggles and investigation. No, she must embrace her inner warrior goddess power to be effective here.
Similarly, Ekko loses everyone. He'd already lost most of his family, and led the Firelights out of necessity for the people of Zaun because of how quickly he was forced to grow up. But now, Vi, who returned to him after years, lives in Piltover with her cop girlfriend, and the two don't interact once in the entire season. It's like their entire friendship was forgotten. He loses Heimerdinger to the alternate timeline, who, like Jinx, appears to die, but as an immortal being, is actually just reforming in that timeline again. He's abandoned by his supposed mentor because he didn't feel like going back to the timeline he'd failed to help despite his age and supposed responsibility, leaving Ekko to be the responsible one. And of course, Ekko also loses Powder and Jinx again, being sent into an alternate timeline just to be teased about what could've been with Powder, wrench himself back to reality and save Jinx, only for her to supposedly die succeeding in blowing herself up anyways. He's the only important character from Zaun that stays in Zaun, and he has to bear the burden of taking care of Zaun alone because, as stated previously, Sevika is now on the council and has to operate through the council.
Both of the leading black characters are forced to bear the responsibility of constant perseverance and survival, looking over the rest of the cast and getting things done but losing everything and everyone they love. It's Mel and Ekko who must bear the cross of parentification, being denied their safe places or loved ones in service of being the Strong Ones. In season 1, this was a role that Vi once played back when the show still cared about her, being the older sister that couldn't be the role model she needed to be no matter how hard she tried, while Mel had her diplomatic strengths and wasn't expected to bear the brunt of war against Noxus, and that felt more natural, because Ekko's responsibilities in the face of Silco's Zaun felt like an actual critique of the parentification of young black people in marginalized communities. Season 2 takes that and makes it unironic. No, Ekko is just strong like that, but it's so tragic. Look, we're gonna build an entire timeline about it. No, Mel must be Strong Badass Woman With Powerful Magic Power. Uhh, the show's called Arcane, she has to have magic, right? Can't have a main character with no big fat weapon, so let's take that protective golden shield she can make and make her have Secret Wolf Powers.
Jayce and Viktor's entire story for the second season sucks. Jayce had so much setup as a political figure, and was completely primed to be taken advantage of by Ambessa after the first season. His almost losing Viktor to Jinx's attack should've made him angrier to ever before. Instead, he just quits his councilman position offscreen and becomes the one to discover that the arcane is actually just inherently evil. Oopsies! His and Viktor's life's work has been degraded into doomed to fail territory. No good intentions would've ever saved any part of their work, and the arcane itself is now the villain, rather than Piltover's greed and the desire to weaponize it and exert control over others. No, this is just an inherent part of the worldbuilding, like any good eeeeeeevil magic that's evil because the author needs it to be.
Viktor, meanwhile, is punished for becoming a eugenicist, despite the fact his so-called 'eugenics' from the first season was him wanting to not slowly die. He was hacking up blood on the hexcore! But searching for a way to cure the sick and eugenics got conflated in season 2, so his becoming a jesus figure that healed the sick and injured and addicted had to be villainized to match his LoL persona somehow. So everyone he turned became servants he could puppet at will, and became a eugenics metaphor, playing on a self-hatred that Viktor did have, but bastardized it with 'ooooo eeeevil arcaaaaane' and absolves Viktor himself of any responsibility for it. When Jayce does reach him, it's a speech about imperfections, even though the reason Viktor began in the first place was because he was DYING, and the reason he continued was because he got infected with the Arcane instead of his own complex urging him forward after a near-death experience.
There's no hope in the ending, because anything meant to illicit hope has a bad buildup, or no buildup at all. The tragedy of the ending feels unearned because it ignores who the characters were in the first season outright; it's not a matter of them having just changed after their arcs in season 1. They're just unrecognizable, and/or poorly utilized. It's a bad ending to a shitty sequel season that only makes you feel frustrated for having watched it in the first place.
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HII!!
SOOO.. i decided to start writing!! For the eltingville club! (They would hate me but shh..) I ran out of fics in a day.. so I'm doing God's work and supplying 🫡 (i actually have experience writing fics but got logged out of that accouht... and it was a different Fandom so good luck)
Anyway enough of my background stuff, here's fem! dating headcannons for all of the eltingville boys, plus a poly one 👅
Cw! SFW BUT SUGGESTIVE STUFF SAID BEYOND THIS POINT! Like lowkey could ne nsfw to someone but not to me.. Bill is still kinda a misogynist, but nicer. Pete is a little freak. I have a small preference for writing bill ... so sorry if his is longer 💔 pete has little siblings , poly is shorter bc I ran out of ideas 💔
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Bill
♡He .. to put it nicely sucks at most things. He's never done this before! Give him a break.. he gifts you small things from time to time that corelate to your interests, saying something like "here women god .."
♡He hates the club seeing you. He'll brag about you sure, but he doesn't want their filthy eyes to see you. He knows where they'd be looking
♡He isn't the best at affection so he'll normally just keep his arm around you, or hand on your thigh. He doesn't know what women like be nice to him
♡Will rant for HOURS about his interests, if you share some, he'll then quiz you about the lore , calling you fake if you mess up. He's a "Name five characters" type of man..
♡He starts to shower and use chapstick more, brushes his hair, the whole nine yards. But only if he knows you're coming to see him. He doesn't find showering necessary
♡Tries to be a manly macho man (he's failing). He wants you to rely on him because "that's a man's job" , even if you end up having him rely on you..
♡He dreams about you. In starteck outfits, in starwars, saving you from the big bad guy, he can't stop! Sometimes, if he's feeling nice, he'll look away from any boob's that the guys end up showing on movies.
♡Has a small staring problem.. he can't help it! Tits that are all his? And aren't imaginary? Jackpot! He's a pervert I'm sorry!
Pete
♡He is definitely always horny.. groping is his love language.
♡Shows you SO many horror movies, and purposely tries to scare you so he can seem 'manly' and cuddle you better
♡He LOVES watching you squirm, knowing you're so vurnable and grossed out/uncomfortable, it does something, but he will stop whatever movie he's watching if it gets too far
♡Will struggle with romance, like he doesn't wanna be seen doing basic normie shit. He wants any gifts or romantic gestures to be special... which normally ends up with a concerning amount of fake? Blood covering the both of you.
♡Loves to watch you cook, and I mean LOVES it. He loves watching you in an apron or even just clothes doing things like a house wife, he loves it.
♡Good with some kids.. (ex his little siblings) but leave him alone with them and you're ASKING for trauma for those poor kids.
♡If you're mentally ill? Great! He loves it, He's into some weird things.. but if you genuinely need comfort he'll try
♡Halloween is sacred to him and you WILL do matching costumes or he will ignore you for the whole night
Josh
♡One of the softer ones out of the boys
♡Everything and Everyone else is so mean amd rough , that he just wants both of you to be sweet and cuddle, he wants you to love him just as much as he loves you
♡He'll banter with you, but will never try to go too far, insecure that you'll leave him.
♡He only yells if he's very mad, he sucks at apologizing though.. so good luck on that part
♡He is so used to everyone being against him, that if you are just on his side, he's head over heels
♡He can't fight for the life of him, the other boys being the only thing that's as weak as him. But he will certainly threaten anyone who's mean to you
♡Gets embarrassed very easily, and tries to best to hide it, point it out and he gets even worse.. he was probably staring at your tits or something
♡He actively tries to have better hygiene for you, and his mom LOVES you for it. She thinks your a saint sent to help her son, and so you are very loved in that house.
Jerry
♡He is definitely the nicest out of all the boys, being gentle, almost treating you like a figure, something to be protected, but one that actually is a person!
♡Definitely rants about future plans in D&D to you, however if you play, he tries not to spoil it, push him and he'll crack though.
♡Loves for you to help him act out the scenes he plans , so he knows if they flow right
♡He loves to get you little gifts, and hide them around where you'll find them.
♡He may be sweeter but he's still like the other boys , has a tendency to whine when under pressure, and a HORRIBLE decision maker, just make them for him atp
♡He tries to be respectful about you and your body, not wanting to upset you, this is the only girl who has ever looked at him, he's so glad for this
♡Cosplays couples with you, like link and Zelda, peach and Mario, ect ect
♡Blushes easily, but LOVES to see you blush, just watching your cheeks tint from something he did? Exhilarating
Poly
♡I imagine, they all date you, they are NOT dating eachother, that's gay. (I'm bi dw)
♡Giving attention is like rolling a dice, get a low roll and they all decide that now NEED attention or they will DIE.
♡They all love to make you voice whatever girl they end up saving in d&d
♡They all will whine like toddlers if you can't make it to a meeting
♡If you all are watching a movie, you will be in the middle, no ifs, ands, or buts, about it.
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And suddenly my ideas ran away
#bill dickey x you#bill dickey x reader#josh levy#josh levy x reader#bill dickey#pete dinunzio#eltingville club#the eltingville club#pete dinunzio x reader#jerry stokes#jerry stokes x reader#jerry stokes x you#Pete DiNunzio x you#Josh levy x you#welcome to eltingville#Eltingville fanfiction#headcanon#Dating headcannons
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DA: The Veilguard Spoiler review pt2 - The Grime
this is a hard one to tackle without strawmaning anyone because itll be a direct response to alot of defense ive seen for the games morality system so ill just start by saying, iykyk
never a genre has been better equipped to discuss ethics than the interactive medium of games and yes, bioware games have been doing it since baldurs gate and no, theyve not always been 'centrist' and 'conservative'. im not even gonna entertain that idea. do you remember the cultural landscape DA:O released to? the landscape it was developed in? dont give me that just because zevran doesnt write in his little notes -that you can conveniently read- 'gay good. not me but me bisexual'
Thedas is a flawed world and its a world thats just as desperate to hang on to its status quo as our own. every time you play an elf thats thriving, or a human thats queer, or a mage thats not institutionalised you exist in a world that doesnt want you, it is an act of defiance that you do.
im sure we can all see why these games were so popular with the audience they can only weakly try to pander to today.
derailing time again; so one of my favourite paintings of all time is saturn devouring his son. it makes me feel so uncomfortable that it gave me nightmares as a child, and i still cant look at it without feeling this knot in my throat. i hate it. i hate how it makes me feel, how that man looks at me in terror like its begging me for help while cannibalising another. weird story but i was bewitched by that painting as a little kid.
it is not a well drawn painting, the proportions are all over the place, brush strokes crude and inelegant. it doesnt even have a deeper story nor was it intended for an audience. i will never know what goya thought of when drawing it.
i thought alot about that painting later in my life when i was struggling with mental health problems, i thought about goya alot too as an adult and after learning about his life. i stared at his paintings and remembered when i told my dad that i hated [saturns] big eyes and hed jokingly said "it would be scarier if he didnt have eyes"
i know what the drawing looks like now, nearly everyone with a little access to the internet does. if somebody removed saturn from it, we'd still be left with a brutalised headless carcass of a man in a canvas too big for itself. if we removed that too all we'd be left with would be void.
i dont want to live in a world where all i know of goya is his rococo work, i dont want to stare at the painting of a void knowing what filled it before. i hated every second of germinale but i never wanted it to be anything other than itself, the story it tells could never hold credence otherwise.
DAV has done its best to paint over it, but its still on the old canvas and i cant look away from the negative space its left, i know whats under it and it unsettles me, infuriates me. it hands me a palette with baby blues and pinks and tells me to paint over it to make a prettier painting. didnt i hate the eyes? wasnt it gross before?
i am not going to write why we need some grime in art, but its absence is disheartening. and to those who say hanged people in the streets or blighted villagers is dark and mature ill say no. its a kids idea of maturity, its the aesthetic of it with no substance. it means nothing to me if rook can just drench themselves in gallons of blight as they crawl through it. the horror of blight has never been the black goo and slimy tentacles, or the monster woman with way too many tits. it is watching people you love slowly fade away, it is a woman who was forced to cannibalise the contaminated flesh of her friends because the woman she loved betrayed her, it was the sheer scale and inevitability of it.
one area we go to is overrun by it and the game begs me to feel hopeful that flowers are growing again when it never let me lose hope. people have already prevailed, they have roofs over their heads and a steady supply of food on their tables. their spirit is unwavering.
its bad, everybody says. the sky is grey and soil is blackened, as my rook turns some statues to access a haunted house whos inhabitants are long gone and the only story they could ever tell is gone with them.
if the question is do i want to see famine? plague? misery? abuse? assault? the answer is yes. yes. i want to see it all of the filth. i rather face the fucking monster head on with its big bulging eyes and misshapen limbs than stare at the abyss its absence leaves on the canvas.
and if nothing else, this bastardization is disrespectful to the people who gave the IP its fame.
Why choose to be good?
back in the bsn days ive wondered why, even in a fictional universe where your choices have no real-life repercussions what-so-ever, players had more 'good' playthroughts than 'bad'?
what happens when you start killing NPCs, when youre needlessly mean to them? the game actively closes off its own content. you get less out of the game. just as, completely incidentally, you'd get less out of your life if you just started killing everyone around you. The world would be emptier, youd be alone.
in that quote i stole from good place chidi doesnt ask "why be good?" the wording is painfully deliberate. doing good is always a choice, and often not the easy one. what makes the act matter is that you chose to do it, even when given 6 other options not to. did i stop in the middle of an important quest to help a man retrieve an heirloom from a darkspawn infested hut? did i hear what that heirloom meant to him?
i cant stop thinking about that speech ever since playing this game after knowing its predecessors.
So, why do it then? Why choose to be good, every day, if there is no guaranteed reward we can count on, now or in the afterlife? I argue that we choose to be good because of our bonds with other people and our innate desire to treat them with dignity. Simply put, we are not in this alone.
i cant stop looking at this game that spits on its own legacy and think how could they have missed what fundamentally makes us human so bad, what makes us relate and empathise with eachother. what makes us pick the option to interact with an npc who openly hates what hawke is, and allow us to see the traumatised man underneath.
these characters of fiction are written by real people. i have absolutely nothing in common with a guy from canada yet for a brief moment in time i feel a sense of camaraderie as ive felt with goya that i couldnt articulate as a kid.
Nothing too terrible
DAV says it over and over again -as its wont to do with every piece of its flimsy morality- that people can change, people can be redeemed yet it shines as the game with most static characters in its franchise. it simply says things, and since it has nothing to show for it it makes sure to say it repeatedly, in case you missed it.
so when i first played DAO i was in high school, i started with a human noble because fresh out of dark side edgy kotor fame i wanted to be a posh brat. also because, ya kno, we were poor my entire life up until that point and i wanted to have power.
i committed to it, even as the game stripped cousland of everything he had, because i thought a man like him would. i picked the racist options, the sexist options, the options a man in couslands place would. halfway point of the game as i exhausted the initial dialogues something happened; this man who got paid to kill people, who showed no remorse nor care for his victims, begged my cousland to stil his blade.
and i did. i thought maybe he would be as confused as i was, maybe he had a moment of clarity but from thereon bit by bit he was less of an asshole. the characters grew around me, and my character grew around them. i chose to be good because -textually- we were in this together, at the end of all things.
rook is not a character, theyre a mascot. and quite frankly i think they may be a very evangelical mascot because they remind me of evangelical preachings of jesus more than the man from the bible (and i say this as someone whos only exposure to christianity has been through foreign media and the bible ive read that one time). they are the epitome of do no evil and their existence hinges on the frail concept of moral purity. theyre not a person trying to do good, who wants to be good, they are 'good'
-and lemme tell you its a wild choice to have someone like that locked in a prison of 'regret'-
rook can be mean to only one person in the game, and thats someone they dont even have a personal beef with for the most part. but even then they would be shouting at a wall because the game doesnt only undermine them with its narrative, but also every npc in the game suddenly gets possessed by the ghost of wattpad rejects past for a moment to tell them everyone can be redeemed. and i believe it because i played the other games, i believe it because i know zevran and sten and morrigan, isabela and thom and iron bull and dorian. i know it because i can see the vague shapes behind the new coat of paint but i am not rook.
so no, the game fails to get people-can-change points by its own merit, and it cannot gain points from its prequels because it destroyed them. none of those characters i watched grow exist in this universe. zevran cant exist with DAV crows, fenris` story cant exist in an imperium with invisible slaves only glimpsed through empty cages and broken chains left scattered on the ground. i dont know which morrigan this NPC is, is it the woman who grew to learn kindness, who begged to sleep with her friend just to save them despite knowing it would play into the plans of a destiny she so desperately tried to break free from? or is she the clever puppet her mother groomed her to be who wanted to harness the power of a god? i dont know her, i dont know this dorian or this isabela beyond their names ipso facto this is not a sequel.
bellara asks an assassin why he is trying to save the world and his answer is "ive done some things in the past im not too proud of. nothing too terrible, but some of it was bad." and i can hear the games desperation for me to not engage with its material in that 'nothing too terrible'
lucanis never killed anyone innocent, taash never harmed an animal they could shoo of or reason with, emmrich venerates the dead and is friends with every wisp he pulls to use in menial labour, davrin joined the wardens willingly because he wanted to do good...
rook tells harding that her anger is justified when shes not even allowed anger of her own.
nothing too terrible.
aside from creating boring and nonsensical and static characters it creates a dreadful echochamber that we're forced to sustain. No taash is not valid, their gender is but their behaviour is not and for the character to grow and mature it needs to be addressed. lucanis doesnt need to be pampered in shock blankets he needs to see how repressing his problems and jeopardising his health puts people around him in danger etc etc. they are adults and they need to learn more complex ways of healing. and if rooks flaw is that theyre an enabler, then that needs to be acknowledged by the narrative in some way too, and not mindlessly endorsed because they say some buzzwords.
none of these interpersonal relationships feels real because none of these people feel real beyond some draft of themes and tropes. some interactions literally remind me of two bots in facebook comments
i look at this dialogue wheel with familiar symbols and all im reminded of is hawke telling carver he carries every death with him, of him telling his uncle that he wasnt fast enough, of him begging the person he loves to tell him that his mothers death wasnt his fault.
and they dont. they just sit there with him.
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