#especially if i make more which i hope i do

[smoky-impressions]

when people continually mistreat you for how you are unmasking, when you assert your needs and boundaries, stop doing things that harm you to please others, grow as a person, go to therapy or do the necessary work to unlearn maladaptive behaviours (not all people can afford / find appropriate and affordable therapy), it is not you who is wrong. of course, you will make mistakes--it's only a lifetime of living behind a mask to undo (/s). you may be too blunt in assertion of needs, or you may become very anxious over changes in the routines of one area of your functioning, resulting in rigidity in another; you may become very, very tired while doing all this work and have much less patience or energy to deal with what others perceive to be minor events / inconveniences, or you may even deal with them poorly as you extend past your limit. people will probably be understandably upset or put-off for a bit, but with those who care about and support you, some time and an apology* should be all that is needed for repair and reconciliation. but if the mistreatment is a pattern and nothing you are doing is changing it, then it is on them. you can make suggestions and offer feedback for how they can help you through this difficult time, but if those asks continually fall on unwilling ears, they are likely not going to change for you (barring their own willingness to go to therapy / do the work).

the expression "stop going to the hardware store for milk" comes to mind. if you are waiting for Rona to stock your favourite 2%, you will deprive yourself waiting for the impossible. maybe that location used to be a grocery store, but they have changed, as are you and your needs. maybe you did not know you needed milk, you grew up without it in the home. that does not change the fact that if you walk into that building and ask for milk, you will be turned around, no matter how much money you have, how many aisles you search, how many trips back to the same store you make, no matter how kindly or desperately you ask. repeating this pattern, you will only deny yourself real love, opportunities for growth and encountering more supportive people, and true understanding of yourself while waiting for the person who is the hardware store in your life to meet you even part way.

while unmasking, you can find out who you are, where your limits lie and where other people had been limiting you with their faulty assumptions and beliefs they hold about you. what do you ACTUALLY like? what makes you look forward to stepping out of the house? not the pre-approved list of things you masked discomfort while doing to please your family members, people you called friends, relationship partners, or work colleagues, but things you would do without them present and without fear or shame holding you back (it can be hard to imagine when you have lived with fear and shame for so long). what do you dislike? where are the 'shoulds' in your life? what activities might you stop to conserve spoons for the things you are truly enjoying?

unmasking is not easy, even with a therapist to help you. expect it to be a long-term project; it is no easy thing to "rewire" neural pathways that have been reinforced for many years out of fear and necessity, especially if the masked behaviours kept you or are keeping you safe. you might have to choose who it is safe to unmask around and you might find out the hard way who does not fit in that category. it is worth it to find those people, i still believe that despite everything. i hope everyone who reads this finds safe people and places from which to procure their emotional "milk".

* an apology should: demonstrate that you understand the harm that your action caused, perhaps a reason for your actions that does not blame the other person nor attempts to absolve you of the wrongdoing, that you regret it, and that you have a genuine willingness and plan to do something differently next time (and that you are open to suggestions of what you can do differently)

My doctor and therapist: now with this autism + ADHD diagnosis you need to learn to unmask because masking all the time will make you burn out again and feel like shit

Other people: well it's just interesting how after getting the diagnosis you suddenly start behaving like that I mean I'm not saying you're faking it's just funny how you suddenly cannot be normal like you were before

[clockwayswrites]

Uncle John Part 2

masterpost

Even though Bruce knew what he was opening the door to, it was still almost startling to see John Constantine shielding two teenagers on the other side. The oldest was a redhead, though Bruce could only tell that from the fierce eyebrows. The hair of both teens had been shaved so close to the scalp that it was basically nonexistent. From what little Bruce could see of the second, behind the protective forms of John and the red head, the second teen’s head was also bandaged from what little Bruce could see under the hood of the thick sweater.

Whatever they had been through was clearly no small matter.

“Who’s all here?” John asked as he entered, looking around the foyer as he slunk into the room.

The kids stayed close to his back.

“Just Alfred and Tim. Alfred is in the kitchen and Tim is up in his room, though he was excited to know that there would be other teens visiting,” Bruce said, keeping his personage open and calm.

Excited was at least an honest enough word for Tim’s curiosity that Bruce had tone his bet to tamper. It didn’t seem the time to pry and Bruce was sure to learn far more as he set up the new identities.

John’s frown said he knew exactly what excited meant for Tim.

“He can help us instead if you’d rather,” Bruce offered to keep the peace, “but I thought that the kids might enough just playing some video games and enjoying Alfred’s snacks while we worked.”

“Stop that,” John said.

“Stop what?” Bruce said, blinking guilelessly.”

“Making fuck’n sense.”

The kid in the hood muffled a laugh into the thick fabric. The sound made Bruce smile. It wasn’t so very bad if they could still laugh. It meant that there was still hope.

“Tim is my current foster,” Bruce said, as that was the easiest way to explain things. “I would guess he’s around your ages. And I’m Bruce, a friend of John’s.”

John snorted. “He comes off as a rich playboy, but he’s one of the good ones, if you’ll believe that.”

“Thanks for that rousing endorsement,” Bruce said dryly.

John just grinned back, his smile a little more teeth than normal.

“I’m Danny,” the one in the hood said, still mostly hidden behind the redhead. The voice was scratchy, like it have been overused recently. The fingers that clung to the too large flannel shirt the redhead wore were covered in bandages. “This is my sister Jazz.”

Jazz regarded him with frozen blue eyes. “If you do anything to hurt him, I will find some way to hurt you worse.”

“That’s fair,” Bruce said calmly. “All I want to do is what John asked me to: which is to make you new identities so that you will be safe. Well, I would also hope that you both could relax some and enjoy some of Alfred’s cooking. His cookies especially are something amazing.”

Jazz searched his gaze for a moment longer before almost reluctantly nodding.

“Would you be alright with Tim joining you two?” Bruce asked.

Jazz glanced back at Danny before nodding again.

“Let me show you to the media room then,” Bruce said and started leading the group that way. He kept up idle chatter about some of the games he knew that Tim had been playing just to fill the silence and make everything seem less threatening.

It was still hard to speak of Tim like a son, but easier than it had been when Bruce had been the very broken and irrational man Tim had first come to. If Gotham’s spirit hadn’t thrown a fit, if Constantine hadn’t gotten involved… Bruce hated to think how things might have continued. Bruce hated to think what sort of mentor and guardian he might have been to the boy.

It was hard, but it was better like this.

Bruce opened the door to the media room with a smile. “Make yourself a home. I’ll send Tim down and either he’ll bring snacks with him or Alfred, a demure British man who isn’t a serous as he seems, will bring them in.”

“Right, thanks,” Jazz said and pulled her brother inside with her. She closed the door on them.

Bruce looked at Constantine who rubbed calloused hands over his face.

“Yeah, mate, it’s… it’s rough.”

Bruce reached out and clasped his shoulder in commiseration.

---

AN: This was still stuck in my head so have some more! I'm thinking end game Danny/Jason, because it's me, and Jazz/Steph because Steph deserves to be a disaster bi with her own fierce, magic user redhead.

Obvious canon divergence due to the added ghostliness.

[giannaln4]

For you? Anything.

lando norris x fem reader

summary: Even during the worst week of you life, and no matter how tired he is, Lando would do anything to make you feel better.  (2.6k words)

warnings: fluff, established relationship, language.

a/n: And we are back to our regular schedule! Kinktober is officially over (kinda, more context here) so it's time to post regular fics. So, I wrote this sometime last week before the shit show of yesterday's race so that's why there are no mentions of it, but I do have some planned about that so we'll see when I can work on them. Anyway, this is for me and all the girlies who have been feeling stressed about work, let me know what you think!

↺ back to navigation — send me a request!

What a week it has been for you. You had done nothing but work on a stupid project your boss put you in charge of. It was very short notice, and the due date was creeping up on you faster than you would’ve liked. 

The good thing is Lando had been away for weeks due to his job; not that you didn’t want to see him or that he was a distraction, nothing like that, but you always preferred to be with him instead of working, which isn’t something you would be able to do this time due to the amount of things you had to go over, but with the house all to yourself, you had the chance to get tons of work done.

It was finally the day of the presentation; you were supposed to pitch the finished project to management and honestly, you weren’t 100% confident in the job you had done. Usually, you were never too harsh on yourself, but with so little time to work on it, you knew there were some parts here and there that could’ve used a little more of your attention, but it was either use what you already have or show up with an unfinished project, so that would have to do. It wasn’t terrible; you were sure of that, but these people always found something to complain about.

You were there for only a few minutes before you were dismissed. What a fucking joke, you thought.

You didn’t even get half the presentation done, and the old dudes sitting across from you were already attacking you with questions, questions that didn’t even make sense or barely fit the theme of what you were trying to talk about. 

Your boss was the one to send you out, saying something like “You have another week; we hope you’ll be more prepared next time,” before standing up and leaving the cold conference room, followed by the rest of the men that were surrounding him.

Only minutes after going back to your office you saw him come in, giving you notes on the things he thought you should work on. As the polite girl that you are, you just nodded and wrote down whatever he was saying, apologising for not turning it up on time, but as soon as he left, you couldn’t stop the tears from falling down your face, ruining your make-up in the process. You still had half of your day ahead of you, so you calmed down, washed your face, and went back to work like nothing happened.

At the end of the day, however, that’s a different story. You went back home completely devastated. All those sleepless nights you spent with your nose buried in your laptop felt like a total waste. 

As you drove back home, you tried your best to hold the tears, but it was getting harder by the second, especially with each step you took down the hall that led to the door of your apartment, and when you made it there, you started crying as soon as you closed the door behind you.

You instantly got rid of your uncomfortable clothes and got into one of Lando’s shirts, curling up in your bed and letting all that consuming and irrational feeling of failure sink in. You knew you weren’t a failure; you were well aware of your worth, but you couldn’t help but feel like that after miserably failing the presentation you worked so hard on.

Suddenly, the front door opening pulled you out of your thoughts. You let out a loud sigh as you left the bed. You knew it was Lando coming back from his last race, and any other day you would’ve been happy to see him, running to the door to greet him with a hug like he deserved, but right now, you didn't want him to have to see you in that pathetic state.

You stared at yourself in the mirror for a moment, sighing again when you realised how obvious it was that you had been crying, so you’d just have to avoid eye contact.

“Hi baby,” Lando greeted you with his usual pretty smile as he entered your room.

"Hey,” you replied, immediately turning around and walking towards your desk, sitting facing away from Lando as you opened your laptop.

“Did you sleep okay last night? How did your presentation go?” He walked closer to you and wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug, kissing your temple.

“It was okay.” He stopped when he noticed your heavy mood. 

"You alright, love? You seem down." His brows were slightly furrowed as he tried to make eye contact.

​​"Yeah, fine. I think I’m just gonna work on it a little more; there were some things missing that I need to include," you replied, clearly lacking energy.

“Hey now, let’s not do that." Lando turned the chair over to make you face him. He looked down and noticed your glossy eyes, a worried feeling growing inside him. “Talk to me, please. What’s wrong?”

You just shook her head briefly, a lip-tight smile covering your face. “Everything’s fine.”

“Y/N…” The slip of your name past his lips made you want to cry again. Of course you wanted to be comforted by your boyfriend, but you didn’t like the thought of him having to pick up the pieces anytime you messed up. As a tear rolled down your face, you realised that you didn't have the energy or even the desire to push him away “Oh baby, come here.”

Lando took your hand as he sat on the floor next to you, pulling you onto his lap. Your face was now buried in his black hoodie, the tears wetting it instantly as he brushed a hand softly up and down your back.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you." He would understand if you didn’t want to talk about it but would still like to know what was happening. If there was anything he could do to help, he would gladly do it. “Do you wanna talk?”

“I just-” A sob cut you off, “I- I couldn’t do it, even after everything I did, it wasn’t enough.”

“Is this about your presentation?” He asked, his voice softer than ever, and you simply nodded. “It’s alright-”

“No, Lando, it’s not alright. I worked hard to get it together, to get it ready for days and nights and I still failed, I’m so stupid-”

“Hey, baby, look at me," he interrupted you, pulling back a bit and gently lifting your chin to look into your eyes. “You know that’s not true; you’re so smart, and I've always admired your beautiful mind. You gave it your best, like you said, you worked really hard, and even if you didn’t get the reaction you deserved, you know I’m right here.” You simply nodded at his words as the back of your hand wiped some of the tears. “Why didn’t you wanna tell me?”

"Because I don't want you to be disappointed in me like I am right now." You looked down to your lap as more tears fell from your tired eyes.

“You should know that I could never be disappointed in you, Y/N. You are so intelligent and kind; I’ve never met anyone with such a beautiful soul, so I don't ever want you to feel down about yourself because you are perfect." You felt both of Lando’s large hands caress either side of your face, bringing it up so he could look into your eyes again as he swiped at the tears that had managed to escape from your eyes.

The slight smile that had formed on your tear-stained face told Lando that his words meant something to you, and they did. “You’re only saying that because you’re my boyfriend.”

“No, I’m your boyfriend for all those reasons." You giggled slightly. “And I’m sure that no one would disagree with me.”

“My boss would.”

“What does he know?” That made you laugh again, making Lando smile, a smile so sincere that told you he believed everything he just said.

"Thank you, baby, even though you’re being a little biased." You sniffled as you gently stroked the hand that was still on your cheek, keeping your eyes locked with his “I love you.”

“I love you more,” he smiled, pressing his lips to your forehead. You took a deep breath, feeling a lot calmer than you did five minutes ago as you looked at your laptop briefly. 

“I should probably get back to work, though; I have to basically remake the whole thing and meet with them again next week.”

“What? Right now?”

“Yes, right now. I’m sorry.”

“Are you sure you don’t wanna go to bed? You look pretty tired. We can cuddle, I know we both need it.”

“I would love to,” your gaze fell on your bed momentarily; it looked so comfortable, and it was literally calling your name, “but I really need to get this done, and I have to do it right this time. I don’t wanna be embarrassed again in front of a bunch of old dudes.”

You stood up from his lap and sat back on your desk, focusing on the screen in front of you as you began to analyse what you should take out and what you needed to add. 

Lando just sighed. He knew there was no way he would get you to stop working if you already set your mind to it, but honestly, he thought he would get to spend every second with you once he got back home, so needless to say, he was a little disappointed that wasn’t the case.

He got it though; your job was important for you, and you would never settle for anything unless it was perfect. What made his blood boil was the fact that your boss had the nerve to make you feel like you weren't worth it. 

“Did you eat something already?” He asked you, getting up from the floor and wrapping his arms around you once again.

“Uh- I’m not really hungry.”

“Why don’t I cook something for us? What do you say?”

“It’s okay, baby, you should go to bed.” You tilted your head to look at him and give him a quick kiss. “I know you are tired, the triple header couldn’t have been easy.”

You started collecting your things so you could take over a different part of the apartment. He had been travelling for weeks; it wouldn’t be fair to keep him up just because you needed to get work done.

“Where are you going?”

“To your office, if that’s okay. I really don’t want to bother you.”

“You’re not-”

“Lan, I’ll be okay, I promise. Just go to bed, don’t worry about me.” Taking a few steps closer to him, you gave him a loving hug, “I love you.”

You left the room, holding everything in your hands as Lando just stood in the same spot. There was no way he would go to bed without you, not when you were feeling so down and it was clear you just needed to take a break.

Taking a deep breath, he started to make a plan in his head. He took the quickest shower of his life and got into something comfy, praying there was food, or more specifically, ingredients to cook you something that he wouldn’t mess up and that you would enjoy.

Everything seemed to be on his side when he found everything he needed to make some Alfredo. Everything was pretty much premade, so he knew he wouldn’t ruin it. He happily got to work, setting up a nice dinner as he hummed one of the songs that had been stuck in his head for who knows how long. 

In the office, you were nearly breaking your head as you read the information you had over and over again. You kind of knew what it needed to be since your boss gave you a few specific notes, but then again, you weren’t feeling completely confident in your own ideas. 

You didn’t realise you had been locked away for over an hour, your eyes getting insanely tired as you typed away. A break was needed and well deserved, and you were aware of this, but somehow it didn’t feel like you were making any progress, even though you had been working non-stop and you had already readjusted about half of the project.

A loud sigh escaped your lips as you abruptly closed your laptop, your face falling to your hands as your eyes felt wet yet again. That was it; there was no way you could keep going. You needed to grab a quick snack and head straight to bed. You did have an early morning the next day after all. 

Just as you were gathering all your strength to get up, you heard the door open, making you jump a bit.

“Fuck, you scared the shit out of me.” You laughed as your hand fell on your heart.

“Sorry, love. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he giggled, walking towards you.

“What are you doing still awake? I thought you went to bed.” 

“I couldn’t sleep without you. Are you almost done here?” He looked at your closed laptop, celebrating internally as he assumed you were done working for the night. 

“Yeah, I guess. My brain stopped working, so I thought my future self can worry about the rest tomorrow.”

“Good. Come here.” He extended his hand out to you, which you happily took. “Please stop overworking yourself, you know this isn’t healthy.”

“I know,” you let out a sigh as you accepted his embrace. “I’m seriously thinking about quitting. Who knows, maybe I’ll find something that doesn’t make me feel this stressed all the time.”

His hand was caressing your back softly as he pulled away to look down at you. “You know you can, right? And I really think you should. I make enough to support the both of us and even a family in the future... Baby, you don’t have to keep working there if you don’t want to.”

His words made a smile appear on your face. Not because he was offering to basically support you for the rest of your life, but because he brought having a family with you. “You know I’d never let you do that-”

“But if you do want to quit and just take a break, you can do that too,” he interrupted you. You nodded, seriously considering it, but that was something you would have to think about and have a serious conversation in the future if you ever did decide to do it.

“We’ll see. Right now, I just need something to eat and some sleep. I have to get up early tomorrow.”

“Speaking about dinner, I made something for you.”

He took your hand and guided you to the dining room, a big smile on his face as he proudly showed off the beautiful set-up and the (hopefully) delicious dinner he managed to cook. He looked back at you expectantly, but his happiness quickly turned into a worried look when he noticed tears falling from your eyes again. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” He asked, a hand softly falling on your cheek as he leaned down. 

You were out of words; you truly didn’t know what to say. This is just what you needed, and the fact that he went out of his way to do it for you meant a lot more than he could ever imagine.

“I- Lando, this is-” you cut yourself off when you couldn’t find the right thing to say, so you just jumped in his arms and gave him the tightest hug ever. “Thank you for everything. And I mean everything.”

He let out a sigh of relief, hugging you back as he buried his head on the crook of your neck. “For you, my love, I’d do anything.”

[wonderjanga]

We Thought You Died?!

Billy became a hero in 1959, and he was a hit. He was extremely popular. Captain Marvel was a beloved hero. As for the Squadron of Justice? They were beloved too. They, plus Captain Marvel were the superheroes of that time. They were the flipping blueprint for being a hero, especially Captain Marvel. Then the bubble formed in 62, and they just disappeared off the face of the earth and everyone thought he died.

Then, out of nowhere, they just reappeared.

News channel: *showing a clip of Marvel*

Grandson: *tugs on Grandma’s sleeve* “Grandma, that looks like the hero guy the teacher are making us learn about.”

Grandma: “Amazing. He looks just like the real thing.”

Yeah… People didn’t really believe it at first. Though, to be fair, all the Fawcett heroes have been gone for over sixty years.

Old Man: “It’s disrespectful is it what is. Just because you have the same powers doesn’t mean you can dress up as a dead hero.”

Old Woman: “ I just feel bad for the families. To see someone dress up as your dead husband or wife and then go around pretending to be them? Disgraceful.”

It was then the Justice League got involved. They really couldn’t have these people running around like this. Not only that, but some of the imposters are lethal. Not to mention that there are people in the Justice League who used to know the Fawcett heroes. They were friends with them for Christ’s sake. So that’s why unanimously, they went and confronted these guys.

Supes: *hovering over Fawcett*

Marvel: *helps a cat out of a tree and sees him so he flies up*

Supes: *disapproving look* “I hope you know that if you’re trying to be a her—”

Marvel: “Oh my gods, your suit is awesome!”

Supes: “Thank you…?

Marvel: “Are you a new hero? What’s your name? Are you from Fawcett or are you gonna join us here?”

Supes: *computing, still stuck on the first question*

Meanwhile, Flash and Minuteman were arguing which then somehow spiraled into them getting tacos. Batman and Robin, and Mister Scarlet and Pinky are just fighting. And Bulletgirl and Wonder Woman had a civil conversation that actually got them a lot of information.

After sorting out the entire misunderstanding that they were all imposters, things thankfully got lighter.

Marvel: “Oh my gods, Jay, you’re an old man! What happened to your long luscious locks of beautiful brown hair?”

Barry: *holding back a laugh* “Long luscious locks?”

Jay: “Okay, it was not long, luscious, or beautiful. He just insists on calling it that to embarrass me.”

Marvel: “But it’s true! Or it was true.”

Jay: “No it wasn’t. I had perfectly average hair, thank you very much.”

Yeah, Billy met up with some of his old friends, and they were all ecstatic to see their eight feet tall, golden retriever who just wanted to make the world a better place.

Marvel: “So your not an hero anymore? Then what happened to the JSA?”

Alan Scott (First Green Lantern): “We disbanded…”

Marvel: “WHAT? Why?”

Alan: “Well, we were getting old. We needed to retire.”

Marvel: “Oh yeah.” *sounds a little bummed*

Alan: “I mean, there’s now this thing called the Justice League? Wildcat joined them. So did Mr. Terrific.”

Marvel: “That sounds like a ripoff of you guys!”

He joins anyways. So do the other Fawcett heroes cause they might as well. That’s when things go down hill once more because the JL are forced to remember that a couple Fawcett heroes, mostly Spy Smasher, kill people.

Batman and Spy Smasher: *tied up the Joker after beating up his goons*

Spy Smasher (SS): “Alright, let’s get out of here.” *pulls out a gun and puts it to the Joker’s forehead*

Batman: “What are you doing?”

SS: “I’m ending this…?” *cocks his gun*

Batman: *slaps the gun away* “No, you’re not. He’s going back to Arkham.”

SS: *pulls another gun out* “Yes, I am. Are you seriously telling me you don’t want to permanently end this guy? I’ve heard people call him a terrorist.”

The two then duked it out and the Joker still went back to Arkham anyways. Spy Smasher was so salty, not that literally anyone could blame him.

Marvel: “Wait, so people don’t kill villains anymore?”

SS: *sitting next to him, bandaged*

Wildcat: “Nope. Nowadays, you got to turn them into the police and let them break out again. I know it’s stupid.”

Marvel: “But what about the mass murderers? What about the Black Adams or the Captain Nazis? People who have done messed up stuff?”

Wildcat: “To jail they go. Why do you care anyways? It’s not like you killed any of your villains.”

Marvel: “Well, I didn’t, but I gotta ask because Smasher is trying so hard not to physically claw off his own skin at the thought of these guys just breaking back out.”

Safe to say, getting used to the modern world, took some getting used to for everyone. As for Billy, he chills with the gang at the old folks home, reminiscing about times as if he’s aged with them.

Also, like, genuinely, their disappearance would show up in top ten unsolved mysteries vids because genuinely, they just disappeared with no trace.

Billy also doesn’t know what to think of the many memorials he finds of himself and the other Fawcett heroes around the country.

[cwicseolfor]

“I don’t notice, because I won’t” is a recognition of capacity in that context, not willingness.

Literally everything you “shouldn’t have to be told” was likely in fact told to you at an age young enough you don’t remember it.

But the post isn’t about chores. I’ll talk about chores for a bit here though:

In every romantic relationship I’ve been in (being a het woman, this means men) I am the clean one by far and the tidy one only sometimes, and even then by half an inch.

In several roommate situations I’ve been all over the board. The tidy one, the walking tornado. The clean one, the careless one (not reliably mapped to the same venn diagram of people!)

I say this to lay out that I’m very familiar with unequal division of housekeeping. I’m a straight woman. None of the men I’ve dated realized sinks and toilets and mirrors don’t just magically stay shiny and floors stay un-hairy without being taught so - by me. (But none of us who didn’t have to be reparented by our partners just came out of the womb knowing, either - we just had the lesson laid out earlier in life by someone else!)

“Noticing” is predicated on the idea that there exists a known and shared standard to adhere to and those standards are not in fact universal. Especially that first example given - “I left my wallet on the table to see if you would notice” - there are people to whom this is the obvious place to leave a wallet. There are people for whom doing such a thing is anarchy, everything needs to be in a dedicated container at all times. And both of those people likely have reasons unrelated to the division of chores! It took active effort for me to even comprehend this explicit example when I first read it - my first thought was worrying they left it on the table at a restaurant or similar, the implicit question being not “did you see me being Untidy?” but “are you looking out for me?”

The problem the OP is describing is ask culture vs. guess culture, in which ask culture accommodates a wider variety of social standards and expectations (“mud people” and “dirt people”) and guess culture demands people have internalized, or have the innate social skill to intuit (even with deliberate and concentrated effort), the (highly cultural and local and arbitrary) standard to which they are expected to conform. When you have a high degree of heterogeneity in society - diversity, whether cultural or neurotype - you MUST ENGAGE A DEGREE OF ASK CULTURE to get results without social disharmony.

So again, it’s not about (just) chores, which are merely a really easy example to pull in addressing this issue because they are tangible and visible (…at least to some people.) But many of the examples OP gave are not household duties, they are relational ones centered around preferences and needs.

Only 1 and 3 are directly about chores.

2. “I’d like you to ask me how I’m doing more often.” 4. “I feel like the onus is on me to initiate X, and it’s wearing me down. Could you try making the first move more? Like 3-4 times a week?” 5. “I’m feeling upset right now and I’d like to spend some more time with you.” These strike me as pretty explicitly and solely relational, and though I suppose it’s conceivable that one could “make the first move” on cooking dinner, it’s become something of a fixed expression about sex. These are about what A and B find personally meaningful as modes of emotional relation.

7. “I’m feeling neglected, could you do X?” could mean “perform a housekeeping labor for me” but just as easily “could you give me a hug/ put down your book and go for a walk with me/ tell me what is going on at work or school that seems to be troubling you/ look me in the eyes more often.” 9. “I feel like I’m the only one putting effort into X” might be the kid’s tutoring or the hedgeclipping, but it could just as easily be “household water usage,” or “talking about our hopes and dreams instead of day to day matters or entertainment.” Ditto for 6, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, and quite possibly 14. They’re about differential values and priorities and might not be anything alike, or even register as values to different people.

The idea that “some things shouldn’t have to be told” cannot exist without a shared cultural context and agreement not only on values but underlying circumstances, and resultant beliefs and knowledge about the world. How long can an infant be in a stroller unattended outside a cafe? Is that rag hanging in the kitchen for drying clean hands, or wiping up the floor? How long are eggs safe to eat if left out at room temperature?

This matters a great deal because it is entirely possible for reasonable, kind, considerate people with totally normal interpersonal people-reading skills to be putting in conscious effort toward the others’ comfort and still have zero idea whatsoever that others’ orthogonal priorities even exist. And no amount of intention makes everyone else’s motives accurately legible to an observer with a different cultural or personal context.

(Children in parts of Europe are routinely left to sleep outdoors unattended in all weather, possibly a holdover from the days when all indoor heat came from smoky combustion - unlike adults, babies don’t need their hands free for labor and can be warmly swaddled - so a few hours while the parents have lunch is nothing, whereas in the US and many other places child protective services would be called and most likely immediately separate the child from a perceived dangerously negligent family. Washing cleaning rags every single time they’re used would be onerous where mechanical laundry is not available in the home, so the dirtiest cleaning rags in some cultures are hung up between uses at eye height - to keep them out of reach of children. Eggs in the US are washed of their protective pellicle and thus must be refrigerated for storage within hours, unlike the week or so expected shelf life at room temperature elsewhere.)

Obvious cultural variations are easy. If I have enough context to know there’s such a thing as unlucky gifts, I can look up information and learn that I should not pool my team to give my Chinese boss a watch for their retirement. But I would more likely have to be told, however, that it would be intensely rude to make direct and ongoing eye contact with my Iranian roomate’s visiting father if he is addressing me - because my culture says that eye contact shows deferential respect, and until I have been in another culture with a significantly different expectation, I have no way of intuiting that it’s not a human universal standard before fucking it up. It’s arbitrary.

A lot of other cultural variations are more subtle. I was stunned to learn that it isn’t bog-standard basically everywhere to feed children visiting your home during mealtime (and without even asking the parents first.) I’m from the South. Apparently there are parts of the States where this would be considered rude because it might spoil the kid’s dinner when they get home. Traveling elsewhere in the country as a tween, occupying the role of quasi-babysitter as the oldest child at a gathering, a woman called us to the kitchen for popsicles of choice but was unable to hide her surprise when I too, going last, specified the kind I wanted - mistakenly assuming she had meant to include me - and I immediately felt terrible for having asked for hospitality when I thought I was merely receiving it.

Likewise I picked up the habit of wearing no shoes in the house from living in urban, Chinese culture for a while - but in more rurally-influenced local US Southern culture this is not something I’d expect others to do unless I discussed it with them (even though it has very practical effects on the amount of indoor cleaning I end up doing.) To them, me taking my shoes off would be a choice about comfort, not sanitation, especially if I had been wearing heels. They’d notice my doing it, but the why is invisible - and they’d not necessarily infer they should do likewise.

Neurotypes and psychology are a whole other thing and really do manifest most often in chores on the less extreme spectrum of difference - I mentioned above I’m often the clean one. Reusing an unwashed dish hours later gives me anxiety - if there was a fly in the house, it could have been waltzing over that cup rim immediately after a visit to the kitchen sink drain, ew ew ew ew ew. But to other people that’s normal and my habit of putting their “dirty” dishes in the washer when I saw them unused was making them nuts - I’d moved their cup, again! And I only thought I was helping! They went on in ambiguously passive-aggressive annoyance for months before finally mentioning - on seeing me do it in front of them, and that it wasn’t some nefarious cup-theft side-hustle - that they’d meant to leave the cup on the stove for reuse, which is to say that they had a different expectation than I do.

Conversely I’ve also had friends horrified I don’t do the dishes immediately after a meal no matter what. Until I negotiated this - out loud, with words - with one roommate they essentially assumed I was leaving it in the sink for them to do, when my preference is to do it in the morning after when a party runs late.

But it’s also come up that one person’s “hanging out” in parallel play is another person’s idea of getting the silent treatment. Dedicated attention and concerned questions, or scrutiny and interrogation? Romantic planned evening or overly-regimented itinerary? Blessedly open vacation schedule or secret demand to be entertained? Spontaneous suggestion or terrifying change of plans? These don’t overlap in the ways you might imagine, either.

The ways that people can inhabit the same space or interact with each other are as infinitely variable as the people. Assuming that everyone else is coming from the same context, with the same needs, expecting you to overfunction to fill them without bringing it up to check is unfair.

Relationships have to be negotiated and will not always map to anything you’ve experienced before. Respect takes a thousand different forms, because needs do. Ask. If things aren’t addressed after asking, then you have a right to be aggrieved, but not on point of projecting specifics and assuming motives. You can choose that you don’t want to associate with someone who doesn’t share your expected common ground, but that doesn’t make them lazy, selfish, or invalid.

I hate that thing some people do where it's like. "I left my wallet on the table to see if you'd say anything" or "I wanted to see if you'd wash the car if I stopped doing it"

Cause like

I dont know about anyone else

But I am perpetually hovering three inches above the strong subconscious belief that everyone knows what they're doing at all times except me, so if you change your normal patterns and I notice, then I will assume it is an intentional choice with a thought-out plan behind it and I will avoid interfering

And if I don't notice, because I won't, because why would I, because not much bothers me and if you don't say anything to indicate you are bothered then how would I KNOW

[lovemomhatepolice]

drew starkey nswf alphabet (part 2)

navigation taglist requests

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) There is no chance that it will touch you after alcohol. That is, when only you are after alcohol. Even though you are in a relationship and even though you trust each other implicitly, THERE IS NO SUCH OPTION. Even if you look at him with your pleading eyes, even dripping, no. Well, unless you are both slightly tipsy and then you land in each other's arms, even more willingly than usual (which is all too strange)

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) Heck, you guys are even fighting over it. There's no way you're going to get around it without plowing both ways. Drew loves, LOVES to lie between your thighs - oh and you love how he is there, because your man is very talented. But you also take his breath away as you climb into his lap and caress him with your mouth. Let's hope it never ends, right?

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) Let's be honest - Drew is a man of a million talents. You want him to fuck you hard, with your face pressed into a pillow, begging for it to stop, even though you don't really want it to - he will. If you're in a romantic mood and want to seal it with sex, he'll be sensual and calm. Whatever you desire

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) If you do not have the opportunity to have sex longer, quickies also are ok. But as I mentioned, Drew doesn't like to skip the “elements” of your intercourse, so quickies are not to his liking. But sometimes you both want it, and what can you do?

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) This man is turning 31!!! (Funnily enough - he turns it tomorrow) We all seem to know very well how well he takes care of his sister-in-law. So it's no wonder he doesn't mind if you don't use protection or are not on the pill. Oh, he would love to have children with you, even if you are quite a bit younger. If you were ready, he could fuck you all night long just to put that baby inside you

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) It depends on how aroused he is. Usually you can easily do two-three rounds if you are not tired. Drew doesn't like to finish after one round, who would he be if he didn't fondle his woman to her limits?

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) He has. Not a lot, but I think she keeps a vibrator at her house to sometimes support her actions and improve your sex. He's not some big fan, but he likes to experiment

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) He doesn't do it all that often - in fact, mostly when you're heavily aroused against him, and he (due to the fact that he's quite elderly) takes a little advantage of it. He prolongs with doing you good with his mouth, moves slowly inside you, oh, but how he returns the favor afterwards

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) Oh, he is loud! Drew doesn't suppress his moans, loud breaths or saying how wonderful you are to him, how beautiful your body is and how much he loves you. He is sonorous and I think that is his advantage. Imagine that damn sexy voice of his worshiping you...

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) Maybe it's because he's an actor - and such a perversion came out of his work, or maybe he just saw such a thing once in a porn. Drew had the thought, and more than once, of having sex with you as one of his film characters. I don't know, he wanted to get into Rafe's or Trevor's shoes and fuck you like they could (meaning he could)

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) Drew has a lot to show off. He's all big, so it's also no surprise that his boxers are constantly bulging. But I guess that doesn't bother anyone, right? Especially in your bed, as you finally feel as full as you should

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) There are times when he can behave himself and tries not to pay so much attention to how sexy his girlfriend is, but this is rare. Even at the family home, he tries to take you aside, at least for a moment to go to the restroom to have a hot kissing session, and then go back to the family as if nothing ever happened. Oh, he can't take his hands off you and it takes so little for him to be at your every beck and call

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) You talk to each other for a long time before you fall asleep, but for Drew, first of all, it is important that you fall asleep first, only then will he feel properly to fall asleep - with the knowledge that his whole world is safe in his arms

A/N: part one if anyone missed it!! i will be very pleased if you leave something behind - orders are open, and I am very close to 600 followers! if you just like my work - take a look at the masterlist, give a heart, pass, and maybe even follow! it really means a lot to me and helps me grow by reaching more people :) please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)

[vivwritesfics]

The Devil Dances With A Smile

Chapter Two

He can't kill you. He can't bring himself to lay a hand on you. So, he falls for you instead (its a shame his employer really wants you dead)

Hitman!Max x reader

Chapter One

The teachers lounge was rarely a good place to nap. Somebody was always yapping about something. On any day but today, that would have been Max. Yapping at Charles, who would yap back. 

Today, though, he was far too tired to yap. He laid his head down on the table, his energy drink forgotten in front of him. The teachers lounge was the only place he could enjoy his much needed energy drinks, especially if he didn't want the kids to see. 

"You look like shit," Charles muttered as he joined him, sipping his coffee. 

Max looked up only to glare. He quickly laid his head back onto the table and shut his eyes. 

"Jim and Sass keep you up again?" 

Oh, that was right. Back when he and Charles first started their jobs, Jimmy and Sassy were his excuse for everything. It was better that way, though. If Charles knew what he was really doing, he'd never look at him the same way. 

"Just let me sleep, Charlie," Max mumbled through a yawn. 

Leaning back, Charles sipped his coffee, but he said nothing more. He kept his eye fixed on Max, just watching him. When the bell went, he woke Max up. Snapped his fingers in front of his face to make him just a little more alert and sent him in the direction of his classroom. 

Mac moved through the day like a zombie. He barely got through it, his only aid being the red bull he kept hidden in his thermos. 

The thing about Max was that he hated coffee. Last night had been a charade; he hid every grimace behind what he hoped was a charming smile. When you topped him up for a second cup, he guessed that it worked. 

Still, he wouldn't be ordering another from you. But he would be going back. Research, he told himself. To find out why somebody would want you killed. Were you really that bad a person? So bad that somebody was willing to pay a lot of money to see you dead at his hands? He just couldn't see it. 

The school day came and went as it always did. Max stayed behind and tidied his classrooms. Put the text books back on the shelves and picked up paper left behind by the students. 

A drawing. He knew immediately which student had done it. A talented artist who had spent the lesson drawing him and Mr Leclerc from history locking lips. 

Chuckling to himself, Max shoved the drawing into his drawer. He grabbed his bag, the Red Bull disguised in his coffee thermos, and headed out. 

Max had never dreaded going to his second job before, not since his first day. But tonight? Tonight was different. 

For the first time ever, he hadn't completed the job. 

He moved slowly as he got himself showered and changed, making dinner for himself and feeding the cats. Jimmy and Sassy fussed around his legs, and Max took his time to give them attention, putting off the inevitable. 

Christian was gonna have his ass. 

Tying his shoelaces took longer than normal, but that was because he was stopping every few seconds to give his cats kisses. “I love you both,” he assured them, running his hand along Jimmy's back and up his tail. “If daddy doesn't make it home, uncle Charles is gonna take care of you, okay?” 

He swallowed the lump in his throat and headed out the door. 

Never before had Max wished for traffic. Never before had he wished for his commute to his second job to take longer than the usual twenty minutes. 

But it felt all too soon that he pulled into his parking space. He sat there for several minutes, making sure he had everything that he needed. Keys, wallet, phone. All already in his pocket. Convenient. 

He forced his brain to think up the worst that Christian could say and do as he walked towards his office. Shoot him dead was the worst he could do, tell him he's fired was the worst he could say. 

Max sucked in a breath. He pushed down the handle and opened the door, letting himself into the office. If he was a weaker man, his legs would have been buckling as he approached the desk. 

"Your target is still alive."

Max nodded as he sucked in a breath. "I know," he said. "But she's tricky," he finished. 

Christian blinked at him. "She's a waitress," he replied. "Can't you shoot her dead when she's behind the counter?" 

A sigh left his lips. "Just trust me, Christian, it's not that simple. She's got colleagues and customers, people  that care about her. I can't just kill her there; I've got to gain her trust first." 

Christian levelled him with a look. Unimpressed, but accepting. "Fine. Just get it done," he said and sent Max on his way. 

He couldn't keep putting it off, he thought as he drove towards the café. He immediately spotted you, clearing the tables by the window. He watched you pause and look out across the lamp lit street. 

Climbing out of the car, Max started towards the café. His mouth was dry as the bell above the door rang, signalling his arrival. 

You looked up as the bell rang, a smile splitting across your face. "Well hey, stranger," you said, your grin widening. Any more and your face would have hurt. 

"Nice to see you again," Max said as he slipped into the nearest seat. 

You leaned against the table. It wasn't like you were trying to flirt, trying so hard to appeal to him. But it was working. Your pretty eyes, your pretty smile. He could have stayed here all day staring at you. 

You took his order, just a coffee. But you threw in a pastry for him, a treat, on the house. 

For the first hour, Max sat there. As much as he wanted to talk to you, you were too busy working him to give him the attention that he wanted. But you met his eye, gave him a warm smile as you cleaned the rest  of the cafe. 

Finally, you leaned against the table once again, your palm flat as you angled your body towards him. "So, what? Are you stalking me or something?" 

For a moment, Max panicked. But then you laughed and his entire body relaxed. "It's not every night you meet a pretty girl in a dingy café," he replied and your cheeks heated up. The little 'no offense' he added at the end was so endearing, you couldn't help but slip into the seat. 

Max was easy to talk to, but you knew that from the day before. He showed you pictures of his cats, telling you all about them until you got called into the kitchen to run food. 

As soon as table 43 had their food, you returned to Max's table. "I still don't get what you're doing here," you said to him, not bothering to sit down this time. You only had five minutes left on the clock. "You're a teacher, a local one. You don't get the train anywhere, so why are you here?" 

His face was bright red and he pushed his hair back, swallowing. "The first time, I was just looking for something to drink. I came in today because I wanted to see you," he confessed, scratching at the back of his neck. 

You checked your watch. "Let me clock out, and then you can walk me to the bus stop again." 

Before you could walk away, before you could get changed and walk back towards him, Max grabbed your arm. Your immediate instincts had you quickly pulling out of his grip and taking two steps back. 

Max dropped his hand. He didn’t say anything, didn’t call out your behaviour. Instead, he fished his car keys from his jacket pocket. “Or I could drive you home, if you like.”

He didn’t drive you home that night. But he did walk you to the bus stop again. You stood closer to him than you would to any of your other customers. “I want to take you out at some point,” he said, staring down at you. The bus was pulling up, he only had a few seconds. “On a date.”

You didn’t gasp, you weren’t surprised. But your cheeks still heated up. “Tomorrow,” you said and smoothed down his jacket. “We’ll arrange it tomorrow.”

Max watched as you stepped onto the bus and paid for your ticket. He watched as you sat somewhere near the back. 

As soon as the bus pulled away, Max headed back towards the car. His phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out, swiping his thumb across the screen to answer it. “Soon, Christian,” he said, before Christian had the chance to say anything to him. “She’ll be dead soon.” He swallowed the lump in his throat as he climbed into the car. 

Christian paused for a moment. An anxiety inducing moment. ‘Lando is gonna take on the job’, that was what he was ready for him to say. “Our employer wants her dead within the next two weeks. Get on with it.”

The call ended and Max dropped his phone onto the centre console. A sigh left his lips and he began to drive, heading in the direction of the bus. There weren’t many occasions that called for Max to tail a bus, and it wasn’t all that easy. Every time the bus stopped at a stop, he parked where he could until the bus moved on. 

But then you got off of the bus and began your walk. As you got off of the bus, Max parked his car and climbed out. He followed you, ducking behind bins and bushes. You didn’t turn around, had no idea you were being followed. 

You weren’t expecting any sort of danger. Maybe it made you naive. You had no idea of the danger you were in. Max kept following you until you made it to your apartment complex. The sun was rising, the streets no longer dark. 

You were in so much danger, so much fucking danger. Max swallowed the lump in his throat. He couldn’t let anything happen to you, he knew that much.

a/n: part two! it actually feels so good to be working on a series again. for those that don't know, i'm currently working on a lestappen werewolf series (that i hope to have posted in the next week) so keep an eye out for that!

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[8-evil-annoying-catboys]

i never mentioned bisexuals calling all their attraction straight because i’ve never encountered that, although if i had to guess why anyone would do that, it would be that they’re trans/genderqueer/multigender or they just feel most aligned with describing their attraction that way. it’s not my place to judge. as far as those of us who call all of our attraction gay, for myself being multigender is a part of it, but for a lot of bisexuals who aren’t multigender as well as myself and certainly other multigender bisexuals, there’s simply an inherent queerness to our attraction to the “opposite” gender. this is especially true for bi4bi and t4t couples. calling this attraction gay is accurate for us, because of gender weirdness, or because there’s simply an inherent difference in the way in which bisexuals love people that is distinct from how straight people love people. or there’s another reason! everyone has their own truth and reasoning for why they use certain language that they feel comfortable with, and that’s beautiful. language is ever-changing in general, and in the wider queer community in general, labels aren’t always that cut and dry. it’s beautiful when people take labels and identifiers and make them their own.

this wasn’t really the point of my post, but i hope that my explanation makes things clearer for you, even if you may still not fully understand. it’s more important to support each other and accept each other than to fully understand each detail of each other’s identity or the reasoning behind it, although i also totally get the desire to understand :3

btw just like how bisexuals who classify all their attraction as gay and bisexuals who classify their attraction as gay and as straight respectively and bisexuals who classify all their attraction as bisexual and never gay OR straight are all equally valid, the same is true with multigender people. if a multigender person considers all their genders as trans, or some trans and some cis, or all neither trans or cis, you must respect that.

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: another instalment of the tik tok mat series! featuring liana! this was another suggestion from an anon and i just love writing these three and their dynamic so this was fun - i hope you guys enjoy 😊

word count: 3.2k

tw: nothing but good clean fun

summary: during a visit, you and liana convince mat to join you in another tik tok video, with a twist

“What are you two plotting?” Mat’s sudden appearance in the kitchen startles you and you jump a little. Next to you, Liana yelps and smacks her knee against the cabinet.

“Ow, fuck,” she mutters, reaching down to rub at the spot that’ll definitely be bruised tomorrow. She scowls at Mat, which he ignores.

“Jesus,” you sigh, closing your eyes briefly while your heartbeat gets back to normal. “We’re not plotting.” Your tone is slightly petulant.

Mat comes up behind you and slots himself at your back, arms on either side of you caging your body against the kitchen island. He kisses the back of your neck and play humps your ass.

Liana fake gags, sticking her index finger in her mouth. “You’re disgusting. And what she said. Plotting makes it sound so nefarious, we’re just planning something,” she kicks at Mat’s socked foot with her own and he kicks back.

“Plotting, planning. Same difference when it comes to you two,” Mat retorts, keeping his chest pressed to your back when he leans in to grab a tortilla chip out of the open bag on the counter and swipe it through the bowl of guac in front of you. He chomps noisily on the chip, right in your ear, and you reach back to swat at his stomach. Mat takes a small step back so he’s not as loud in your ear.

“Don’t get guac on me,” you complain a little, trying to wiggle out of Mat’s embrace. All it serves to do is get your ass pressed against his crotch. Mat laughs and wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you back against him.

He presses a kiss behind your ear and mutters quietly, “say the word and I’ll kick Li out right now.”

Your laugh is overshowdowed by Liana’s outraged cry of, “I can hear you, dumbass! I’m standing right next to you!”

“In the kitchen that I own,” Mat shoots back, still hugging you.

Before they start bickering even more and derail yours and Liana’s plans, you hold up your hands and shoot a wide-eye, raised eyebrows look at your boyfriend’s sister. “How about we don’t turn a lovely visit into a Barzal brawl?” You say, tone placating.

Liana immediately relaxes, her lips tipping up in a half-smile. Mat’s arm loosens around your shoulders and you lean easily against his chest.

“Yeah, okay,” they both mutter at the same time and you can’t help but laugh at the identical tone and inflection.

Mat’s hips work lazily against your ass and you know it’s a subconscious movement, a tic that he can’t help when he’s pressed close to you. It used to be insanely distracting, but you’re so used to it by now, you barely even notice anymore.

“Why don’t you join us for a Tik Tok?” You ask Mat, leaning your head back against his shoulder to look up at him. “Liana and I have like a whole bunch of videos we want to make while she’s here.”

It’s a partially true statement. You do have a couple of videos that would be fun to make with her while she’s visiting for a long weekend, but conning Mat into a video is the main plan.

“Your videos always do the best when I join,” Mat brags in an overly smug tone. He kisses your forehead and you know he’s teasing. But again, another partially true statement. You had a solid social media following, but once you started dating Mat, your follower count exploded and the videos that he pops up in are the ones that get shared the most. Especially on Twitter and the random fan cams you stumble on while you scroll.

Liana scoffs. “God, the ego on you is ridiculous,” she tosses a grape at Mat’s head. He catches it and pops it into his mouth, grinning.

“I could boost your following too, Li,” he offers. “I know you get a bump when I appear. It’s my natural charm and charisma.”

Both you and Liana burst out laughing, drowning out Mat’s offended protests. He complains that you’re being mean to him and you turn in his arms to press a kiss against the corner of his mouth, tasting salt from the tortilla chip and cilantro from the guac. “Shush,” you tease, “we’re keeping you humble.”

He scowls at you, nose wrinkling, and you press your lips together to smother a smile because he’s adorable when he’s annoyed.

“If you’re mean to me, I’m leaving the video,” he warns finally. You know he doesn’t mean it, Mat loves being part of yours and Liana’s business too much.

“If you two are done playing grab ass,” Liana interrupts, sure enough, Mat’s hands are gripping your ass cheeks like his life depends on it. “Can we get filming before we have to get changed for dinner?”

You slip away from Mat with a giggle and grab your coffee mug off the counter, your phone in your other hand. Mat grabs the Tostitos and the guac and follows you both to the couch. He plops down, spreading his knees wide, in the middle of the couch with his snack resting on his thigh.

“So what did I actually agree to do?” He asks while you and Liana each take a seat on the floor in front of the couch. You prop your phone up against a pair of coffee table books and the plastic case for NHL 24.

Liana starts to explain, “basically, we’re giving you questions and you have to pick which of us it applies to. Like, you know stuff out of a high school yearbook or whatever.”

“It’ll make sense when we start,” you pipe up, opening Tik Tok. You make Mat shift a few inches to the right so all three of you are in the frame and ask, “ready?”

The siblings nod and Mat digs into the chip bag, just as you’re starting to speak. Liana rolls her eyes at him.

“Hey guys,” you lean in towards the camera, “we’ve got a house guest for a long weekend, I think you’re familiar with her?”

Liana waves at the camera, smiling. “Hey! We figured since this is the first time I’ve been in the same country as big bro since the summer, we should mark the occasion with a Tik Tok.”

“I’m here under duress,” Mat snarks, giving the camera a big, cheesy grin. “And the snacks,” he lifts the bowl of guac. “A Squeaks specialty.”

“Perfect segue to the game,” Liana chirps, pulling out her phone and tapping open the Notes app. “We’re going to ask Mat questions and he has to pick which one of us it applies to. So, first we’ll go with who’s the better cook?”

Mat scrunches his face up in thought for a few seconds before wiggling his hand back and forth in the air. “Toss up,” he says. “Depending on what food it is.”

“Nope, not a valid answer,” Liana shakes her head. “Remember who cooks for you all the time at home.”

“I mean, I cook for him all the time down here,” you pipe up, feigning nonchalance.

Mat jabs his index finger at you, “exactly. Plus, no offense, Li, but your recipes are pretty basic. Squeaks likes to experiment.” He waggles his eyebrows and you reach back to pinch his ankle. He yelps and kicks lightly at your thigh with his socked foot. “Rude.”

“Cooperate, Mat!” You sigh.

“Next question,” Liana taps again at her phone, “who’s funnier?”

Mat hovers his hand over your head and you smile. “Squeaks, for sure,” he nods decisively.

Liana rolls her eyes. “Sarcasm isn’t actually being funny, just so you know,” she comments idly.

“If it makes me laugh, then yeah it is,” Mat retorts, crunching into a chip to punctuate his sentence. He pokes at your thigh with his foot again, affectionate this time, and you wrap a hand around his ankle.

You reach out and, out of Mat’s view, tap on Liana’s thigh, subtly widening your eyes at her. She grins back and tips her chin in a slight nod.

“How about, who’s the better dancer?” You ask, leaning over to read off of Liana’s phone.

Mat shifts his hand to hold it over Liana’s head with a laugh. “I love you, baby, but you’ve got all the rhythm of a middle aged dad,” he teases. “Li clears this one.”

You wrinkle your nose and cut your eyes to Liana, murmuring, “I don’t know. Shaking your ass isn’t really dancing, is it?”

“At least I can shake my ass on beat,” Liana shoots back quickly.

On the screen, you can see Mat frown before sticking a guac covered chip into his mouth. His eyes flicker between you and Liana and you can see him thinking before deciding not to say anything. You roll your lips together to avoid laughing. You and Liana are definitely going to have to take it up a notch.

“Best style?” Liana asks and continues before Mat can answer, “oh, obviously me. No question.”

Mat looks down at her, eyebrows drawing together over his nose. “Since when? You’re always in comfy clothes, sweats, that shit.” He gestures down at Liana who’s wearing a cream lounge pants and sweater set that more or less matches your own.

“Maybe when I’m hanging out with you in the house,” Liana hits his other leg. “But my street style is way better, she dresses so Long Island.”

“Long Island fashion is so much better than anything to come out of Canada,” you retort with an eye roll. “Mat clearly made the right choice.”

“And I’m sure that has nothing to do with the fact that he like when you dress all skimpy and slutty,” she shoots you an insincere smile and the couch shifts when Mat sits up straight.

“Hey, whoa, Liana that’s not cool,” Mat snaps, shaking his head. “What’s going on with you?”

You turn your head away from Mat to hide the smile that threatens at your lips. Liana waves a hand at her brother, “oh my god, nothing. It’s true though, you like the way she dresses.”

“Yeah, but she’s not a slut,” Mat’s getting annoyed and it’s sweet, how quick he is to defend you.

“Oh, it’s fine,” you draw attention back to you. “Let’s do another. Who’s smarter?”

Mat squints at you and leans back into the couch, crunching the bag of chips behind his back. “Oh shit,” he mutters, yanking it out and getting crumbs everywhere. You exhale a laugh through your nose - vacuuming before going out for dinner isn’t entirely unusual with Mat’s eating on the couch habits.

“Um, both of you?” He replies to the question. “Like Li is street smart, but you’re book smart. Y’know?”

“Oh my god,” Liana shakes her head. “Are you calling me stupid? You think she’s smarter than me?” She jabs her thumb at you and you frown at Mat.

“Seriously? Like you think I’m not street smart? You could drop me anywhere and I’d find my way home,” you protest, pretending to get heated.

“Please, she’s not even book smart either,” Liana says. “You know she thinks blood is just floating around in the body!”

You burst out a little laugh. That one is actually true, you’d had a “blonde moment” and said something to Liana to the effect of it being weird that blood and organs are just floating around inside your body. She’d stared at you for a solid five minutes with her mouth open at your stupidity, while you immediately realized your mistake and tried to backtrack that you knew veins and arteries exist.

Mat raises his eyebrows at you and his mouth drops a little. “Wait, seriously?” He asks. “You really think that?”

“No!” You yelp, waving your hands in the air. “Like for a second, but I’m not that dumb.”

Liana scoffs under her breath and you cut your gaze at her to see her hand come up and cover her mouth, hiding a wide smile.

“Maybe I should take it back,” Mat laughs, poking at your side with his foot. “Yeah, I’m changing my answer, Liana’s smarter.”

“Rude,” you laugh, unable to actually be offended by Mat’s switch-up. If he had said something as stupid, you would’ve made fun of him until the end of time.

Liana asks the next question - “Who’s more popular on Tik Tok?” - and Mat waffles until he eventually decides that the answer is “whoever features me the most.”

“Well, there’s a reason you’re never on mine,” Liana comments idly. “I don’t need the exposure.”

Mat squints at her, leaning forward so he’s almost bent in half. “Literally what is going on with you?” He flicks the back of her head and she swats at him. “You’re being so weird.”

“I’m not being weird, you’re being weird,” Liana shoots back.

“I never heard you talk to her like that,” Mat grumbles, jerking his thumb in your direction. “What bug crawled up your ass?”

“No bug,” Liana shrugs. “Just calling them like I see them.”

You lean against the couch and watch Mat’s face twist into a skeptical frown. He kicks the side of Liana’s thigh and says firmly, “be nicer. Whatever’s happening here needs to cool off.”

He’s being fairly calm, so maybe the trick won’t actually work. You tap on Mat’s calf, momentarily distracted by the thick cords of muscle, and say, “one more, and then I think we need to start getting ready.”

Mat reaches down and scratches the tips of his fingers against your scalp, making you lean into his touch like a cat, a slow smile taking over your face. With your cheek pressed against his knee, you look over at Liana, who’s rolling her eyes even as she has a faint smile on her face at your antics.

“Okay,” she grins, “if we were all in a sinking ship and you could only save yourself and one of us, who would it be?”

Without hesitating, Mat immediately says, “Squeaks.” There’s a healthy amount of “duh” in his tone and you can’t help but smile, warmed down to your core at Mat’s quick response.

Until Liana does her job and riles him up.

“Seriously?” She scoffs a laugh. “No hesitation, you’d pick some girl you haven’t even known a year over your own sister? Wow.”

You bite at your lower lip to hide a smile and Mat shoots forward again, jostling you.

“Liana, jesus fuck. What is wrong with you?” He snaps. “You’re being a fucking bitch. You know she’s not ‘some girl’ and you need to apologize. Now.”

He’s scowling at her, legs tensed. You don’t usually see Mat angry off the ice, but now he’s angry on your behalf and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t hot. Absolutely worth the prank to get him worked up like this.

Liana giggles and shakes her head. “Oooh, you should see your face,” she giggles again.

“I’m dead serious, Liana,” Mat shakes his head. “You’re not fucking funny and I’m not going to sit her and let you be rude.”

You start giggling now and reach out for Mat’s hand. “Hey, babe, Mat. Seriously, it’s okay,” you say and Mat squints at you, frowning.

“No, it’s not fucking okay. I thought you two got along. I thought you were friends and now Liana’s over here being rude as hell,” he shakes his head. “I’m not going to let you stay here and be nasty, Li.”

Liana catches your eye and the laughter is contagious. Soon enough, the two of you are cracking up, gasping for air. Mat’s confused, you can tell, because he’s spluttering and shaking both of your shoulders with his hands.

“What the actual fuck is going on?” He mutters, reaching down and dragging you up onto his lap. You laugh and protest, wiggling to sit on the couch with your legs draped over his thighs.

“It’s a Tik Tok trend,” you explain, waving at your phone with one hand and wrapping the other around the back of Mat’s neck. Liana leans forward and stops the video on your phone. It was getting too long anyway and no one needs to see you explain the whole thing to Mat.

Liana pipes up, “I can’t believe you’d really think I hate her. I like her more than I like you.”

Mat’s eyebrows scrunch together and you can see the wheels turning in his brain. It clicks all of a sudden and Mat’s mouth falls open, outraged shock written all over his features. “I knew it!” He yelps, grabbing a throw pillow and whacking Liana on the shoulder. She falls over, laughter gasping out of her. Mat smacks her with the pillow again and Liana kicks out at him, glancing the coffee table and yelping in pain.

“I knew you two were plotting!” He laughs, wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you pinned to his side. Your stomach hurts from laughing and trying to wriggle away. “Fucking menaces, I’m not saving either one of you. You can both drown.”

“No!” Your laugh mixes with Liana’s and Mat’s, the three of you landing in a pile on the floor as Mat continues to whack at both of you with the pillow. Liana kicks at Mat’s shin, fighting him when he rubs his knuckles on the top of her head in a noogie.

“Stop, stop, mercy!” Liana gasps, wheezing. Mat rolls his eyes, but stops, breathing hard when he sits up, keeping you locked securely on his lap. You press your forehead against his shoulder, panting. Mat’s hands are warm on your back and then they slide down, his palm smacking against your ass in a spank.

You yelp and jump in his arms, nearly cracking the side of his jaw with your head. “What was that for?” You grumble, reaching back to rub at the sore spot.

Mat grins wickedly at you. “For being a brat,” he replies simply. He points at Liana, sprawled like a starfish on the floor, and says, “you’re on coffee duty for the rest of your time here. And I want the fancy shit from For Five, not the homemade stuff.”

Liana whines. “No way, this was a clean prank,” she counters, kicking at Mat’s side and missing. “You agreed to be in the video.”

“Last time I do that,” Mat mutters, but he’s laughing under his breath and he presses a kiss to your forehead, so you know he doesn’t mean it. “You two are so fucking annoying.”

“But who would you say is more annoying?” You can’t help but ask, a cheeky smile on your face.

Mat groans and Liana lifts her hand for you to slap. You lean over in Mat’s lap to smack her hand and nearly fall over in the process. Mat’s fingers wrap around your thigh and keep you in place.

“No more Tik Tok,” he vows when you’re settled again, perched happily on his lap, your thighs bracketing his hips.

Liana pipes up from the floor before you have a chance, “okay, and not that i’m supporting you two being disgusting, so please wait until I go home, but what about that trend where the wife’s cooking naked when her husband gets home?”

You bite your tongue to hide a giggle and Mat’s head cocks, thinking. His fingers flex against your thighs. You loop your arms around his neck and trace your fingertips over the back of his neck. His forehead relaxes and you can feel his cock twitch with interest under your ass.

Eventually, he says, “okay, I’ll allow my participation in one more video.”

“That’s what I thought,” Liana mumbles. “Freaks.”

[somewhereincairparavel]

Annabeth Chase and Jason Grace - two sides of the same coin, an analysis post.

after a long wait, I've finally posted my analysis on jason/annabeth being similar, and mirroring eachother as rivals/potential sibling figures more than percy/jason's 'bro rivalry', based on this post of mine which has crossed over a THOUSAND notes in the last week alone, and I've been getting so many reblogs and comments asking me to expand on my tags in that post and do a full analysis. so here it is. I've been procrastinating this for quite a while now for some reason but I'm glad I'm over my writer's block and I got to articulate my post well enough.

annabeth and jason have had very minor interactions throughout hoo, but the parallels and similarities in their character is jarringly noticeable, which is why I hoped for a jason/annabeth rivalry and not a percy/jason rivalry. they've both been raised at their respective camps since they were literal kids, they were well versed in their respective fields of knowledge, and were well respected/intimidated in their camps.

let's start off with the lost hero

when jason first meets annabeth, he says that her eyes were really intimidating and fierce, so right off the bat, we have jason who's pretty put off by annabeth because she very obviously looked angry, especially since she was frustrated about jason's arrival instead of percy, and looked like she could kill jason to get percy back.

-----------------------------------------------

this parallels to a lot when hazel kept going on about how difficult it was to warm up to jason because his eyes were always calculating and cold, and he gave off an untrustworthy vibe, that he'd sacrifice anyone for the sake of the mission.

both annabeth and jason have a certain similar ‘look’ in their eyes, which have nothing to do with the color. they both have the tendency to make people nervous simply with their eyes, because they always look like they're thinking of new things every few seconds. Ironically, jason first perceived annabeth, the way everyone else perceived him. scary and intimidating with an icy glare and hardened eyes.

They were both said to be ‘studying’ each other in distrust many times throughout. A part of why they didn't trust each other, was, in my opinion, because they embodied their least favorite shared personality trait of each other, secretiveness and guardedness. which is why annabeth got on so well with percy, and jason with leo/piper.

they didn't admire the closed off-ish vibe that they gave eachother. they both needed people who were open and carefree.annabeth said that jason looked like he knew too much information, but chose to keep it all a secret, very similar to her own guardedness from time to time, keeping it a secret and wanting to deal with it silently.

we also know that annabeth and jason are extremely knowledgeable in greek/roman mythology, they both love debates and were quite passionate about history. they were both assigned architecture projects by the gods themselves as a mark of honor and favour.

moving on to the next most important point, they reminded eachother of the people they missed, causing them to feel resentful.

jason, barely met his sister after they reunited. he was bitter when thalia said he had to go look for percy to help out annabeth with the search. he was aware that thalia and annabeth were childhood friends, getting closer to eachother than jason and thalia ever did. she found a home in luke and annabeth, not even a few months after baby jason was thought to be ‘dead’, that knowledge would've weighed a lot on jason. annabeth became the sibling to thalia grace that jason could never be.

while annabeth? the only thing annabeth thought of, after jason had a face off with his mother's remnant in boo, was the fact that jason, who looks eerily similar to luke, could've experienced the exact same fate as him. luke was jason if he had more wrath and held grudges, jason was luke if he had less anger and resentment. annabeth could connect the dots so easily, and that was truly the moment where she gained immense respect for him.

and, when jason told annabeth that his sister was thalia? she had a very odd sort of expression on her face.

annabeth also quotes that looking at jason made her feel bitter, because he reminded her of heras exchange, and the fact that she lost percy for months. whenever she looked at jason, she would only see her two childhood friends, a found family that was broken, and a love that was challenged.

whenever jason looked at annabeth, he would be reminded that thalia had a closer contact to her than she did jason, and had to accept that he would never know thalia as much as annabeth does.

annabeth and jason also appear very confident and sure of themselves, but have second thoughts all the time. they had to put on a fake facade, to live up to their expectations and lineage.

they were both also sort of people pleasers, annabeth couldn't really say no to anyone who asked her for help with things, like carrying the sky for luke especially, because not only where they giving her a chance to execute her knowledge and skill, the thought of helping someone made her genuinely happy. jason also loved seeing people happy, always wanting to say the right thing to satisfy someone, even if it meant he had to sacrifice his own struggles to help them.

fatal flaws:

annabeth’s fatal flaw, is hubris. when you are confident and sure that you can do something, and have a sense of excessive self pride.

and jason's fatal flaw is the temptation to deliberate. hesitation and second guessing, to put it in simpler words.both fatal flaws are so different, yet so similar, and they have both flaws, just in a different viewpoint.

as a child of athena, annabeth appears super confident and even conceding at times because of her wisdom, but at the same time, annabeth had to make sure she was one step ahead of everyone. she had to rethink everything and had to have a plan in her mind all the time, fearing that things wouldn't go smoothly.

she had to hesitate and second guess herself alot, despite her knowledge, like she did when she knew she had to look for the mark of athena. piper and percy had to boost up her confidence with affirmations, to let her know she's on the right path and to just follow her gut. annabeth feels obligated to have a temptation to deliberate, because, as a child of athena, she has to be all knowing and wise, and most definitely cannot fail her mother.

and jason? despite having a very low sense of self esteem and hesitation, he was so used to leading the people who were considered slightly inferior to him in camp jupiter, and basically getting treated like a celebrity for 12 years of his life in camp jupiter, that often, he thought what he did was right, he had his own perception of what a hero should be, and I quote

[“No, no,” Jason said. “I made my choice. You’re not to blame. You don’t owe me anything except to remember what I said. Remember what’s important.” “You’re important,” I said. “Your life!”Jason tilted his head. “I mean… sure. But if a hero isn’t ready to lose everything for a greater cause, is that person really a hero?”He weighted the word person subtly, as if to stress it could mean a human, a faun, a dryad, a griffin, a pandos… even a god”- Tower of Nero]

which was normal, since he had everyone basically following his lead without question as a kid. he's expanded on this in his conversation with piper in mark of athena, where he said he felt weird to suddenly be around people who were either equal/or superior to him in power, and not being in the ‘lead’ particularly.

jason had hubris, but certainly not in a way that you would call it an ego or excessive pride. he was hardwired and brainwashed into having his own perception of what is right and what is wrong, that he thought he was always making good enough decisions, at least from a roman child soldier’s standpoint. [Like when he was okay with not saving nico because it might sabotage their mission, he genuinely didn't think what he said was insensitive until hazel called him out, because he was brought up that way. he thought he was doing the right thing, by prioritising the mission and the duty, first. Like the dutiful roman he was made to be].

both annabeth and jason, have hubris and a temptation to deliberate.

annabeth and jason, also had an extremely difficult time breaking free from the thoughts that their godly parents were always right. It took on alot of disappointments for both of them to stand up to their parents (and not just godly ones, mind you)

they've both had disappointing absent mortal and godly parents with a hostile stepmother involved and monitored with each and every one of their moves. annabeth has had to deal with her stepmother playing the ‘bad cop’ with her father not even coming to her defence, just the way hera came butting into jason's life and giving him terrible memories, taking him away from thalia, with zeus not even caring.

speaking of which, they are both the only demigods who have harboured the most amount of resentment for hera. just the sight of hera pisses them both off, as it hera, stripped off so much time away from annabeth and percy, and memories from jason, which he never permanently got back.

this is sort of irrelevant but I'll add this anyway, in boo, athena also immediately liked jason for calling out zeus's unfairness to apollo, saying something like 'the boy is right' and she gave him an approving/appreciative look for his wisdom, which is pretty rare for athena to say or do to literally any demigod ever. this makes me wonder if she ever saw jason as someone who had some sort of athena legacy in him, which is why she was so pleasantly surprised with him. ugh we could've so gotten jason and annabeth as potential sibling figures bc of how many parallels they have, too bad that the percy/jason rivalry narrative was pushed too hard.

I hope I've drawn enough parallels with their characters, as a lot of you have been looking forward to this post for a while, hopefully this analysis hasnt been underwhelming for you all to read!

@thevoidcaller @karmaajr @onestorytorulethemall @newlyfoundwren @thesummerstorms

[prentisslvr]

YES, AGENT part I

summary; you are emily’s doctor, and she is trying to get you to go out with her, only there’s on issue, you aren’t allowed to date patients.

pairings; emily prentiss x surgeon!reader

authors note; i hope yall like this considering it was the most voted for!!! i’m going to make another part for the date.

emily was well aware that you were stubborn, the last few weeks she had seen as a patient that was in your care she had learnt that very well.

emily had tried asking you out, she was used to batting her eyes and getting what she wanted.

she was a flirt, and she knew it. she also knew how to read someone, well, she was a profiler of course, but she also knew you wouldn’t let up.

‘i’m not allowed to date my patients, hospital rule, sorry’

you had said, whilst staring into her eyes with dilated pupils, a sign of attraction.

which only made her turn up her flirt game, she knew she shouldn’t be doing this, flustering you whilst you were at work, especially when you were meant to be taking care of her, but it was hard not to.

she had always scoffed and felt a little grossed out at the fact men found women in uniform hot, more specifically, they found emily in a uniform hot.

she had never understood the appeal until she saw you in scrubs.

she had been counting down the days until you were no longer her doctor, until she finally would be able to ask you out and she wouldn’t have to hear the ‘i can’t date my patient agent prentiss’ excuse anymore.

she knew you wanted to say yes, just as much as she did.

the moment you came into her rooms with her release forms she felt like she’d been given a golden ticket, she could finally get back on the field, and finally ask you out, without having to hear your excuses.

“so..” emily trailed off with a smirk, scribbling her signature on the files, looking up at you, she knew you could see what was coming, you sighed and looked down at her.

“can i finally get your number doctor?”

before you could even get a word in hedge-way she grins, “and don’t even think about using the whole doctor-patient, illegal excuse. since i am no longer your patient as of right… now.”

she says, finishing of the release form, handing over the clipboard. “now can i get your number doctor, so we can set up a date?”

your lips twitch into a smile and you finally give in nodding, “yes, agent.” you roll your eyes fondly at the woman in front of you. giving her your phone so she could type her number in.

“now if you don’t text me.” emily warms. “i do know where you work.”

you can’t help but feel warmth in your chest at the woman in front of you, how could you ever not want to text her? it had taken all your power to not say yes and give in these last few weeks, even now you were hesitant, as she was your patient.

but your feelings for her were strong.

“here.” you say, sending her phone a text. “now you have my number too, so you don’t have to worry about that.” you smile. “looking forward to our date agent.” you say as your pager goes off.

“i’ll see you around.”

[so-i-did-this-thing]

If we're going to look similar, I'm stealing all his fits. (Never mind the coat, pants, and vest were all things I've owned for years. I do want to replace them with more vintage cuts, tho.)

It's been fun using Siegfried as an excuse to push my style with details I've previously been too shy to do -- vintage cut dress shirt, cufflinks, tie/cravat, etc. (I thought I didn't like ties, but I do! I just hate ties that are too long for the vests & trousers I like.)

For this era + my style, the cravat feels like the most outlandish accessory and it was fun to wear! (As a hiker, I've worn a buff around my neck for years, so I pretty much forgot I had this on.) If I looked a little silly, I feel like I still looked hot. Which I hope is a bit my brand. 😅

Got a lot of nice compliments today from multiple genders and ages. I've been especially pleasantly surprised when bro-type guys shyly tell me they think I look sharp.

It's also just really nice to make small events extra-special by engaging in a little bit of dress-up. @crowtoed and I joke about needing to be the cutest couple at every small town event we attend, but it really has been beneficial to my mental health to go out of my way to look extra-nice on a semi-regular basis. :)

If I'm not the hottest man at the New England Fiber Festival, I'll die

[deathbxnny]

Oh yeah, raising literal childish soldiers canNOT be good for one's conscious 🥲

But, I'm glad you're eager for more of that succulent emotional hurt, though this one will be... different the previous ones. And without further adieu, let's get into it 😈

So, I've noticed how, in this series, any harm sent mother's way has always been somewhat second-handed, and psychological in nature. Physical arm has always gone to the Children of The House. So, what if for this scenario, "Mother" is the unexpected one coming to harm?

Now, I could definitely write up a scenario of "Mother" getting hurt in some drastic way, and Arle and the House Kids retaliate in grand fashion, but that would be... kinda generic, no? Rather, I'm thinking of a scenario where "Mother" is hurt by the one thing that not even The Knave herself can protect her from.

Herself.

Or more specifically, her own body. Lemme explain.

So, "Mother" is in a position that can be IMMENSELY stressful and emotionally draining, so imagine one day, it's about as normal as life in the Hearth can be, "Mother" is at work, performing or assigning chores, or maybe prepping a meal for the kids, with some their help. When suddenly, she's hit with immense chest pains, as though her rib cage is squeezing around her heart, it becomes hard to breath, hard to focus because of how dizzy she's become. That's right, Mama suffer (or very nearly suffer, that detail is up to you) a literal heart attack, give everyone in the House a good scare, if you would 🤭.

And so, after this incident "Mother" is pretty forced to "take it easy" so that she can recover (which according to some brief searches I've done, can take anywhere from a couple weeks to a few months). And, considering how "Mother" is definitely seems like she'd be something of a workaholic, someone who feels she needs to be present and contributing to be a "worthy" mother, suddenly being forced to take a break from all her usual daily tasks must make for an absolutely miserable experience for her.

So, in the meanwhile, Arle and the kids try to figure out some things to cheer her up and keep her mind occupied while she recovers.

X Anon

Heartfelt devotion. | Arlecchino x Fem!Wife!Reader

(Part one) (Part two) (Part three) (Part four)

A/N: Hello X Anon! Thank you so much for your request. I really enjoyed writing this. In fact, this turned out to be a bit of a personal piece due to me having had the experience of an immideate family member suffering a heart attack, so I put some of that into this fic, which is why I took a bit of a different approach to your idea. Either way, I hope it's to your liking X Anon!!<33

Content: Heart attacks, comas, angst, hurt/comfort, wife reader, mentions of Curcabena, reader becomes a bit delirious, trauma, sfw

Reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns!!

((Not proofread))

The will of the Tsaritsa never rested for anything.

The expectation for everyone to continue until nothing was left of them always weighed on your shoulders, but it did little to ever make itself noticeable in the ranks of the Fatui. Exhaustion? Sickness? Death? None of that was an excuse enough to stop. You were all motivated by the goal ahead, even if uncertainty of what exactly it was often lingered in your mind. It was inspiring to work hard even in the face of pure agony and hell. It's just how things were. That's just how you kept going for so long as an organization.

The Tsaritsa's gentle kindness was ultimately not enough of a reason when the cold, icy snow and wind of your home ripped at your skin hungrily for more of your soul to take.

And you especially, as the wife of a Harbinger and "Mother" of the House of Hearth, felt that deeply.

Day in, day out.

It was all the same in the house of Hearth that forever kept busy no matter the occasion. You were unofficially the head of it all. Your wife often had better things to do as a diplomat and therefore entrusted you with your family from day one. The title and duties of the "Mother" weighed on you painfully, just as expected from you. And whilst you've spent endless years attempting to repair the relationship between that title and the family, you still didn't feel like it was enough. The woman that raised you and the 4th Harbinger haunted you with every step, always looking over your shoulder with that sinister smile of hers. You could feel the scrutiny in her gaze, see the rage in her grin, hear her venomous words in that sweet, gentle voice of hers.

Arlecchino had moved on from her by taking on the title of "Father," but you remained cursed. You remained in the past where you belonged, fixing connections that died for a reason, yet you were stuck with due to your own doing. There were no regrets in your actions initially, but now, after seeing the carnage and death you had caused to your own children by sending them off to the grim reaper yourself, you realise that over time, your mind and body has become worn down dangerously. You were beginning to fall apart, yet tried to keep yourself together just enough to continue every day. Like everyone else here.

It was getting hard to move and sleep lately, however, something that should've unnerved you when it was first starting to become noticeable. But you waved it off like everything else, your mind focused on your daily tasks and responsibilities instead. With your wife abroad back in the motherland for a Harbinger meeting, you were stuck shouldering absolutely everything again, not that you ever protested or cared much. You saw it as a necessity, perhaps even an honor to work at her side and take care of such an important part of the Fatui. If only the glamor and patriotism didn't melt away every time you got a new death report regarding more of your children. Crucabena used to read them as though they were the latest fashion magazine, a content smile on her lips every time. You, on the other hand, shed endless tears, finding no enjoyment in what you've become.

How did she do it? How was she able to be so indifferent and cruel to you all without feeling a thing? What was the secret to absolut absolvation from the guilt and shame? Years later, you still find yourself asking these questions in the shadows of the night, your blurry reflection in the water of the cold bathtub mirroring her image. You wonder if you even were any different than her ultimately. You felt like you did the same things as her, just less cruel, less callous. Was your care and love for the children enough to make a difference?

"Of course not. You and I are one in the same, my dear child." You often hear her voice whisper to you in those painfully sleepless nights, and you wished Peruere was there to keep her quiet again.

Taking a deep breath, you let out a weak hum when you felt someone grab onto your shoulder with a gentle shake. "Mother?" Lyney asked carefully, brows furrowed in worry at your near catatonic state lately. You barely seemed alive at times, your blank stare staring through everyone, some of your tasks even neglected seemingly unbeknownst to you. Your movement was sluggish, slow, and clumsy. Everyone noticed this, and the worry was beginning to seep into all the children belonging to the house. This was nothing like you. And yet, you didn't seem to be aware of it. Or maybe you were ignoring it.

Either way, Lyney had enough of just watching you suffer, his gaze becoming stern when you gave him a tired look. "Have you... slept or eaten properly lately? You look ill." The answer was 'no' to both, of course. You haven't been able to eat much due to the sudden huge workload you were confronted with ever since their Father left for much longer than usual. Sleep was out of the question due to the odd pain and pressure in your chest whenever you laid down. This led to you often sitting in a chair instead in front of the fireplace in hopes of getting some sleep that way... but unfortunately, that didn't work either.

Gently shaking your head, you mustered the strength to give him a shaky smile in hopes of calming him. "I'm alright, dear, don't worry about me. It's just a little stress, nothing more." Ever so perceptive, you sighed when you saw his eyes narrow. He didn't believe you, and you certainly wouldn't believe yourself either. Something was terribly wrong, but you had no time to deal with it. You didn't want Lyney to take on any duties he didn't have to yet, even if he'll most likely be your wife's successor one day. The pressure was too much. You didn't want him to feel the way you did.

Behind him, you saw two agents enter the kitchen through the backdoor. Masks obscured their faces, but the aura they let in was grim and cold. One you were so awfully familiar with, including the documents in their hands. A red envelope peeked out, a silent sign of more carnage and death raised by your own hands. The pressure in your chest suddenly increased once more when the guilt crept back up your body and whispered those evil words of self-doubt into your ears again. "How... How many this time?" You breathed out, a hand pressed to your chest in pain. Lyney grabbed onto your arm in surprise as your body nearly keeled over. Your mind was ringing, and you couldn't even hear the response to your question anymore.

It was all too much. You couldn't take it anymore. In the forefront of your mind, the woman that raised you gave you a "proud" smile, like she always did. It sickened you, for it meant that you've done something that once again proved that your title was cursed.

"Mother!" Lyney yelled out in panic, quick to alert everyone around them to your collapsing form. This has never happened before. The Lady of the House never fell, never faltered. And yet, as you now laid there on the floor, hands pressed against your chest as you heaved painfully, unable to breathe, you realised that everything you've done in your life has led you to this point. This was karma. This was the pain you deserved. Your children's terrified faces faded away and swirled into your mother's dark, sinister gaze. She reached out to you, her gloved hand pressing against your sweating forehead and tearstruck eyes, but you didn't feel any comfort. You felt like another death report, her favorite and one she has been waiting for forever.

If this is how you died, then so be it. One thing about Curcabena was that she'll always find a place for you to sit next to her no matter what. This time, you supposed, it would be in hell for the hurt you've caused.

How fitting.

"... Is she going to ever wake up?" "Not for a while. The doctors said the coma is necessary for her recovery. The reanimation took too long and... it's on her now to awaken." Lynette took a deep breath, her voice coming out in hushed whispers in fear of being overheard by their stressed Father. When Arlecchino came back come after an emergency letter practically crashed into the meeting room through a panicked Fatui agent, she found herself in the middle of a near warzone. You kept the house together at all times. But with you being in a medically induced coma now, everything fell right onto Lyney's shoulders. The one thing you never wanted.

The Knave had yet to say a thing, her lips pressed into a thin line at all times, as she silently moved to reorganize everyone and ease the pressure off of the young man's shoulders. Not even three days of taking on everything, and he was done emotionally and physically. How did his mother do it every day? How was she able to function? How was she able to keep everything in mind, do every task with perfect precision? He had so much to still learn, and that's what your absence proved him so painfully.

But hope still remained. If you woke up soon, then things would get better. Then, no one needed to be so terrified anymore.

Freminet nervously leaned against the doorway to your room, red eyes casted downwards to his shoes in silent shame. Guilt was eating everyone in the house up, their hearts aching with the question, "Could we have done more?". Yet their father wasn't keen on answering anything, her reassurance coming in the form of stern orders and a call for strength from them all.

"I see... in that case, I'll stay and watch over her for the night. You should go rest, Lynette." The young man spoke, watching as his sister exhaled a deep breath and nodded reluctantly. No one was getting any sleep lately, but it's the thought that counted. Passing by him with a short hug they both needed, Freminet watched her disappear into the darkness of the corridor, the moonlight filtering in through the windows leading her way. Stepping into the room with a soft sigh, he closed the door behind him and approached your sleeping form. His father hadn't stepped into this room much due to how busy she was with the chaos that broke out with your absence... but when she was in here, he saw the way she'd just stare at you, the pain in those stern eyes melting the ice and leaving behind a worried, foreign gaze that was rare to see on her.

Pulling a chair to the edge of the bed, he leaned his head against your slowly rising and falling chest, his eyes fluttering close in hopes of catching the tears that threatened to fall again. He wanted you to wake up so badly. It hurt to see you in this broken, weakened state. You were so pale and looked hollow, like all the life had been taken out of you. It was a terrifying sight that he could only barely comprehend. You have never looked like this before. You were always so strong and domineering.

He just couldn't believe it.

Fingers running through his blonde hair calmly is what made him flinch back to reality, his body reeling backward in surprise, yet the hand kept him there firmly. "Calm down, child... don't be afraid. It's just me." It was your voice, yet it sounded raspy and defeated, a slight slur to it from the lack of using it. Freminet froze and stared into the white covers of your bed, his tears dampening the soft fabric. But you didn't seem to notice his plight at first. He wanted to stay still, in case this was a dream. He was afraid that a single sudden move would make you fall back into your coma, the irrational thought plaguing him painfully.

"Mother..." "... Is this... heaven, after all?" You whispered, mind returning to the woman that haunted you. Surely, this must be the bliss before the storm. You imagined that soon flames and the hands of the children you've sent to their death would reach out and drag you down with them. And yet, all you got was the blonde boy pulling himself back again and grabbing onto your hand. "N-No! You're... you're alive." He stuttered out in panic and confusion, wishing someone else would help him, someone else could be here with you and take care of you much better than he could.

But once you processed those words of his, your heart skipped a beat in panic. The emotions finally caught up to you, and the surge of emotions made you attempt to sit up. Letting out a small yelp, Freminet attempted to hold you down and comfort you, knowing how you were about the house and your duties. The doctors had warned about this happening, too. Yet nothing could have prepared him for the sheer strength you demonstrated despite everything that happened. Something which could prove deadly soon, if you didn't relax immideatly.

And as though the heavens had heard his prayers, the door to the room creaked open, and in came his Father, an unreadable expression on her face at the sight of your struggling form. You were alive and somehow filled with energy, which unnerved her a little deep down. This certainly was going against your bedrest orders. "Peruere, I... I'm sorry for disappointing you- I'll get back to my duties as soon as I-" Her hand rose, and your deafening silence came with it. Taking slow steps towards you, her hand came down to rest on top of her trembling son's head. A silent absolvation from his duties for tonight.

"It's okay. You have not disappointed me in the slightest. Now rest." Her voice was stern and cold like it always was, but beneath the icy surface, you could feel the warmth and worry spread through her like a wild fire. She didn't want you to feel this way, and you could tell that the state you were in hurt her deep down. You and your family were her only weaknesses. Wanting to ease her pain, you leaned back into the soft pillows, eyes not daring to look up at her anymore. Why did you feel so ashamed? Perhaps because you should have taken care of yourself better. If you had, then maybe you wouldn't feel like a burden now. As though she was reading your mind, Arlecchino gave her son a curt nod, which he immideatly took as his sign to reluctantly leave.

Silence now overtook you both until she sighed and took a seat in the chair Freminet was in earlier. The moonlight filtering in through the open window illuminated the side of her tense face, her unique eyes near glowing. It was a peaceful moment, despite the pain that now raked through your entire body and especially chest. You closed your eyes weakly in relief when you felt her clawed hand carefully caress your sweat drenched face, your throat feeling so awfully dry as you gulped.

"I... I need to get up... I need to go back to work." "Not for a while." "... For how long then." A week maybe, you hoped. It was more than enough. It was all you allowed yourself, and even that was pushing it. Your restless mind was spinning in circles at all the tasks it still had to complete, and you felt yourself at a loss for words when she shook her head with the faintest frown. She knew you too well. You were an open book she had read many times over and couldn't get enough of. "Six weeks. Perhaps even longer after, depending on your state-..." She stopped herself when she saw your body trembling, and in the dimmest moonlight, she saw tears glinting in your eyes.

"Please don't cry. This is for your own good. I was... afraid when I heard of what happened. In fact, I'm grateful that you are alive, my songbird." Oh, how delicate her words were. Her honesty was forever going to be proof of her undying love for you. The ache is your heart lessened at the gentle warmth that spread through you from her touch, her tone lulling you into the safety you've craved ever since you fluttered your eyes open again. If only the guilt left with it. "What of our children? I must've scared them terribly. Especially my poor Fremi'..." You whispered after a moment of contemplation. Arlecchino watched your sick, tired form with kind eyes that were only reserved for you.

She figured that you'd feel this way. You were always so desperate to prove yourself to absolutely everyone. Whether it was to her, your children, or even the entire organization, you wanted to show everyone that you were better than Crucabena. Yet no matter how many years past, and no matter how much you achieved, you were never able to realise the truth. You had always been better than her from day one. The moment you rebelled and refused to take her side on the day, Arlecchino defeated her was proof of it.

"Do not fret over them. The children are strong. It is you that we need to worry about now. Just take it easy and sleep." Her words were comforting, even if short and to the point. You trusted them with your life. And yet, the feeling of being a burden just creeped up your body until you fell into a restless slumber once more.

The next few weeks were filled with nothing short of attention and borderline spoiling from all children in the house and beyond. Whether young or old, they all took care of you in the same way you cared for them. Something you could only barely handle. You felt like you should be doing that for them only, never the other way around. Yet under your wife's iron gaze, you were left with no choice but to accept your fate and stay put in bed or, on the rare occasion, in the living room near the fireplace. Lyney and his siblings especially took charge of your care, and you couldn't help but feel guilty at what you've put them through. You had attempted to apologize to the young man plenty of times for simply collapsing the way you did in front of him, but he'd always wave you off with a gentle smile. One they all attempted for you to mirror again.

The magician and Lynette would perform small shows just for you, knowing how much you enjoyed their tricks. Freminet, who was practically glued to your side, would read books with you about sea animals, whilst the other children brought you tasty pastries and food. The house was kept spotless by everyone, and you didn't have to lift a singular finger. And your wife was more affectionate with you in her own special way. Gentle kisses and careful, early morning cuddles were the norm, despite her reluctance for physical touch beforehand. You could tell through her actions that the state you were in had hit you deeper than she was most likely aware, and it didn't help the small guilt that was still left in your heart. All she had left from her old life was you. The woman she considered her wife and the mother of the house.

And by the time you've mostly recovered fully, you realised that the past wasn't haunting you anymore. Crucabena's strict hold on you had faded away, even if you knew that she was simply waiting for your arrival in hell one day. But your small revenge would leave her seething, absolutely enraged for years to come first.

In fact, it felt so good to be alive now.

[kytiapseud]

In Defense of Epic Manwhore au

Okay, so I’m kinda nervous to post this but I feel like it should be said. I hope I tagged correctly for the topics I discuss in this. So, in defense of the Manwhore au as for the concept being coerced, it’s not like the god(s) said ‘you’ll die if you don’t have sex with me’. Odysseus is the one who brings it up. Although yes, the line of consent there is a bit murky with Odysseus more doing so to get out of situations rather than because he wants to. It’s totally valid for some fans to not be a fan of the au, not everything in fan spaces is for everyone. You are entitled to your opinion and get to make your fandom experience safe for you. There is something I saw though that felt like commentary about those who came up with/ enjoy the au. To me this felt close to attempted fandom censoring or those who try to ‘cleanse’ all fandom content to what they think is morally correct. Again, it is fine if you want to share your thoughts on something. But I hope no one comes after those who do enjoy the au. I haven’t seen that happen yet, I’m hoping it doesn’t. But the generalization about what it says about those who enjoy the au doesn’t sit right with me. For reasons like I mentioned above, about worrying it could turn into attempted censoring. Especially if anyone tries to get others to agree to black-and-white thinking about what they think is true. That could easily turn into justification to harassment, which I have seen in fandom spaces before. Particularly with anti-proshippers.

There may be valid criticisms to this au concept, but that doesn’t mean everyone who is a fan likes it for the same reasons. Let me address some of what I’ve seen though. The joking about Odysseus being a Manwhore coming from homophobia. Yeah, that’s possible (although personally I feel like a homophobe is more likely to not even mention gay things.) I don’t think that’s always the case though. I know there was one animatic I saw, the first thing I saw for the au, that had a joke in it that I didn’t like. I don’t judge this creator, and in fact it’s a common joke I’ve seen. Particularly with people wishing they didn’t see something. It just doesn’t vibe with me. In no way do I think that those who say such jokes have something wrong with them. People have different senses of humor and I think some use such jokes as a way to cope.

Anyways, I think some of the humor more comes from how unexpected it would be. I mean, we have a war captain facing foes who instead of choosing to fight goes for seducing them. It’s certainly interesting. I know some of the jokes come from the others not involved in the coupling being just shocked or grossed out. I think that more comes from like not wanting to see someone else talk about or get busy with another? I mean, some of these men probably consider each other to be like brothers. I imagine that would be weird. I think homosexuality wasn’t taboo in ancient Greece, I’m not entirely sure though I may need to do more research on that. So there could be some homophobia to the jokes, but I don’t think that’s the case for everyone. It certainly wasn’t for me. It could also be lgbt+ fans wanting to see more gay stuff in the story. Gay shipping isn’t uncommon after all.

I don’t think everyone who talks about the Manwhore au has no problem joking about sa. There can be many reasons why someone may enjoy a concept in media. You don’t know. Like how women are criticized for rape fantasies. I watched a documentary about sex once (I can’t remember which one this was in now) and there was a whole segment about the rape fantasy, discussing why this is an appeal to some women. It did not mean these women want to be raped of course. Part of it could come from a culture of feeling pressure to not experience any sexual feelings, so the scenario allowed them to experience something without feeling guilty about it. There isn’t always a clear explanation for why someone can find something sexy.

I think this started as a joke, but I wouldn’t be surprised if there were some who wanted something sexy in their Epic fan experience. I mean, having read the Odyssey in school (twice actually) I did not expect I would want to see Odysseus in such a scenario. But then I saw one sexy fanart of him with others and cough I ended up liking it more than I expected. Those who have seen my reblogs on this tag know heh.

There’s also the infidelity notion. I feel like given the situation, Penelope would understand. I also saw some comments that they could be poly, which is a concept I like for this. I’ve also seen mention that human relationships with gods have ended up tragically for the humans involved. I don’t think everyone who listens to Epic knows about that. I didn’t. But again, this goes back to it being fantasy. People enjoying picturing it the way they want to. It doesn’t have to be accurate to the myths. It’s fanfiction/au.

I think the infidelity notion to it didn’t bother me as much as others because in the original, he wasn’t faithful. Sorry for Odyssey spoilers I guess. Anyways, I was already used to him being a cheater. Although the one with Circe may match more with the coercion along the lines of ‘sleep with me for your crew’. The knife that’s been shown in some animatics wasn’t in the original. It’s been a while since I’ve read it so I’m not entirely sure about how that went down.

Referring back to if Odysseus wants it even if he was the one who offered (sorry if I’m all over the place with this, I have a lot of thoughts.) Seducing foes doesn’t necessarily mean he didn’t want it. There’s a character in a Sanders Sides roleplay I was in named Remy (Sleep), whose rp version was created/and played by the wonderful @queroze , who was proclaimed by them to be a manslut. His go-to to get out of situations, if he saw it was a fit strategy, was to seduce. Sure, he got into situations that weren’t great, but often he was the active one in the seducing. I wouldn’t say his go-to being to seduce meant it wasn’t always consensual. In fact, there’s many descriptions and some statements from Que themselves saying Remy loved bringing pleasure to his partners.

Then there’s the mention of the unlikeliness of the scenario actually happening. I don’t think this matters that much to be honest. It’s fandom enjoyment. Who cares if people want to enjoy something that doesn’t seem likely in canon? I personally couldn’t see seduction working, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t find the concept entertaining. Sure people shouldn’t insist it could occur to the creators. But aside from that, it doesn’t affect you. Enjoying fan spaces is way more fun if we let things stay peaceful.

I kinda want to write a fanfic now that adjusts to some of the critiques I’ve seen of this au. I know I said I probably wouldn’t, but I got inspired while planning this heh.

[helpmeimblorboing]

You know what I hope turns out to be the case with Six Hundred Strike ?

I hope it was all a part of Poseidon’s plan. A Hail Mary Pass, to finally convince Odysseus that mercy and diplomacy are pointless and that Ruthlessness is the only way forward. Strip him of any lingering hope that he can talk his way out of this bind, and watch him fall to Ruthlessness as a final resort, watch him prove Poseidon right

If you want to add even more spice to it, maybe he knew that Penelope’s suitors were waiting on Ithaca. Maybe he knew that Ody would have to be truly ruthless in order to beat them all, not the wavering monstrousness he’s shown up to this point. Maybe that’s why he purposefully handed Odysseus a Catch-22, a situation where the only way out is ruthlessness

And as he points out in the song - he’s a god, it’s not like he can die. What does he have to lose, other than some time and a bit of pain ?

Either that, or Athena lent him part of her divinity as he sank beneath the waves (which would explain the 600 voices, and the glowing eyes). Or Zeus, who’s sick and tired of his brother’s spat with this meaningless mortal - the same spat that caused him to nearly kill his favorite daughter. Or Apollo, because Odysseus has had Apollo’s favor all along - the repeated usages of a bow, consulting Tiresias, and, of course, Apollo’s non-argument in God Games. Or Hera, goddess of marriage, for obvious reasons

You know why I hope that ? Because even if he assume Poseidon is enough of a good sport to be like “oh shucks, I guess I lose”, ZEUS ISN’T

We’ve seen what happens when Zeus’ pride gets challenged before in Epic canon. He fried his own daughter over it for fuck’s sake. Do you really think he won’t take Odysseus, a MORTAL, torturing not just a major god but his BROTHER, personally ?

Because if I’m wrong, and it really was all unplanned and unaided, Ithaca is about to be a smoking ruin. Zeus is NOT going to let this display of insolence go unpunished, especially since it makes him look bad.

(Also, let’s not forget. Ithaca is a fucking island. Forget Zeus - what do you think POSEIDON is going to do once he registers the gravity of this offence ?)

(Also, I’m not even going to touch the buzzing wasp-hive that is discourse about whether Odysseus should even have been ABLE to defeat one of the bigger gods powerless when he needed moly to beat a minor goddess before, but having the aid of one or more gods, or having Poseidon purposefully pulling his punches, would certainly explain that)

[boredom-reigns]

Steam is a pretty messy place to look for games if you're not sure what you want. Part of this is because of the tag system. Steam lets not only developers but also users add tags to games. This leads to kind of a mess as users can tag things incorrectly or jokingly, making it harder to determine which tags are applicable to games.

I recommend looking at a game's store page, check out the description and maybe look it up online for more detailed reviews on what it contains and such. Games also have gameplay trailers to get a better grasp on how they actually play.

As for game genres themselves... the best way I can explain it is, think of movie or book or music genres. Game genres operate similarly where ges with similar elements are categorized together to make it easier for players to go "if I like this, then I like that". Of course, because there are different parts of gameplay/story/atmosphere, this leads to games having multiple genre descriptions, which I understand can be hard for people not used to browsing this space.

Horror games are exactly that, for horror experiences. Cozy games are more of a new trend indicating chill experiences (a popular example is Stardew Valley, where you play as a farmer and essentially manage a farm). However, they're genres more relating to atmosphere.

Stardew Valley is cozy, but gameplay-wise, it's a Farming Simulator. In comparison, something like Doki Doki Literature Club for example, is horror. But gameplay-wise it's a Visual Novel. Compare that to say, Resident Evil, which is also horror. But its gameplay is Third-person Shooter.

Super Mario may not be giving you an emotional experience, but that's because that wasn't part of the game's goal. However, its genre would be a Platformer. Even back in the day, it has always been described as a Platformer.

Roguelikes on the other hand, are generally determined with randomized environment and permadeath. The idea behind most roguelikes is every "run" in a randomized map will lead you to gaining more experience in the gameplay and when you die, you lose all the temporary upgrades and power-ups. And every new run has you get better and better due to understanding the systems better. That premise makes it a genre category that games fall into.

The elements after that in the wikitionary screenshot are about the different gameplay styles in a roguelike. Hades is a roguelike Hack and Slash. Slay the Spire on the other hand, is a Deckbuilder roguelike, with card-based gameplay rather than real-time action like Hades. But both of them have the elements of randomized environments and permadeath that color the experience of roguelikes, hence why they're categorized in the same genre.

Essentially: games have many elements, from gameplay to the experience to the atmosphere. Therefore, it's usually pretty hard to categorize them into one single genre, especially when a genre can lead to more variations. That's why we usually pair up genre descriptors. Turn-based RPG vs Action RPG. Card-based Roguelike vs Hack and Slash Roguelike. Horror Visual Novel vs Dating Sim Visual Novel. You can see how those differences can lead to completely different experiences that players would want to be informed about.

A comparison would be say, in books. A Dark Romance is different from a Romantic Comedy. A Supernatural Horror would have different implications too, from say, a Sci-fi Horror. See how it's a similar system?

I know that genres are very much a mess. Even in other media that require genres, they are definitely flimsy. But the categorizations do exist for a reason. For players, it's to easily discover what they want. For developers, it's so they can target the proper demographic. But even now, there are arguments in regards to the nitty gritty aspects of genres, especially subgenres.

But hey, that's what happens in most media with genres anyway! Think about people talking about the different nuances of the subgenres of rock music.

I hope I don't sound overbearing or annoying! I just wanted to help with the clarification regarding these matters. I know it's hard to get (hell, I didn't understand what a roguelike was when I first saw it too), but I just felt like genre categorization has been a part of gaming forever. It's just easier to see the variety now that gaming is more accessible nowadays. And definitely simultaneously harder and easier to wade through.

And as someone who engages with game development, I just felt uncomfortable brushing this all off as "old games were Just A Game" stuff versus "New Convoluted Things". Would you say it's Just A Book and not a romance or a horror? or something is Just A Song and not something you'll call rock or pop or classical?

Again, I hope this doesn't rub you the wrong way! I'm not trying to call you out or be mean or anything! I just really felt the need to clarify all of this.

i must have spent hours at this point just scrolling through steam trying to find a single game i might be interested in. what is all this stuff. no matter what search filters I enter it doesn't even seem to change the types of things. is literally everything tagged "exploration" and "adventure" and "open world" and "simulation" or what

i don't want to play a "cozy" game. I don't want to play a "horror" game. why are games trying to make me feel one of two binary emotions. just because i don't want to play "the Entity is gonna Get You in the Evil House" doesn't mean I want to play "Happy Strawberry Sunshine Farm."

this is an unfamiliar world to me. like super mario wasn't trying to give me a specific rigidly defined emotional experience. It was just a Game.

i don't even know what most of these genres are like wtf is a roguelike.

none of those things inherently go together more than they go with anything else. it's just a list of things