#even just me projecting my mental illnesses onto one of them lined up

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

Zionists are genocidal religious extremists. And you claim religion is mental illness. Seems you are more mentally ill than you think huh buddy. But i get it, it's extremely easy to believe what you believe when you're so abrasive and unpleasant that you have no one off line to discuss these things with. Hopefully your self made misery at least gives you a fake sense of purpose, otherwise you're just sitting here stewing for nothing :)

LOL. Sure, hon. How much did that new globe cost, because you're projecting. You're talking about yourself. Something is not right in the pit of your stomach, and you're projecting it onto me.

Here's what's funny. Zionism is political, not religious. It's not about making everyone Jewish, its about maintaining a political entity of Israel.

Zionism | ˈzīəˌnizəm | noun a movement for (originally) the re-establishment and (now) the development and protection of a Jewish nation in what is now Israel. It was established as a political organization in 1897 under Theodor Herzl, and was later led by Chaim Weizmann.

So, by saying this:

genocidal religious extremists

What you've accidentally done is admit that you're not talking about political Zionism, you're talking about religious Judaism. You've revealed yourself as a Nazi-grade antisemite for all the world to see.

Israel could annihilate the entire Gaza Strip, but don't. Hamas want to obliterate Israel, but can't. You haven't even figured that out yet. If there was an actual "genocide," it would have been over months ago. How monumentally dumb are you?

There is no "genocide." There is a war. They are different and you know it. A war Hamas, the Nazis Of Color (NOC), started. One you celebrated until it became clear Hamas is inevitably going to lose. It's only a matter of time.

The IDF said it was intended to enable residents to "evacuate from specific places for their safety if required." 

Residents in multiple numbered areas were sent SMS warnings on Friday, the military said.  

"The IDF will begin a crushing military attack on your area of residence with the aim of eliminating the terrorist organization Hamas," the warnings said, urging people in the sectors to seek shelter and "stay away from all military activity of every kind."

"As someone who teaches division level urban warfare, what has really blown my mind is that Israel issued maps to the civilians [in Gaza] telling them where they would be operating each day. … I've never seen a military do that," said Spencer, who visited Israel last month and toured the combat zone in and around Gaza. 

"Doing this puts the attacking military at a disadvantage because it signals to the defending military what they’re doing," he said. "The element of surprise is usually a top priority in wars, but Israel is giving up all of that in order to prevent civilian harm.

"If that is going to be the standard going forward, I don't know how the U.S. military and others are going to do that. We’re not going to send text messages. We’re not going to be able to put out maps, even if we do decide to give warnings."

What the hell kind of "genocide" involves sending text messages and distributing maps of where Israel's military initiatives will be conducted to the same people your pea-sized brain thinks they want to exterminate? Do you even comprehend how completely fucking retarded you are? Of course you can't.

Israel does everything it can to minimize civilian casualties. Hamas does everything it can to maximize civilian casualties.

The civilian to target (i.e. Hamas) casualty ratio for the Israel initiatives has been 1.5:1. In normal urban warfare, 9:1 is regarded as acceptable. A sixth of any average urban war.

Let me put that another way: if this was any other army but Israel's there should and would be six times as many civilian casualties as there have been. And it would still be regarded as an average urban war with acceptable losses. And even then it would still not qualify as a "genocide."

You have literally nothing to back up your stupid, ignorant claim. It's false. It's demonstrably false. It's factually false. It's ridiculously false.

And that's when you started pretending and lying and gaslighting and lying some more. You know it's not a genocide. You know it. You know it for a fact. You're just repeating stupid mantras because you're a shallow, mindless follower and you're afraid of what would happen if you sat down and thought for yourself. You might lose your tribe and your unwarranted moral certitude.

What you're angry about is that I tell the truth and I don't care who it upsets, while you're too cowardly to step out of line with the authoritarian tribalists you've associated yourself with. You're terrified they'll turn on you, and you're taking it out on me because I don't carry the same burden as you.

What's fascinating is that your whole "Zionist" schtick is literally the same "Jews control the world" tinfoil hat conspiracy nutcase crap as right-wing cranks have been spewing for years. The far-left and the far-right are now collaborating on their conspiracy theories, apparently, because you're completely in sync. You're regurgitating far-right talking points, yet you think you're being original and progressive.

So, let's loop back to this, because it's jaw-droppingly astonishing.

genocidal religious extremists

It's the most self-unaware thing I've heard of in months.

You want to talk genocidal religious extremists? You support literal fundamentalist religious terrorists. Actual, literal Islamic far-far-far-right, kill-and-die-for-Allah, fundamentalist terrorists. People who murder gay people and throw acid in the faces of women who do not cover properly.

https://quranx.com/Hadith/Nasai/DarusSalam/Volume-3/Book-23/Hadith-2527

It was narrated from 'Abudullah bin Hubshi Al-Khath 'ami that the Prophet was asked: "Which deed is best?" He said: "Faith in which there is no doubt, Jihad in which there is no stealing of the spoils of war, and Hjijatun Mabrurah."[1] It was said: "Which prayer is best? He said:"That in which there is ling Qunut (standing)." It was said: "Which charity is best?" He said: "The poor's night." It was said: "Which Hijrah (emigration) is best?" He said: "One who shuns (Hahara) that which Allah has forbidden." It was said: "One who strives against the idolaters with his life and his wealth. "It was said: "Which death is best?" He said: "One who sheds his blood while his horse's feet are cut with swords."

https://quranx.com/Hadith/Malik/USC-MSA/Book-21/Hadith-4

Yahya related to me from Abdullah ibn Abd ar-Rahman ibn Mamar al- Ansari that Ata ibn Yasar said that the Messenger of Allah, may Allah bless him and grant him peace, said, "Shall I tell you who has the best degree among people? A man who takes the rein of his horse to do jihad in the way of Allah."

https://quranx.com/Hadith/Muslim/USC-MSA/Book-20/Hadith-4635

It has been narrated on the authority of Anas b. Malik (through a different chain of transmitters) that the Messenger of Allah (ﷺ) said: Nobody who enters Paradise will (ever like to) return to this world even if he were offered everything on the surface of the earth (as an inducement) except the martyr who will desire to return to this world and be killed ten times for the sake of the great honour that has been bestowed upon him.

That law is shari'a. That means, no music. That means no memes, no fandoms, no art with representations of living creatures. That means one religion and one religion only: Islam. That means no history other than Islamic history. You want to leave? You die. You object? You die. You violate the tenets of Islam? You die.

Every single thing you love, they hate. Everything you are, they hate. Everything about you, they hate. They want to destroy all of it. Nothing about you is acceptable within shari'a.

Nothing. Everything about you disappears when the genocidal religious extremists of Hamas get their way.

You're an ignorant, stupid, smooth-brained lemming being used by religious fanatics who hate you and intend to murder you when they achieve Islamic supremacy.

You doubt me? Here's a Palestinian imam saying so himself.

It's absolutely astonishing how mindlessly ignorant and desperate you are to be murdered by the totalitarian fanatics for whom you work overtime as an apologist.

Imagine being a "they/them" and defending the most extreme far-right oppressive, misogynistic, homophobic, violent ideology that has ever existed, and thinking you were a moral and intellectual genius.

Do you know how women say "I do" in an Islamic marriage ceremony? That's a trick question. Their consent is not required. She's not even asked.

What happens when a woman doesn't want to have sex with her husband? Because she is obligated to do so when summoned, Allah is mad at her and she is cursed.

https://quranx.com/Hadith/Bukhari/USC-MSA/Volume-4/Book-54/Hadith-460

Narrated Abu Huraira: Allah's Messenger (ﷺ) said, "If a husband calls his wife to his bed (i.e. to have sexual relation) and she refuses and causes him to sleep in anger, the angels will curse her till morning."

https://quranx.com/23.1-6?Context=3

Certainly will the believers have succeeded: They who are during their prayer humbly submissive And who shun vain conversation, And they who are observant of zakah And they who guard their private parts Except from their wives or those their right hands possess, for indeed, they will not be blamed

"Those their right hand possess" means sex-slaves. Concubines. Women enslaved specifically for sex.

So, when you say:

genocidal religious extremists

You have literally no idea what you're talking about. You're dangerously ignorant.

They want to kill you. They intend to kill you. They hate you. They will not accept you. They regard you as an abomination. When they get their hands on you, your "pronouns" will be was/were.

That's the blunt reality.

https://quranx.com/27.55

Do you indeed approach men with desire instead of women? Rather, you are a people behaving ignorantly."

https://quranx.com/29.28

And [mention] Lot, when he said to his people, "Indeed, you commit such immorality as no one has preceded you with from among the worlds.

https://quranx.com/26.173

And We rained upon them a rain [of stones], and evil was the rain of those who were warned.

https://quranx.com/9.29

Fight against such of those who have been given the Scripture as believe not in Allah nor the Last Day, and forbid not that which Allah hath forbidden by His messenger, and follow not the Religion of Truth, until they pay the tribute readily, being brought low.

https://quranx.com/Hadith/Bukhari/USC-MSA/Volume-1/Book-8/Hadith-387

Narrated Anas bin Malik: Allah's Messenger (ﷺ) said, "I have been ordered to fight the people till they say: 'None has the right to be worshipped but Allah.' And if they say so, pray like our prayers, face our Qibla and slaughter as we slaughter, then their blood and property will be sacred to us and we will not interfere with them except legally and their reckoning will be with Allah."

Just because you hate yourself, your life and the safe, comfortable, western world you live in doesn't mean the rest of us are going to let you take us down with you.

You want to annihilate yourself? Go for it. But you won't take the rest of us along off the cliff you're determined to go flying off.

Re-examine every part of your stupid, miserable life, you utter, utter moron.

[roanofarcc]

PROJECT SUNSHINE CHAPTER FORTY NINE → EYES CLOSED, HEAD FIRST, CAN’T LOSE

summary: steve harrington x oc | on ao3

when another product of Hawkins National Laboratory escaped a long-survived nightmare alongside her sister, she crashed into one unsuspecting teenage boy and dragged him deeper into the dark mysteries that made up their hometown.

word count. || masterlist || ocs moodboard

warnings: cannon typical violence, child abuse, horror, gore, and depictions of mental illness. parts of this story were written pre-season 4 release. cannon divergence.

a/n: words cannot express my love for erica sinclair...

previous chapter ← → next chapter

They had absolutely no idea where they were going. The only thing Sunshine knew was that they certainly were heading straight into trouble with no other way out. Her neck hurt from how she slept slumped against Steve’s shoulder for only a couple of hours, and everyone else seemed to have just as uncomfortable slumber as herself. They had little to nothing on them. Dustin’s backpack had a couple of snacks, a few dollars, his walkie-talkie, and his tape recorder. Sunshine had no idea what Erica had in her backpack, but she doubted the younger girl had packed any survival items or weapons, considering she was ten and only planned to haggle ice cream out of Steve and Robin before going to her friends for a sleepover. None of them were prepared for whatever awaited them at the end of the hallway, if there even was an end. 

“You have to admit, as a feat of engineering alone this is impressive,” Dustin said, breaking the silence that had befallen the group a couple of minutes into their journey. 

“What are you talking about? It’s a total fire hazard,” Steve said. “There’s no stairs, no exit, just an elevator that drops you halfway to hell.” 

Erica shot them an unamused look over her shoulder. “They’re commies. If you don’t pay people, they’ll cut concerns.” 

“To be fair to our Russian comrades, I don’t think this tunnel was designed for walking.” Robin jumped into the conversation, picking at her nails as she kept her gaze forward at the expanse of the hall. Sunshine knew a nervous habit when she saw one. Robin hadn’t stopped picking at her nails since last night. They were red and looked on the urge of bleeding. Of course she was nervous, Sunshine thought, none of them signed up for this part of their ‘mission.’ And Robin, up until that moment, had lived a fairly normal life, free of life or death situations. Now she was stuck with three people who had encountered enough life-or-death situations for all five of them twice over. 

“Think about it,” Robin continued, rambling quickly. “They developed the perfect system for transporting that cargo. It all comes into the mall like any old delivery, they load it up onto those trucks, and nobody’s the wiser.” It was smart. The mall was the last place anyone would suspect any suspicious activity due to the constant crowd it drew in.

“You think they built this whole mall so that they could transport that green poison?” asked Steve. 

“I don’t think it’s poison,” Sunshine replied. She didn’t know what the green goo was, but it had to be something more important than poison. Whatever it was, was bad if it warranted such secretive transportation and heavy guard. 

Dustin nodded in agreement with Sunshine. “Yeah, I seriously doubt it's something that boring.” Steve scoffed but kept his lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s gotta be more valuable, like promethium or something.” The only person who knew what Dustin was talking about was Robin, who hummed in response. 

“Promethium?” Steve quirked a brow, waiting for an explanation. 

“It's what Victor Stone’s dad used to build Cyborg’s bionic and cybernetic components,” explained Robin, clearing absolutely nothing up. 

“You’re all so nerdy it's making me physically ill.” Erica placed a hand over her stomach and doubled over, pretending like she was going to be sick on her shoes. It made Sunshine smile, even in their disastrous situation. 

Sunshine hadn’t been around Erica much, not enough to get to know the girl, but she had heard Lucas complain about his little sister a million times over. She was spunky and amusing, and a little different than her brother but they looked too alike to mistake them as anything other than siblings. There was a signature Sinclair-determined glint that Sunshine saw in Erica’s eyes after she successfully crawled through the vent that she had seen mirrored in Lucas’s eyes a couple of times. They also resemble spitting images of their parents, sharing the same nose and shape eyes. Sunshine only wished she had the chance to get to know Erica under any kind of different circumstances. 

“No, no, no,” Steve protested. “Do not lump me in with them. I am not a nerd.”

“Why so sensitive Harrington?” asked Robin, teasingly. “Afraid of losing cool points to a child?” 

“No,” he scoffed. “I’m just saying that I don’t know jackshit about Prometheus.” 

“Promethium,” Dustin quickly corrected. “Prometheus is a Greek mythological figure, but whatever. All I’m saying is, whatever that stuff is, it’s probably being used to make something or power something.” 

“Like a nuclear weapon,” Robin wondered aloud. Sunshine bit down hard on the inside of her cheek, holding back worry that crawled up her throat. She did not want to believe they were heading towards any kind of weapon. The naive side of her brain wanted to believe that they’d stumble upon a door or a lost keycard and walk right out of the place as if they had never even been there in the first place. But the realistic half of her brain knew they would encounter some kind of trouble one way or another, and she needed to be ready for a fight.

“Great, so we may be walking toward a nuclear weapon.” Steve huffed. 

Robin stopped picking her nails and furrowed her brows, falling into what looked like deep thought. “I don’t get it, though. If they are building something, why here? Why Hawkins? At the very best we’re a toilet stop on your way to Disneyland.”

Sunshine, Steve, and Dustin faltered at Robin’s words, lingering just behind Robin and Erica as they continued wondering why anyone would do anything in Hawkins. They had no idea what had already happened in the town; the place was a nightmare hiding in plain sight; a little boring town that was home to slayed monsters and runaway experiments. There were only two reasons why anyone would be interested in Hawkins, and they went hand-in-hand. They’d only be interested if they knew what lurked beside them in another world not too unlike their own, and the place that opened the bridge between the two worlds. 

“Maybe you were right,” Dustin said, looking guiltily at Sunshine. 

“You think they might know about…” Steve trailed off because he didn’t need to finish his sentence for Sunshine and Dustin to know exactly what he was getting at. 

Sunshine felt her gut twist tighter into a knot. “They could.” She couldn’t imagine what would happen if anyone at all discovered the truth about the Upside Down, Russian or not. She didn’t know what they meant for them once they reached the end of the hall, or the world half a mile up. 

“So, it’s connected?” 

“Maybe,” she said. “The Lab, the Upside Down. One always leads back to the other and they both started here.” And it was supposed to be over. The Lab was shut down completely and El closed the Gate. It was supposed to be behind them. They seemed to be the only people who knew the ramifications of toying with something unstable as human experiments and other dimensions, and they had been the only ones to face the repercussions of the aftermaths. 

“I’m sorry,” Robin’s voice rang out as she and Erica turned around to look at the three of them. “Is there something you guys would like to share with the class?” None of them said anything, and luckily, they didn’t have to because Dustin’s walkie muttered from inside his backpack. 

Robin held the walkie close to her ear and repeated the words in English. “A trip to China sounds nice if you tread lightly.” Dustin’s eyes widened and brightened. “Wherever that broadcast is coming from, it’s close. And if there’s one thing we know about that signal…” 

“It can reach the surface!” Dustin gasped. With their small sliver of hope, they hurried down the hall as quickly as their feet could carry them. Sunshine wasn’t sure how long they ran, but eventually, they saw the end of the hall as it emptied out into a larger space. As it grew closer, voices grew louder. Sunshine managed to get to the front of the group, leading them without any idea of what they were heading into. 

A pair of people came into view with their backs to the group. They beelined behind a cluster of crates stacked high that shielded them from their view. Sunshine carefully peeked around the edge of the crate and waited until the pair disappeared around the corner. Once they were out of their sight for a minute or so, they quickly followed them, ducking and weaving to stay as hidden as they could until they came upon a sight she wasn’t sure any of them were expecting. 

The place was swarmed with Russians in military uniforms, speaking in their native tongue with guns slung over their shoulders. Others were dressed in familiar lab coats and held clipboards to their chests. A hand grabbed her arm as she gawked at the buzzing scene, pulling her down with the rest of the group behind another stack of crates. 

Being trapped inside the elevator was one thing, but the underground Russian base was a whole other predicament that exceeded whatever Sunshine had expected. They were five kids now trapped with dozens of foreign military officers and what looked like doctors and or scientists.

“I saw it,” Erica suddenly whispered, squished between Steve and Robin. “The comms room, I saw it.” 

“Are you sure?” Dustin asked. 

“Positive. The door was open for just a second, but I saw a bunch of lights and machines and shit in there.” 

Dustin looked unsure. “That could be a hundred different things.” 

“I’ll take those odds,” Robin said, looking between Sunshine and Steve like she was waiting for their input. 

“Me too,” agreed Sunshine. They couldn’t stay in their current spot without a certain risk of being caught. If they made it to the comms room, there was a chance they could reach someone on the surface who could help them or get help. 

Steve looked back and forth across the distance between them and the room, probably weighing their options before he came to a similar conclusion to Sunshine. “All right,” he agreed too. “We’re going to move fast and stay low.” 

Following Steve’s lead, they managed, by some miracle, to make it across the base and up a couple of steps to what Erica thought was the comms room. The door was on the verge of closing, as two people exited it and turned the opposite way of the group, and Steve grabbed a hold of it before it shut, holding it open so everyone could pile inside. The second Sunshine entered, she was greeted with an alarming sight; the room was still preoccupied. 

At the sound of their labored breathing and footsteps, the man seated at a desk turned around, staring at the group with as much confusion as they held looking at him. His arm moved downwards; his fingers inched toward his belt where a gun was holstered. She instantly shoved Erica and Dustin behind her and moved to do the same to Robin, but the girl bravely stepped forward. She started to recite broken Russian to the man, repeating the code, but he either didn’t understand or didn’t care. He spoke words that none of them knew and made a more obvious attempt to grab his gun. 

Before Sunshine had a chance to ignite the light in her palms, Steve let out a yell and charged straight for the soldier without the slightest hesitation. The man stumbled, taken by surprise just before Steve crashed into him, knocking both of them against the desk. The soldier shoved Steve off with a grunt and swung his fist, but Steve dodged it just before he delivered his own punch into the man’s gut. The soldier roared in anger and pain. He grabbed Steve by the collar of his work uniform and shoved him back into the desk. Steve’s back met it with what sounded like a painful thud. Sunshine readied to intervene, but Steve grabbed a hold of the phone that sat on the desk and swung it hard, bringing it down against the man’s face. The hit was enough to send the soldier down, smacking his head against the corner of the desk and knocking him out cold.

They stood in stunned silence, flickering their stares between the passed-out soldier and a breathless Steve.

Dustin pushed out from behind Sunshine’s outstretched hands and smiled in disbelief. “Dude, you did it! You won a fight!” 

A small smirk formed on Steve’s lips. He wiped a couple of beads of sweat from his face and leaned back against the desk. Sunshine stepped forward, looking Steve over for any injuries. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” he breathed out, looking rather happy with himself. 

Dustin ripped the keycard from the Russian’s belt and held it between his fingers triumphantly. “Now we’ve got a way out of here.” Erica and Dustin quickly began to bicker over their next best course of action, while Steve tried to mediate. Sunshine had noticed Robin slipping away, entranced by a staircase just to the side of the room they were in. An odd glow painted the staircase and Robin approached it with curiosity. Sunshine followed her, in case any more trouble waited at the top, but they were only met with another closed door that held a small window that allowed bright blue light to pour through and spill onto the stairs. 

The glow was more than unnatural. It caused goosebumps to rise on Sunshine’s arms and the hair on the back of her neck to stand on end. She and Robin exchanged a look before she called down to the others. “Guys! There’s something up here!” 

☀☀☀

Steve should have kept a list of every perceptive-shattering thing he had witnessed in his short lifetime so far. Monsters with endless rows of jagged teeth, his childhood best friend returning to him in the very woods she was lost in ten years prior, possession, superpowers, and the list went on and on. And Steve knew about the Gate, the portal-like thing that was a doorway into another freaking dimension- an evil one at that. But seeing it in person, the gigantic rip in the fabric of their universe, was something he couldn’t process, let alone the fact that he was seeing it inside an underground Russian military base that had set up operation underneath the mall he had been working at all summer. It was unreal, impossible even. 

But through two glass panels, they all saw it just past a large control room. A bright beam of blue light was shot through the gaping wound of their world, and the Gate pulsed to life. Steve’s mind couldn’t think of anything other than the fact that it was bad; really, really, really bad. 

“This cannot be happening again,” Sunshine mumbled, stumbling back from the glass with her head in her hands. She wore a similar expression to Steve and Dustin, something filled with a mix of panic and worry as they processed the implications of what the Russians had done, what they could have potentially released. 

“I don’t understand,” Robin said. “You’ve seen this before?” To her and Erica, Hawkins was as normal as any old town in America, but it was anything but that.

“Not exactly,” Steve replied. 

“Then what, exactly?” 

Dustin took off down the stairs and everyone followed suit. “All you need to know is that this is bad. I’m talking end of the human race as we know it kind of bad.”

“And if the Gate has already been opened, it’s safe to assume that something’s already come out it,” Sunshine added. 

Great, Steve thought, more monsters. He was getting really sick and tired of monsters. 

“Yeah, and we know who they’ll go after.” Dustin looked over his shoulder at Sunshine as fear for all of his friends up on the surface flashed across his boyish face. They needed to get the hell out of there, and fast, to warn the others if they didn’t already know. 

When they reached the comms room again, Erica stopped dead in her tracks, eyes wide. “Um, Steve? Where’s your friend?” She pointed to the spot on the floor where the soldier had just been lying, but the man was nowhere to be seen. And as if on cue, an alarm began to blare throughout the base, alerting an entire army that something was wrong; they were what was wrong, and they all stuck out like five sore thumbs. 

Cursing under his breath, Steve cracked the door they entered through and peered outside. A series of soldiers stood not far and in the middle of the group was the man Steve had knocked out. His eyes darted to the cracked door, pointing and yelling in Russian as Steve slammed the door shut. 

“We’ve gotta go!” he yelled as heavy footsteps approached the door, and without wasting another second, they took off and headed back up the stairs. Bathed in blue light, Dustin shoved the door to the control room open, despite it being full of people. They looked a little less threatening in that they weren’t soldiers but rather some kind of Russian scientists or doctors that decided to fuck up Hawkins even more than it already was. But the soldiers were close behind them, and Steve knew they needed to hurry. He spotted another door on the opposite side of the room and ushered the group towards it. 

The door led out onto a platform that sat smack dab in front of the Gate. The drill-like contraption that was being used to keep the Gate open was so loud that it rattled Steve’s bones. It spun quickly, shooting the beam of blue light into the fleshy rip on the wall. 

They were in the worst possible place in the entire lab, standing beside a high-powered weapon that opened something that they had no business messing with. Steve gripped the railing tightly and scanned the area for another quick escape route. Soldiers flooded out of the same door they had left from and rushed toward them just as Steve spotted a ladder a couple of feet away. He led the way, climbing down first to make sure no one was waiting for them at the bottom before he started to help the others down. 

One by one they scrambled down the ladder, ending with Sunshine, who Erica reattached herself to once her feet hit the ground. Steve was even more horrifying aware that they dragged a ten-year-old into the base. If they made it out of there, Mrs. Sinclair was going to have his head, that was for sure. 

They sprinted away from the Gate but were met with another group of soldiers that ran towards them from down a hall. Steve braced himself before he slammed up against a stack of empty barrels that were lined up against the wall, sending them crashing down and obstructing the soldiers' path just slightly, buying the group just enough time to put some distance between them and the men. 

Robin shoved open the first door they came to, which they were lucky enough to find empty. There was nothing inside besides a ventilation system and a couple of mundane-looking control panels. Once they all piled inside, Steve slammed the door shut and pressed his back against it just as fists pounded on the other side. They were grossly outnumbered. Both Sunshine and Robin joined him at the door, trying to prevent the soldiers from entering while Dustin and Erica removed the grate to the vent in the floor that was wide enough for a body to squeeze through. 

Dustin looked expectantly over at the teens as he said, “Come on, let's go!” But none of them moved, they couldn’t. The second any one of them took their weight off the door, the soldiers would enter. There was no way in hell was going to let Dustin and Erica be caught; that was completely out of the question. 

“Just get out of here!” Steve said through gritted teeth, trying to keep his hold on the door as more bodies on the other side beat against it. 

Dustin shook his head. “Come on, you guys! Now! We have to go!” 

Sunshine managed to meet Dustin’s panicked gaze with a soft one like she wasn’t talking to some smart-ass but rather a terrified kid who found himself in yet another terrifying situation. “Dustin, you need to leave. Take Erica and go get us help, okay?” She tried to hold her voice steady, but Steve heard worry slip through its cracks. 

“N-No! Guys-” 

“Dustin, please go!” she pleaded. “I will keep them safe; I promise, I’ll keep them safe. But you have to go and warn the others. Tell Hopper we need help. He’ll know what to do. We will be okay.” 

Dustin hesitated, but by the look on his face, he put his faith in Sunshine. He and Erica climbed down into the vent and disappeared from their view. It was just the three of them left, holding the door as it started to slip from their grasp and crack open. It didn’t take much longer for the people on the other side to overpower the three of them. The force of the soldiers entering knocked Steve and Robin off of their feet, but Sunshine managed to keep herself upright. 

There was a look in her narrowed eyes that Steve recognized almost immediately, knowing what she was about to do. His mouth went dry and any words he wanted to yell left him in a panic. He didn’t even have time to call out her name before more soldiers flooded into the room with their weapons raised. And like a strike of a match, light bloomed to light in Sunshine’s hands, freaking out the soldiers and distracting them just enough for her to attack first. She outstretched her arms as quick flashes of light filled the room, stinging Steve’s eyes. He looked away for only a second, listening to the sound of screams and guns clattering against the concrete floor. Some of the men fell alongside their guns, clutching their hands to their eyes as their faces contorted in pain. 

But there were far too many of them. Steve and Robin were utterly useless, watching from the ground. At the sound of their comrades' screams, more men filed into the room and drastically outnumbered Sunshine in the confined place. Too many bodies moved in a sea of uniforms and Sunshine’s fighting became frantic and uncoordinated as she tried to aim away from Steve and Robin. He knew she didn’t want to hurt them, but she couldn’t do that and fight the soldiers.

Before he knew what was happening, the butt of a gun was slammed down hard against the back of Sunshine’s head. Even in the commotion, he heard the sick ‘crack’ of her skull, met with a scream that tore through Robin’s lips. 

Sunshine hit the ground at his feet, but just out of his reach. 

Steve’s heart leaped into his throat along with a strangled gasp. He couldn’t breathe. He didn’t have his bat or a single thing to fight with. 

Two soldiers reached down and roughly grabbed Sunshine by the arms, hauling her limp figure upwards. Steve found his voice as a gut-wrenching fear drenched him from head to toe. “Let go of her!” he screamed, trying to reach her through the mess of soldiers who all pointed their weapons at him. He didn’t care; all of his focus was on Sunshine as she was dragged away. “Don’t touch her!” Before he could scramble back to his feet, another soldier raised his weapon and brought it down against his head. Black dots swarmed his vision as Robin screamed again. He mumbled Sunshine’s name before the world around him grew dark, and then vanished. 

Tagged (lmk if you'd like to be added :) ) @sattlersquarry , @leptitlu , @drunkengodsofslaughter

[antitheticallyargumentative]

Hi! I would very much love to hear the entire long rant about Ted and Jamie’s relationship!

I love you for indulging me.

A little disclaimer that I in no way hate Ted. I love him. He has good intentions. He's just a flawed human with a lot of his own baggage that hinders him from actually being able to objectively see Jamie's situation for what it is. And that leads to him offering shit advice. He seriously fucked up when it came to Jamie, (in my opinion), even if his heart was in the right place. So here we go.

TW- mentions of mental health issues, canonical suicide, and abuse and trauma

The way I see it, there are several things happening here. 1) Ted sees Jamie as a surrogate son-figure, because he misses his own son and Jamie is a little bit wayward and lacking his own father-figure, and that activates Ted's savior-complex-I-can-fix-him ways. 2) Ted sees Jamie as a little part of himself- his own inner child. The sixteen year old boy who brutally lost his own dad and never worked through the grief. 3) Jamie sees Ted, at least a bit, as a form of father figure, in the way that he both wants his approval and is innately distrustful of him. (Mind games.)

The problem then lies in the fact that Jamie is not truly either of these things that Ted sees him as, and Ted cannot be a healthy male figure for Jamie because he has too much of his own shit to work through, first. And Jamie also has his own.

I think that, at his core, Jamie wants to be a good person. His time at Richmond has seen him growing into one, and in his head I think he at least partially equates that to Ted's influence. So he wants to stay in Ted's good graces, because like he's said he never got a lot of support from older male figures, and that's clearly something he craves. He wants Ted's approval, but there's also the fact that Ted has left him during confrontations with his dad twice, and in Jamie's eyes, sent him away to Manchester City right after he started trying. Need for approval paired with feeling like he's walking a very fragile line and can't quite trust anything about his relationship with Ted to stay safe.

Ted holds onto a desperate need to fix things. When you see someone hurt themselves, or lose them to mental illness, it's traumatic. It makes you wonder if you could have, should have, done more. Seen it coming. If you could have stopped it. Ted said to Dr. Sharon that “I wasn’t ever gonna let anyone get by me without understanding that they might be hurting inside.” So now he walks through life trying to make sure everybody stays OK, except for himself. And you can't do that. It's not healthy. So when he sees Jamie, this twenty-something-year-old kid with a fucked up relationship with his dad, Ted can't see it clearly. He's so caught up in his own father-related trauma that he projects that onto Jamie. He gives Jamie the advice that he means for himself. Ted needs to forgive his father, so that he can process the grief and the trauma and move forward. Ted needs to give that to himself. But that is incredibly dangerous advice to give someone who's father is clearly shown to be emotionally and physically abusive.

Ted and Jamie both have a lot of father-related trauma. But their situations are not at all applicable to each other, it's just that Ted can't see that because he hasn't worked through any of his own issues. Which leads to complicated relationships and shitty, dangerous advice. There we go.

Woo! That was long.

[triplexdoublex]

technically yes nobody can save you but I agree that hearing your fav saying that they’ve been through the same stuff that u have is very comforting especially when dealing with mental illness cause it can be a very isolating experience. But it is your choice and decision to get better, your fav person can show u that they also went to therapy and how it has helped them and that can influence you to go and try it out but that’s still up to u. With Kells I think he’s struggling a lot even if he tries not to show it to not worry us that much, and from what I’ve seen I don’t think he feels deserving of our love and devotion to him or that his mind wants to believe that we will turn on him and he’ll end up alone as he was most of his life. The line “who am I when the music stops” imo kind of shows that he’s scared all the love and support will leave when he’s not singing no more, and that maybe everyone who hated will come out in support of him only when he’s dead, cause that’s what’s happened to a lot of artists who have passed (like he mentioned in his line “thinkin maybe the hate’ll finally go away if I’m not alive”). He definitely knows we love him through the support we give him on music and project but I think he’s scared to even through music really be honest with us cause he’ll be scrutinised for it. He’s got so many eyes on him now and I think he’s scared to lose the fame and publicity he so badly wanted for so long. I believe with “don’t let me go” he even said that it was a song he usually wouldn’t put out if he had more time to sit on it or something. and I think that’s why he’s also holding onto Megan. She helped him get the fame he worked so hard for years to get, he finally got the recognition that he so badly fought for and I think if he loses her he's afraid he’ll also lose that part of fame and the awards and such, not saying he didn’t get awards before Megan but she definitely helped him get to another level of fame and publicity. And I think if he loses Megan he’ll be made fun of in the media. At the start everyone was so out of their minds on how a guy like him could get the world loved hottie Megan Fox and if it comes out saying that they aren’t together anymore, even tho all the people who saw the relationship as toxic or weird will be happy, he’ll still be laughed at for managing to lose the “most beautiful women”. Like they made fun of him after the em disses, he’ll also be made fun of if he loses Megan.

TW// Suicide ideation

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Yes technically you’re saving yourself by making the decisions needed to better your mental health but sometimes you need that spark of hope to get you started and kells is that spark for a lot of people. I’ve had many sparks along my mental health journey one of them actually being song lyrics from the song “Self Conclusion” by The Spill Canvas. I was driving home from work thinking about ending it all, I already knew how I was gonna do it — I had recently had my wisdom teeth removed and this was back when they would give you prescription pain meds for literally anything (which is how how the opioid crisis started) They gave me Percocet even though I said that I didn’t want them because I was afraid of getting addicted (addiction runs in my family) He insisted I would NEED them. But I didn’t they sat in my cabinet full and unused, and I was planning to take the bottle. I had just pulled into my driveway when the song started playing , a song I’d heard a million times before but the lyrics “we all flirt with the tiniest notion of self conclusion in one simplified motion, the trick is your never supposed to act on it, no matter how unbearable this misery gets” hit different in that moment and felt like a sign to me to stay and get help. I sat in the car and sobbed for what felt like fovever , then went inside and got rid of the pills. And did start therapy shortly after. Yearsss later when I met the lead singer I thanked him for SAVING me! Of course I was the one who decided not to go through with it and to start going to therapy , but what if I never heard that song at the exact moment I needed it , would I even be here having this conversation… there’s a good chance I wouldn’t. So yes I believe I was saved by their music!

Kells definitely gets a lot underserved hate , he has shared many times that he worries about not being appreciated until his dead. Another lyric that comes to mind is “everybody hates, but can anybody love me, guess they’ll wait until my face is on the mural” i think he finally did get a little taste of being taken more seriously when Tickets to my downfall and Mainstream sellout both went number one and her acquired a bunch of new fans . But it must be so hard to know that pretty much everyone outside of the fanbase hates him.

I don’t believe Megan helped kells to rise to fame , if anything he boosted her non existent acting career ( when was the last time you heard about Megan Fox before they got together … maybe 2007ish ) Kells gained more fame for revitalizing the pop-punk scene, but I do agree that he will be dragged for ‘loosing Megan’ I’ve already seen evidence of it in social media comments

[autobot-ratchet]

Preface + Death of Optimus Prime

Alright. So it's been a few years since I've looked at transformers comics and I wanna do a re-read. I am a different person than I was when these comics were first being released and I wanna go back and look at them again with all my cool and epic literary analysis skills and newfound confidence in said skills. Truth be told, a lot of this is gonna be shit I already thought even way back in the 2010s but was too nervous to voice it because the fandom was god awful lmAO

I've made posts about it before, but the transformers fandom specifically (and the IDW transformers comic fandom even more specifically) is the one that hurt me the most. I was right at the beginning of my “social justice journey” if you wanna call it that, I had just started to realize that a lot of things I never questioned and thought were normal were, in fact, hurting people, and was highly interested in learning (or in some cases unlearning) as much as I could to stop myself from hurting/alienating the people around me. I cared very much about not being a bigot of any kind, even accidentally.

MTMTE was a comic that was also interested in much the same, depicting all kinds of people (namely gay folks, trans folks, folks with mental illnesses, etc) without being a thoughtless shithead about it. So naturally, this attracted the most obnoxious discourse you can possibly imagine lmAO All these marginalized people saw themselves being treated respectfully in a piece of media they liked and felt the need to either protect that or tear it down for not being good enough in their eyes. And the way they did that was by writing long posts detailing their interpretations of characters/story lines, stating them as the one true interpretation, and declaring that anyone who disagrees is disagreeing out of bigotry against them specifically. IE, “This character is [minority] because I am [same minority] and I see a lot of myself in them so if you don't like this character or don't think I'm right about them that means you don't like me and therefore you are a bigot who hates me for being [minority].”

To give an even more specific example, a take I saw incredibly often was “Starscream is an abuse victim whose bad behavior is the direct result of his abuse at the hands of Megatron because I would also like to betray and/or kill my abuser so if you don't absolve Starscream of everything he's ever done or god forbid you commit the crime of liking Megatron, you are an abuse apologist and you think I deserved it.” Nowadays, I can recognize that take as complete horseshit and the OP wildly projecting onto Starscream, but back in the 2010s, I had no idea how much of what I thought was normal was secretly bigotry that had just been normalized, so I took shit like that seriously. I figured, “Well, they ARE that so if they see that in the character, it must be the truth. How would I know that kind of thing? I'm only just realizing that I don't actually know anything! So I should listen to people when they say things like this.”

And the more posts I found telling me what I'm meant to think about the way the comics were written, the stupider I felt because when I read the same comics, I did not pick up on any of the problematic elements they were talking about. Again, I now know it's because they were projecting hardcore and were making up their own versions of the characters, but back then I truly thought I was the stupidest human being alive because they HAD to be right. They talk about social justice all the time, so they must be way more knowledgeable than me and my inability to pick up on the same things they do is a personal failing on my part. Even when it got to the point where they got so wrapped up in their own delusions that I was like “Hang on now, I don't know about all that,” I was still too scared to even voice my own opinions in my own space because I didn't want to get hit with the “bigot/apologist” label and get dogpiled by a bunch of strangers trying to enact justice upon me. If even one spiteful person looking for easy clout found me, it would've happened. It still COULD happen, shit, it's even worse nowadays.

It genuinely fucked up my self esteem for a long time. When the comic inevitably failed to be pure and good enough to be acceptable to like (read: deviated enough from peoples' headcanons that they felt betrayed that canon was not the same as what they wanted to happen), I felt like an idiot at best for continuing to like it and a horrible person at worst for continuing to support such problematic content. And that sucks! It sucks that my naivety and willingness to listen was taken advantage of for some fucking internet brownie points! And part of me will never forgive the transformers fandom for that!

If we're being honest, all fandoms were starting to go down the discourse shitter so that was gonna happen to me no matter what, but for me, it was transformers comics bullshit that fucked me up so here we are. I am now going to re-read these comics and write down my unfiltered thoughts and feelings and anyone who wants to fuck with me can die.

Death of Optimus Prime

damn we really start this shit with Optimus being like “aw fuck I'm still alive” after having done a heroic sacrifice

Optimus called the Circle of Light a cult, which I guess I could understand what with it being so insular but damn dude, harsh, it ain't quite all that

oh lord the Cybertronian politics is making me have fandom war flashbacks lmfAO and especially now that I'm older and have experienced a lot more political fuck shit, no wonder Certain Parts of this fandom were fucking insufferable, people literally tied their actual personal politics to these fictional characters, I cannot fucking imagine what it would've been like if this came out in today's fandom climate, christ

so from the perspective of everyone else in the series, Drift was one of the most terrible Decepticon warriors to ever live, then he got indoctrinated into (what they believe is) a cult, then he just kind of accidentally became a wrecker and thus an Autobot. Damn, no wonder no one really talks to him lmfAO he is 31 flavors of freak and they don't even know where to start with him even if they can get over the Decepticon thing. Absolutely hysterical that he turns out to be completely correct about the Knights of Cybertron

it is actually so funny how done Optimus is with all this shit he just dumps the matrix halves into Bee and Roddy's hands and fucks right off, no words, good fuckity bye

[whereyoustand]

I dont disagree with everything in this post, but for me, the difference is the fact the way things were handled and how they are mending their mistakes whilst their children are still kids rather then waiting until they're confronted when they're older.

maddie trying to take her own life due to post-partum depression and leaving for recovery is not the same as the Buckley parents actively ignoring their other child who had to hurt himself to gain their attention. of course, the Buckley parents were allowed to grieve but at the expense of their other son? that's where the line is drawn. a lot of responsibility fell onto Maddie shoulders ("I used to give you baths", "jee wasn't the first kid you raised, that was me") because of their grief and I think Hen summed it up pretty well when she said "Daniel wasn't their only son, you matter too Buck".

The reason Maddie's post-partum is different is because she left to protect Jee-Yun whereas the Buckley Parents neglected Buck to protect themselves. Had Maddie have stayed, she likely would've become a neglectful parent due to her depression but she had a moment of clarity after she got into the ocean that she wasn't going to allow her depression (her grief) take over.

Leaving to get help for mental illness is not the same as neglecting a child due to grief.

I won't get into Eddie's Complexities because its midnight for me and I felt like Maddie was an easier one to explain. And I didn't even know people had a problem with Toni so 🤷🏼. I don't think people are always projecting their own relationships, but as someone with an emotionally absent dad (I mean, the man cancelled on my uni graduation like cmon dude 😭), its so frustrating to see parents in media constantly being forgiven with a mid storyline or off-camera chat (not just 911 but other shows as well). also, most of the 911 parents are confronted when their child is an adult and have kids on their own - whereas the character are very clearly learning from their actions as soon as they recognise them.

doing your best ≠ doing it right

Idk maybe I'm crazy but if I was involved in a bombing or my abusive husband tried to kill me, I would never forgive my parents for not showing up to the hospital.

(Also, everyone is allowed to project onto the characters all they want as long as they're not hateful about it. People are going to favour the main cast more than the reoccurring roles because we know more about them. fans are sometimes using fanfiction, and posting fanmade content is an outlet for how they feel about their parents/lives or how they simply interpreted the media theyre consuming. in a way, your post is projecting how you feel about 911 characters in reflection of your own parents - your own parents from the 60s/70s was trying their best so you can see that reflected in the 911 parents. Our own environment will change how we feel about different things, especially media interpretation. that doesn't make anyone's opinions wrong or right. It just makes them different.)

people don't always have to forgive to move on, sometimes you can just accept and move forward.

Real Talk: How is Maddie abandoning Jee-Yun for several months while dealing with her mental health and post-partum depression any different than Margaret and Phillip Buckley neglecting their kids due to the overwhelming grief and shame they faced losing their oldest son, Daniel? Also, how is Eddie abandoning his wife and son under the guise of serving another tour of duty in Afghanistan (which he did on purpose) and then inflicting even more trauma on his son by dating a woman who looked exactly like his son's dead mother any different than the emotional and possibly physical abuse he suffered while being raised by Ramon Diaz? And yes, as much as I love Hen, she nearly blew up her family unit when she decided to have an extra-marital affair were her ex, Eva, after the latter was released from prison any different that Hen's fraught relationship with her single mother Toni Wilson? Maybe it's because I'm older and I've done a lot of work in therapy to navigate my own childhood traumas but I find it so frustrating how hypocritcal the 9-1-1 fandom is when it comes to the main characters' parents. So many of us are willing to forgive Maddie and Eddie and Hen for their past actions while indefinitely condemning their parents. Having talked to my mother who was raised in the 60s and 70s, she told me that parents from that generation simply were doing their best and going off of what their parents did raising them. Thankfully starting with Gen X, a lot of problematic parenting behaviors are being left behind which means hopefully we have more well-adjusted kids being raised. However, old habits die hard and while I don't agree with a lot of the parents past behavior on this show, I am able to give them grace. A lot of you have difficulty separating your own personal trauma from the trauma of the fictional characters you watch every week on primetime. Some of you go as far as saying Buck and Maddie shouldn't forgive or talk to their parents. Same with Eddie. Same with Athena and her mom. What you fail to realize that all of the characters on this show are grown-ass men and women and speaking from someone who is about to step into their 5th decade of life, sometimes, for you your own mental health and well-being, you have to let go of the pain and acknowledge that your parents are human and humans are extremely flawed. Sometimes you have to forgive to achieve peace in your own life. A lot of you see forgiveness as something you give the person who hurt you but when you get older, at least for me, you realize that forgiveness is for you. You will never forget but forgiveness allows you to move out of that vicious cycle of pain and resentment so that hopefully you don't poison the other important relationships in your life.

In conclusion, I'm not saying you have to like Phillip or Margaret Buckley or Toni Wilson or Beatrice Carter. What I'm saying is, if the characters on this show have chosen forgiveness for past actions so they can heal and have a more peaceful existence, what business is that is yours? Lastly, let's stop projecting our needs, our wants, and desires onto the characters we watch on TV or see in the movies. Representation is important but neither Tim Minear nor any other TV or film writer is required to write stories that reflect who the viewers are.

[plaidpyjamas]

local fool has startling number of coincidences happen while making two new selfship oc's, more at 11

[battlekidx2]

Thoughts on Arcane

Okay the hype for this show is spot on. This show is amazing. I went in only knowing that it’s about two sisters who end up fighting on opposite sides of a conflict and I’m happy I went in with limited knowledge because it didn’t play out at all how I expected. When I first started watching the show I thought that Vi was the one who was gonna be radicalized against the topsiders but once the end of episode two hit and episode three played out it completely flipped that thought on its head and I realized I was dead wrong. 

Vi is such a fantastic character and is my favorite character in the series. That’s not a disservice to any of the other fantastic characters instead it is a testament to how well written Vi is. I think Vi’s character and arc are summed up in what Vander told her in episode three “You’ve got a good heart. Don’t lose it. No matter how the world tries to break you.”. Vi is a good person who has been hardened through hardships just like many residents from the undercity. Vi has every reason in the world to be bitter and she has every reason in the world to just give up but she keeps getting back up. Her struggle made me legitimately emotional. This show really gets oldest child syndrome. I am also the oldest child in my family and I’ve felt what Vi felt when it came to Powder and I’ve felt what she felt when she was forced to watch Powder become Jinx. I think she’s a fantastic deuteragonist of Arcane. (Also Vi is just a complete badass.)

Powder’s descent into Jinx is also masterfully done. I don’t know if I’ve seen an animated show tackle how untreated trauma and mental illness can radically change a person and lead to their descent even half as well as arcane did with Jinx. Powder is by nature a kind and caring person but the world succeeded at breaking who she was and creating a much more cruel person in her place. This is kind of a fine line to tread because you could villainize mental illness but I think arcane makes it clear that it wasn’t only the mental illness that lead to Jinx but the negative influences in her life. Silco legitimately cares for Jinx but he projects his own problems onto her however unintentionally and neglects to actually treat her by regurgitating the belief that suffering has made her a stronger person. I think this is more of a warning for these toxic lines of thought that make it so that people have trouble asking for help and stew until a breaking point is reached. It’s a very fascinating take on the character and I am so excited to see where the show takes her.

I also wasn’t expecting Ekko to be the leader of the firelights but I loved the reveal. Ekko’s fight with Jinx was also fantastic. Having the show switch between the past Ekko and Powder and the present Ekko and Jinx was a fantastic divide to draw for the audience. The excitement and innocence in the past was perfectly contrasted between the brutality and tragedy of the present. And when Ekko hesitated you understood why. Just like Vi he can’t let go of the Powder that he knew despite how much he liked to claim the contrary. (The fights in this show were fantastic. I also loved Vi vs Sevika.)

The one part I thought was iffy was Jayce’s part of the story. Too often I found he was the least interesting character in his own story. Viktor far outshone him, in my opinion, with his arc and struggles. I often found that I much prefered when Jayce was playing off of someone than when he was alone. Viktor, Caitlyn, and Mel all had more presence to them and more interesting stories. I think this is because he isn’t really his own driving force when it comes to motivation. He is manipulated or convinced by just about everyone around him about what he is going to do next. Viktor was the one who fixed his research and pushed him to continue working on the crystals which kicked off hextech, Mel was the one who made him a councilor, Heimerdinger was the one who gave him the progress day speech, Vi was the one who convinced him to go after Silco, etc. I found myself wishing that we could cut down his screen time to show more of Viktor, Mel, and Caitlyn. This is my opinion so if you liked him all the better for you. I always like when people can enjoy things that I couldn’t (media wise).

I have a lot more thoughts but these are the ones I’d like to get out for now. There is so much to this show that I am definitely going to rewatch it as soon as I can and most likely write more about it.

[belphies-cuhm-sluht]

Time For Bed (Lucifer x GN!Reader) FLUFF

Random Lucifer fluff! I write about going to sleep way too much considering I barely get any sleep myself. Holy shit I think I'm projecting onto the characters. WHOOPS!

Anywhooooo

Word Count : 1.7K

Warnings : Nothing. Just fluff and soft tired Lucifer

How long had you been laying in bed waiting for him to come up to see you? A few minutes? Hours? You turned to look at the clock on the nightstand, rolling your eyes as another minute ticked by. “Dammit, Lucifer…” You groaned, kicking the blankets off as you got out of the bed. He was probably still working on some shit that Lord Diavolo had made him do, or he was passed out at his desk. Either way, he was overworking himself and you hated that he did it so often. There wasn’t a moment that the two of you could be alone, whether he was working in his office or dealing with his brothers, there was never a time where you could actually be together.

“Lucifer…” You mumbled his name as you tapped your knuckles against the wooden door of his office, letting your head rest against it as you waited for him to respond. You weren’t even tired when you had gone up to the room, but just waiting for him made you sleepy, and the thought of how much work he had to do made you exhausted. You could only imagine how he felt having to actually do it, and he deserved a break, or at least a comfortable bed to actually fall asleep in. “Come up to bed, please.” Your hand slid down the door and landed on the doorknob, still waiting for him to answer, or literally say anything or even mumble… just a noise.

“Work… have to work…” He grumbled from behind the door and you could hear the lack of emotion in his voice. The man was beyond tired, beyond exhausted, and he was still pushing himself to keep going. It wasn’t okay, and if you weren’t terrified of the repercussions, you’d have a word with Diavolo about making Lucifer do his work for him. “Go to bed, dear… I’ll be up soon…” Which you knew was bullshit. It was already two in the morning, and he woke up early too, the least he could do is try to get a little bit of sleep and rest his head on an actual pillow instead of a stack of papers.

You sighed loudly outside the door, mentally telling yourself that you wouldn’t leave without him. He wouldn’t leave the office though, not with you standing outside of the door, so you quickly pushed it open, crossing your arms as you finally took in the sight of him. His hair was disheveled and his eyelids were heavy. You could only imagine how many cups of coffee he had drank to stay up this late, and even though you knew nothing could actually happen to him, you still didn’t want him to get ill. “You can’t keep staying up like this. It’s not good for you.” You shut the door behind you before going over to his desk, shaking your head when you saw the full cup of black coffee right next to him. “You need sleep, Lucifer.”

He hummed quietly, but never dropped the pen from his fingers, scribbling across the papers in front of him and you weren’t even sure if he was actually writing legibly or if he was just making little squiggle lines at this point. Nothing made what he was doing worth it, and you weren’t just going to leave the office, not without him. You walked around the desk, grabbing his arm and giving it a light tug to try to get his attention. “Hmph… You don’t need to watch me. I’ll be up when I can.” He pulled his arm away, rolling his shoulders before going back to working on the paper in front of him.

“I’ll just stay here until you’re done, then.” You huffed loudly as you walked back around to one of the arm chairs across from his desk, flopping down in it and crossing your arms across your chest. Were you tired? Yes, but if he wasn’t going to get to bed, you weren’t either. It didn’t make any sense in the long run, and by the end of all of this, you’d both be exhausted because he was too prideful to say that you were right and actually leave, and you were too persistent to just give it up and let it go.

He finally looked up from his desk, tsking his tongue and staring at you as he leaned back in his chair. “You’re being ridiculous. What is both of us losing sleep going to do?” You weren’t actually sure what the answer to that question is because honestly, you both were just going to be extra tired by morning, and you knew that he already knew that, so there was no point in you saying it. So you shrugged, giving him a little smirk as if you knew something that he didn’t about your miraculous plan to pull an all-nighter with him, but he wasn’t a fool, and he wasn’t going to fall for whatever it was that you were doing. “Is there an actual reason that you need me right now?”

There were a lot of reasons you felt like you needed him right now, some of them didn’t actually include using the bed for its intended purpose, but you still needed him in the bed to do what you were thinking. The other reason was… well… you missed him. You missed being able to curl up into his chest and cocoon he and yourself in his blankets as you both dozed off. It seemed like it had been forever since you had done something like that with him, just having an intimate moment together in private, in silence. You were able to just enjoy… him… and being with him. It might not have been a lot to him, but it meant a lot to you. “I can’t sleep…” It wasn’t lying, because in a sense, you did find it harder to fall asleep without him in the bed with you, but it was also partially because you stayed up waiting for him every night even though he told you to get some sleep before he came up because it would be a while.

He let out a small chuckle, pushing his chair away from the desk as he got up, shaking his head. “You made this whole thing about me when it was you who couldn’t sleep. I think I have something for that…” Your eyes narrowed as you watched him walk to the bookshelf that lined the wall. What was he going to do? Was there a spell that would knock you out, or did he have a secret bottle of Z-Quil hidden in the pages of one of his books? That wasn’t the main thing though, what you couldn’t stop thinking about was how absolutely clueless he was, or at least, pretended to be. How could he not piece everything that you had said together? Maybe his brain was fried from working so much that he was unable to pick up the hints that you were dropping.

With a loud sigh, you got up from your own seat and walked over to him, grabbing his hand as he reached for a book. “I can’t sleep because you’re not there…” You didn’t actually want to put it so bluntly, it was kind of embarrassing to admit things like that, especially to him. You watched his face, waiting for his reaction, and as you watched him you could have sworn that you saw his cheeks turn a light shade of pink. His hand dropped as he turned to look at you completely, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. It wasn’t the usual smile you’d receive for something like this, usually he’d be smug and smirk at you while giving a witty, subtle remark about how he knows just the way to help get you to sleep. This time was different though, and it was most likely due to him being so tired.

“What kind of demon would I be to deny my darling a good night's sleep?” The question kind of threw you off because in terms of demons… he’d be a pretty good one to make you not have a good night’s sleep, but you knew what he meant and you didn’t want to ruin the moment by being a smartass. His hands moved to your hips, pulling you lightly to bring you closer to him as he leaned in to rest his forehead against your own. “Let’s get some sleep. I guess we both need it.” You hummed quietly in response, and once his hands were dropped you reached out to grab one of his to lead him out of the office. If you turned your back on him and started walking by yourself, he’d probably go back to his desk and continue working, and you weren’t going to let that happen.

Both of your movements were slow, your feet practically dragged across the floor as you walked up the stairs to his room. The fact that neither of you fell or tripped up the stairs or ran into anything is shocking considering both of you could barely keep your eyes open. By the time you were in the room all you wanted to do was fall into the bed with him, cover up, and pass out. “Are you gonna-” You hadn’t had time to finish your question, which probably didn’t matter at the moment, but you knew it would be uncomfortable for him to fall asleep in what he was wearing, but apparently he didn’t care, or he was just too tired to care right then.

He fell face first onto the bed, burying his face in the pillow. It didn’t take long for the soft sound of snoring to fill the room, and the sound of it made you smile to yourself. He was finally getting some decent sleep, and if anyone deserved it, it was him. You climbed into the bed next to him, pulling the covers up around you as your eyes started to fully close. You’d both get a good night’s sleep together, and that’s all you really wanted.

[thefanficmonster]

You Call It A Mess, We Call It Baking

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Tons of fluff

Summary: A friendly argument via Discord leads to a baking session. Said baking session leads to a kitchen looking like it was the victim of a tornado. The lesson here is: don’t leave Corpse and Y/N in the kitchen together.

Requested by Anon, thank you so much for your request, hope I captured what you wanted well and I hope you enjoy reading it.

Corpse’s POV

I’ve been sitting in a Discord call with Y/N for about three years now, keeping her company as she’s editing some footage Sean sent her earlier. In the meantime, I’m reviewing the recently submitted stories by my viewers, reading some lines I find funny or downright terrifying to her.

“When I went in the kitchen to check on the cake, it was already out of the oven, a sticky note next to it on the counter that read: ‘smells nice’. My blood ran cold.“ I read the eerie sentence that is suggesting one of my most frightening scenarios - a stalker getting inside your house. I get chills just imagining what was probably going on in the sender’s head when they saw that.

“Jeez, it’s been so long since I’ve cooked something other than omelet.“ I hear Y/N reply absentmindedly, completely neglecting the fear factor of what’s going on in the story.

“Good job missing the point.” I chuckle, my eyes continuing to scan the email until my brain actually comprehends what she said, “Wait, you mean to tell me you have baked anything ever?! No offense, Y/N, but I was honestly doubting your ability to make an omelet as well. In all the years we’ve been friends I can’t remember you ever not saying ‘I hade takeout’ when I asked you what you had for dinner.” 

The scoff that comes through my headphones is the most adorable thing ever. She’s one to easily take a joke and never get offended by anything, but I know how heated she can get with her sarcasm. If I’m being honest, I’m always here for it. 

“There are many things you don’t know about me, Corpsy. A girl’s gotta have some aces up her sleeve.“ I can just imagine the narrowing of here eyes and the tilting of her head as she says that. She has a very specific way of expressing her thoughts. When we first met I accidentally made the comparison to one of those children’s books that have pictures, stories and small buttons for audio. That comparison has stuck with me and I look back at it very often. To fully catch her point, you don’t just listen to her. No, no, no. You focus on every change in her face and body. The way she looks away during certain parts of her speech, the way her voice plays with several different tones at once. Her posture while speaking. Just like those books - you don’t just listen to the audio, you look at the pictures and read the text.

“Well you know how much I like playing poker, why don’t you come over and throw those aces down.“ The last thing you should ever give Y/N is a challenge. She won’t only homerun it, but will never let you forget it either. When we met she was a girl with self esteem in the negatives, so seeing her brag about her achievements to me always brings me joy.

The details I’ve listed are pretty in-depth, aren’t they? That’s because I don’t want to let anything slip when it comes to her. This realization hit me early in our friendship and it was only like two years in that I finally connected the dots - this investment in her of mine was not simple nor platonic. Come to think of it, I reckon it never was.

“No way, I’m not changing out of my pajamas just to come to your house.” She laughs, once again making me picture her full body reaction to her statement.

I smirk, knowing I’m about to bring out my main weapon, “Oh come on, I’ve seen you in pajamas countless times. You can just admit you don’t wanna embarrass yourself. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

I can sense her fuming even though she’s like two miles away. “I’ll be there in 15.”

She hangs up before getting the chance to hear me lose control of the laughter I’ve been suppressing. 

Man, I love this girl.

Y/N’s POV 

“It’s on.“ I say as soon as the door in front of me swings open to reveal the smug smirking face of my bestfriend. The foundation of my tough, unbothered act is shaken up by the outburst of butterflies in my stomach which occurs every time I see him. I can never look at this man and not turn at least a little red in the cheeks. 

It’s been long since I self-diagnosed with the malicious ‘falling for someone who would never reciprocate my feelings’ illness. I’ve been living with it for a while. What medication do I take? Dating other guys. One bad relationship after another, scolding myself that every one of them has been a desperate attempt to get him to change his gaze on me from ‘best friend’ to something more. Hell, I don’t even know how to define that ‘something more’. I once even tried to admit my feelings, but I was so vague and so incoherent that I didn’t understand myself, so how was he supposed to grasp my downright sad excuse of a confession. 

“No ‘hello’, no nothing?“ He moves aside to let me in. I walk right past him with a sassy flip of my hair to mask the nervousness of being aware that his eyes were on me, “Rude.“ He murmured with an obvious smile in his tone.

He looks as cute as ever, black sweatpants and a black tee, hair messy as though he has just rolled out of bed. I can say with the upmost certainty that he’s the only one who can pull of that hairstyle.

I hide mine as I throw on the apron that’s hanging by his fridge, ready to take over his kitchen and put those aces of mine to use. I can’t help but furrow my brows when I see him enter the kitchen behind me and lean against the counter. That’s when I notice the counter is lined with all the ingredients I’ll need for the cake I had in mind. 

“OK, what do we do first?“ he claps his hands together, straightening his posture as he gives me a expectant look.

It takes all my brain cells to prevent me from freezing up completely. I’m not usually like this, mind you, I’m a lot better at keeping what’s going on inside my head camouflaged. I don’t know what’s happening to me, but I don’t have much time to dwell on that. If I do, he’ll pick up on it right away.

“Um, we are not gonna do anything. I will be here baking, and you will remain outside the kitchen until I’m done. If you need something, ask and I’ll bring it to you. I can’t have you sabotaging my project, impostor.” I narrow my eyes at him like he’s the most dangerous of threats. And he is, for my mental sanity.

He fakes a hurt expression, clearly fighting to the best of his ability to hide how much he’s enjoying messing with me. “We’ve known each other for five years, Y/N. Don’t you trust me?”

I lean over the counter to where we’re about two feet apart and whisper, “Not. Even. A. Little. Bit.”

He smiles, “You’re just trying to get away with making this cake by watching a YouTube tutorial. Admit it, you can’t even crack an egg properly.” His eyes are now as narrowed as mine as we stare each other down at a proximity that’s rapidly raising my body temperature and heartbeat. It’s not fair. I’m a mess around him so he automatically has the upper hand.

As expected, I give in, “You better not mess around though.”

After I force him to give me several different oaths, we start. I’m working on the batter, he’s working on the frosting. We decided to decorate it with crimson and dark purple frosting. We’re both really pick about the color shades so he’s currently struggling to get the crimson perfect. 

“Let’s make it a layer cake.“ He suggests out of the blue, “Two layers, nothing crazy.“

I think it over for a moment or two before shrugging, “OK, but then you better grab a bowl and help me with the second layer. You know how to make the batter, right?”

He confirms that he does and walks out of my line of sight. I hear him open the fridge as I whisk the eggs I have cracked with the sugar. 

“You want something to drink?“ He asks while rummaging through the fridge.

I decline, try to focus on the recipe that I have somehow memorized to the smallest of details. As I’m reciting the it silently to make sure I didn’t skip any steps with the batter, I feel something cold run down my back causing me to scream.

“What the fuck was that?!“ I turn around and glare at him just as the ice cube slips out from under my hoodie and falls to the floor. The fucker’s laughing whole heartedly, not giving a damn that he just gave me a mini heart attack. Mainly cause I thought it was a roach or something, and he know I hate bugs.

“You do realize how boiling red you are, right? You look like a lobster. I thought you needed something to cool you down.“

Instead of being annoyed, I do a full 180 and decide to play his game, “Yeah, I know...” I trail off, reaching my hand back towards the bowl of flour. Grabbing a a handful of the white powder I throw it at him before he can even catch on. Needless, to say, his outfit and hair aren’t so black anymore. “Ah, I knew your hair would look good with snowflakes in it, but you can never be too sure.”

“This means war, Y/N.” His smile is borderline malicious, getting me excited for what’s to come. 

Him and I have always had these so called wars, but never like you’d imagine. We are silent, strategic, subtle. Neither of us knows when the other will attack until it’s too late. That’s why instead of going for a counter-attack right away, he heads to complete his mission of making the batter for the second layer.

All is quiet except the noises of the utensils clinking together every now and then. I keep a close watch on him out of the corner of my eye and I notice no sus behavior. That is until I see him take a spoonful of his batter and eat it. I whirl around at the speed of a gust of wind, eyes wide, “Do you want to fuck up your guts.” He ignores me as he takes another spoonful, bringing it close to his mouth. This time, I grab onto his arm causing the contents of the spoon to spill on my hoodie.

I roll my eyes, unbothered by the brown stain that by some miracle missed the apron and fell on my grey hoodie, “Don’t. Eat. The. Batter. Copy?“

“Paste.“ He nods, smirking with pride as he puts the spoon aside.

I sigh and return to my side of the kitchen, focusing on the next task: poring the batter into the circular baking tray which he, for some reason, has two of. He repeats the task soon after me and we put the two trays in the oven. I help him with the frosting, getting the shades close enough to what we had in mind. 

After about five minutes of the crusts baking, a wonderful smell spreads throughout the kitchen. At this point, all we have to do is wait for the oven to signal that our cinnamon crust is ready to be taken out, wait for it to cool down and then frost the cake.

“It smells really good.“ He comments, turning his head to look at me.

I’m sitting atop the kitchen counter and Corpse is standing next to me. This is the only time him and I are at approximately the same height. The realization brings a thought to my mind, one that makes me feel like an evil mastermind.

“Hey, remember earlier when you said I couldn’t crack an egg properly?“ He hums affirmatively, “Well...“

The carton of eggs is within arm’s reach. I grab an egg, chip it off the side of the counter and crack it apart above his head, its contents coating his hair. “How’s that for a proper egg crack?” I ask victoriously.

He lets out a surprised sound, something between a gasp and a laugh. Shaking his head to get the yoke to fall down, he says amusedly: “I don’t know...you tell me.”

Too late for me to do anything. There’s milk all over me.

The malicious smile on his face is replicated on mine and now it’s really on. However, as we reach for the items meant to be out weapons, the oven dings.

Frosting the cake goes about as well as you expect: there’s more frosting on us than the cake itself.

“Let’s make amends, please. I’m so not looking forward to taking three showers tonight.“ I say, raising a white napkin and waving it around.

“Fair enough.“ He shrugs and we shake hands.

As I’m about to pull my hand back, he holds onto it, making me look up at him. Our eyes lock and I suddenly regain that same shakiness and vulnerability I always have around him. It never leaves me, I just manage to ignore it. The sound of my panic is muffled by the sound of my heart thumping the loudest it has ever. 

Expectedly, he is the bold one who makes the first and final move. The move to end one era of us and start another. His lips touch mine and all fades. It’s just him and I. The friends who were never just friends. The cowards who suck at dealing with emotions. The fearful little kids that are afraid of rejection because we both mean so much to each other, to the point of suffering to prevent the possibility of losing one another.

We embrace who we are, finally admitting that friends is not what we are meant to remain forever.

The kiss might’ve been brief, but the meaning it carries makes it the most valuable moment of my life. One I’ll cherish forever. Something in his eyes tells me he will too. That’s all I need. That’s all we need. No words are necessary.

Suddenly, our bubble bursts as a result of his ringing phone. He lets go of one of my hands and takes his phone from the counter.

“It’s Dave”, he smiles, picking up the call and turning to get me in the camera frame. “Hey Dave, look who’s here with me.“

I wave at the camera and at the baffled face of Dave. “Hi!”

“What, in the name of God, is that mess?“ He raises both his eyebrows as his eyes scan us and the kitchen behind us.

“You call it a mess, we call it baking.“ Corpse and I look at each other and smile, blushing as red as the streak in Dave’s hair.

“Am I missing something here? Did I call at a bad time?“ He asks, still struggling to rationalize what he is seeing.

“Yeah, you actually did. I’ll call you back.“ Corpse dead-ass hangs up on him, putting his phone away before turning to me, “We have more important matters at the moment.“

He kisses me again, this time more confidently. His arms wrap around me and prep me up on the counter, insinuating that this kiss won’t be as short as the last.

[anonymous-tals]

Oops, I projected my mental health issues onto a fictional character that is similar to me.  Time to write fanfiction, I guess!

TW: Eating Disorders.  If you are struggling or are in recovery from an eating disorder, here’s a big ol’ trigger warning.  There are no numbers or specifics about anything but it does center around Brad Bakshi of the show Mythic Quest struggling with his eating disorder.

This is not in an attempt to glamorize eating disorders(not that I wrote anything that would but just in case someone misinterprets this).  Eating disorders are not cute or quirky.  They are serious illnesses that lead to death.  If you are struggling with an eating disorder, you deserve recovery.  Please reach out for help to a trusted adult.

National Eating Disorder Association 1-800-931-2237

One last trigger warning for eating disorders before we begin!  I hope the writing isn’t trash.  If you have any critiques, feel free to comment them.  I hope you enjoy the story(if this is cringey, future me, you have permission to murder me right now):

Brad’s eyes opened, squinting as he tried to adjust to the harsh lights.  He looked around the room, confused as to where he was.  After a couple of seconds, he identified the room as a hospital room.  There was a lady sitting on a chair by the door reading a book.  Adjusting himself, Brad slowly sat up, his head aching as he did.  The lady perked up as she noticed Brad had awakened.

“Oh!  You’re awake!”, she said, calmly, putting down her book.

“Where-Where am I?”, said Brad.

“You’re in the hospital, sir.”  Brad looked around the room.  The walls were a cool green.  Typical nature photos shuffled through on a tv that was mounted on the wall in front of his bed as it waited to be used.  There was a thin door that he guessed was either a bathroom or a closet.  Brown cupboards lined the walls.  He moved his arm only to notice there was a tube attached to it.

“What the hell happened?”, he thought.  The previous day, or what he presumed to be the previous day, had been foggy.  Well, pretty much everyday lately had been a blur.

“I’m going to go tell a nurse you’re awake so we can do weights and vitals.”  A pang of fear struck him at the sound of the word weight.  Someone else was going to see what he weighed.  His thoughts were racing.

“Just take a deep breath.”, he thought.  He tried to calm himself down by looking around the room.  He noticed there was a card on the counter beneath the cabinets.  Curiosity got the best of him and he stood up.  Stars popped into his vision and he steadied himself before making his way to the counter.  The tube was just barely long enough for him to reach it.  The cover read, ‘Get well soon!’.  Brad walked back to the hospital bed and sat on the edge of the mattress.  “I wonder who it’s from?”, he thought, opening the card.  “I can’t believe you are in the hospital!  You appeared so healthy.  Get well, soon, motu.”

“Brad Bakshi?”, a nurse called from the doorway.  He looked up, tossing the card into a trash can by the bed.  The lady who had been sitting in the room with him walked in and sat down again, opening her book.  “Hello, I’m Amanda Armstrong and I’ll be your nurse today.  Do you know why you’re here?”, she said.

“No.”, Brad replied, shortly.

“Well, you were brought here by…”, she looked down at a clipboard she was holding.  “...Ian Grimm?  Does that name sound familiar?”

“Yes, he’s my boss.”  Brad kept his voice calm but his heart was starting to quicken.  Memories from the day previous began to surface.

“Well, he said you had fainted while walking up a flight of stairs.”  Brad’s calm demeanor cracked as the memories flooded back.

“Oh...yah.  I remember that.”

“Yes, well, you got a concussion.  Thankfully, it isn’t too bad.”

“When will I be getting out?”, Brad said, shaking away his feelings of anxiety.

“Well, let’s take your vitals first and then we can discuss that.  Come with me.”  Brad followed Amanda out into the hall.  They didn’t walk for long but the environment made him feel uneasy.  There was something surreal about it.  Or maybe it was the fact that he felt a little light headed that made everything feel a bit off.  “We’ll be in here.”, said Amanda, opening the door.  Brad entered the room, surveying his surroundings.  It looked like a typical room for check-ups.  Amanda made her way to the computer sitting on the desk and started logging in and opening a file.  “Ok, let’s do your vitals.  I’m going to ask you to lay down and stay still, please!”  She walked over to the wall where a weird machine stood.  “I’m just going to put this on your arm, if you’d roll up your sleeve for me.”  Brad rolled up his sleeve and she velcroed what appeared to be something relating to blood pressure.  “Ok, I’m going to need you to answer honestly.  Have you had any feelings of depression or sadness?”

“Excuse me?”, said Brad, startled, sitting up.

“Please lay down, Mr.Bakshi.  Begrudgingly, Brad lay down.

“Why on earth are you asking me this?”, said Brad, frustrated.

“Well…”, she hesitated.  “Ok, I’m going to be direct with you here.  Your boss reported that you hadn’t been eating much and you have been appearing to be quite fatigued and dizzy.  Right now, we’re doing your vitals to see what we’ll need to do.”

“Are you implying that I have an eating disorder?  I’ll tell you right now that I don’t.”

“Well, the lanugo is telling a different story.  Now, please, let’s go through the questions.”  The nurse asked the questions while doing the vitals despite Brad giving short, passive aggressive answers.

“Ok, time for weight and height.”  Brad's heart quickened.

“Do we have to?”

“I’m going to have you turn around.  You won’t even see it!”  He stepped onto the scale as he tried to hide his growing panic.

“You fat idiot.  If you restricted more, maybe you wouldn’t be so anxious right now.  You wouldn’t even be here, I bet!  You fat, stupid, fatty-”

“Ok, you can step off!”  The nurse's voice interrupted his thoughts and he stepped off the scale.  Ok, let’s do your height.

She measured his height and then went over the computer and input the information.

“Ok.  So, here’s what we’ve got going on here, Mr.Bakshi.  Your vitals are showing symptoms of anorexia and so is your BMI.”

“BMI is garbage.”, Brad said dismissively.

“Well, that doesn’t disregard any of the other information.  I can’t force you to do anything since you’re an adult but I would highly suggest going into inpatient care.”

“For the last time, I don’t have an eating disorder!  Sorry, I care about my health!  I thought losing weight was a good thing!”  The nurse sighed before closing out of the tabs on the computer.

“Well, you can think it over during the next couple days.  You’ll need to stay here to make sure your head is okay.”  Rolling his eyes, Brad scoffed.

“Fine, whatever.  My decision won’t change, though!”

They headed back to the room and Brad sat down on his bed.  He stared at the tv.  It had just faded to a picture of a monarch butterfly on a purple flower.  His gaze travelled across the room until it fell onto the card he had thrown in the trash can.

“I bet I wouldn’t even get diagnosed with anything.  I’m too fat.  I need to be thinner.  I’m not even that bad.  I need to be that bad, though.”  Just then, a sharp knock on the door halted his thoughts in their tracks.  Brad looked up to see David standing at the doorway with a balloon and a gift bag.

  “Great, just what I needed.”, said Brad, sarcastically.

“Nice to see you too, Brad.”  Brad rolled his eyes in response.  “The office was really worried about you!  You sure took a tumble.  Anyways, here’s a balloon!  And a gift!  Courtesy of your friends at the office!”

“Interesting.  I didn’t consider you guys as friends.”, Brad replied coldly.

“What do you want me to say, then?  Huh?  Courtesy of everyone you annoy and pester?”  Brad looked away, not responding.  He was finding it harder and harder to keep his emotions hidden underneath.

“Listen, David.  I don’t care about you guys and you guys don’t care about me and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“I’m sorry we’re decent enough human beings to care about other people.”

“Pshh, you don’t care about me.  You just want to feel good about yourselves so you can feel like you’re a decent human being.  So you can stop pretending you care about me because you don’t, ok?  No one does.”  His emotions were slipping through.  He could feel his eyes welling up but he wouldn’t allow the tears to fall.

“Come on, Brad.  Of course people care about you!  Your brother for example!  He’s a great guy!  He threw you that awesome birthday party, remember?”  Brad sat still, not responding.  “Earth to Brad, anyone in there?”, David said, giving a small laugh.

“Shut up!”  Brad shouted loudly, causing David to wince.  “My brother is a horrible person.  He has gone out of his way to ruin my life.  In fact, he is ruining my life right now.”  His voice cracked as a tear broke through.

“Brad, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize-”

“Just leave, ok?  Please just leave.”  Brad’s heart began to beat faster.  “You idiot.”, he thought.  “You let him see that you’re weak.  You are weak.  You’re just a fat, weak, pussy.”  His breathing was getting quicker and quicker.  The room started to spin.  It felt like everything was happening all at once.  Just then, he felt a hand on each of his shoulders.

“Take a deep breath, ok?”, said David.  Brad hesitated before taking a deep breath in and letting it out.  “In, 2, 3, 4.  Out, 2, 3, 4.  In, 2-”  Slowly Brad began to calm down.  He opened his eyes, not even realizing that he had closed them.  “Better?”, asked David, taking a step back.  Brad looked towards the window, avoiding eye contact, wiping the tears from his face.  He tried to think of something witty to say but he was too tired.  They were both quiet for a bit before David broke the silence.  “Well, I have to go but I-”

“Stay.  Please.”  Brad didn’t break eye contact with the window.

“I...I guess I could stay.”  David pulled up the chair that the lady had been in earlier.  They sat there in silence for a while before David grabbed the remote for the TV.  “Are you good with me putting something on?”  Brad stayed quiet.  “I’ll take that as a yes!”  He scrolled through the small selection of movies before choosing something and relaxing into his chair.

…

They sat there for a while.  Movies played while David talked about what had happened at the office that day.  Poppy and Ian created an obstacle course to see who was better.  Not better at one specific thing.  Just better in general.  Brad didn’t respond but every once in a while, a small smile would crack through.

“Well, it’s getting late so I think I should actually get going.”, David said, standing up and started walking out the door.  Just before he left, Brad spoke.

“Thank you...for staying and all.”  He, once again, wasn’t making eye contact.

“Of course, man.  It’s no big deal!”  There was a pause before Brad spoke again.

“They want me to do an inpatient program.”

“Oh?  For…”  David trailed off.

“Yah…”  Brad started fidgeting with the corner of the blanket on the bed.  “I don’t know what to do.  Whether I should go or not.”

“Well, I’d say you should do what you think would benefit you best.”, said David, taking a couple steps towards him.  Brad was silent.

“...Thanks, David.”

David gave a small wave as he walked out the door.  Brad sat there awake for a while, unable to sleep.  He sat there, listening to the sounds of the hospital through the door.  A woman, presumably a nurse, poked her head in the room.  “Would you like to order dinner?”  Brad shook his head and the nurse left.  He then spotted the gift bag that David had brought.  He picked it up and removed the tissue paper stuffed in at the top.  Inside there was a pig plush and a card.  The plushy was adorable and very soft.  He pet the pig plush, enjoying the soothing texture, before placing it in his lap and moving onto the card.  It was your typical get better soon card.  On the inside, there were either signatures or little get well messages from everyone.  It seemed like the pig plush was Jo’s idea.  Brad leaned over and placed the card on the side table next to his bed.  He looked at it for a minute before grabbing the pig, getting under the covers and falling asleep.

[fumingspice]

i still talk to you when i’m screaming at the sky

Pairing: Cordelia Goode x Reader

Prompt: “I just wanted a happy ending.” “I’m drunk in love with you.” “If you quote a Taylor Swift or Fleetwood Mac song one more time I’ll slap you.”

Warnings: slightly drunk delia, angsty, mentions of ill mental health. happy ending

A/N: I don’t even know. I think I’m just projecting at this rate. I wrote this instead of doing another of my five history essays due for Friday so if my teacher kills me in my sleep you know why <3

and when you can’t sleep at night; you hear my stolen lullaby.

Madison Montgomery grunted in frustration. Then again when she was ignored the first time.

You kept your head in your book, knowing she was desperate for attention.

“Lord almighty,” Madison groaned dramatically, sitting against the arm of the couch and then throwing herself back over your lap. Visibly irritated by the fact that you still handed looked up from your book she almost shouted; “Oh, how I wish someone would acknowledge my presence.”

You met at her eyes for a split second and returned them promptly to the book.

“That’s it,” she muttered. Madison gripped the book from your hand and threw it across the room. You clenched your hands into fists, doing your best to maintain your calm composure. That’s who you were in the coven. The calm one. “Look at me when I’m goddamn talking to you!”

Your eyes darted up to meet Madison’s steel glare. “What the fuck is the matter with you, Y/N?” she exclaimed.

You genuinely had no idea what she was talking about.

“Don’t yell at me, Montgomery,” you replied, biting your tongue hard.

Madison had no patience for playing games when she found something serious. Which although wasn’t often, it was almost always about something as superficial as a wrong glance at dinner. “You’ve been giving Cordy the cold shoulder for the past three months. I want to know what’s going on.”

You raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re kidding me, right?”

Madison threw her hands up at you. “Yeah, Y/N. I’m kidding I don’t actually care.”

“Typical,” you muttered. You gave a wave of your hand and your book came flying from the other side of the room. Madison turned around in one swift movement and punched the book square, sending in hurtling to the ground.

“I’m being sarcastic, you dumb fucking bitch!” She yelled. If you weren’t so pissed right now you would probably have been impressed with her reflexes.

“What do you fucking want, Madison? You’ve getting on my tits every fucking day for the entire week,” you started yelling unintentionally. “So, what is it? What exactly do you want me to fucking say? Do you want me to fucking tell you- yet again- that Cordelia has a fucking boyfriend? You want me to reiterate it to you that I can’t fucking look at her in any other way?”

Madison smirked, knowing she was getting you exactly where she wanted you. “It’s not my fault that you couldn’t keep your shit together after you broke up with her. The least you could do is grow a pair of balls and be happy for her.”

You felt your face go red with anger. “Are you fucking insane?! Do you actually hear yourself right now? Madison, I told you fucking everything! I told you it was a mutal decision. I told you that it was the last fucking decision that I fucking wanted to make!” You screamed. The anger had been building up for weeks, and sweet jesus did the release feel good.

It was late at night and you knew that if any girls weren’t asleep they would be hearing exactly what you had to say. Cordelia wasn’t in the building after all. You could say anything you liked.

“I fucking love her, Madison. Every time I see her smile at that knock-off Lindsey Buckingham I want to rip his fucking face off! I know you can’t see that because the boy you brought back from the dead chose your best friend over you and then strangled you to death!”

That’s where your words got Madison.

Within a second, you found your hand striking your face hard.

Composure was the last thing on your mind now as your fist went straight for Madison’s nose. A crack and screamed followed as the blonde launched herself at you.

A scrap insued, knocking each other into furniture, punching, kicking. You fell to the ground as Madison’s boot was launched into your stomach. Once. Twice. Three times. You pushed yourself off the floor and kneed her in the crotch, sending her down to the ground with you on top of her. Your fists had found a mind of their own as they gave blows to her face, chest and stomach.

Your body was thrown from Madison’s, pinned to the wall by some invisible force. Madison crawled from the floor and punched you hard in the stomach. Then the face. You could feel blood dripping from your nose and mouth when the force dropped you on the ground. Madison sulked off, seemingly satisfied as you curled yourself into a ball.

Tears fell slowly from your eyes for the first time in months. You’d finally released every pent up piece of energy that you had held in and there was nothing left in your walls to keep you together. Madison had taken a physcial and verbal fist to everything keeping you together.

It was true; the decision to break up was mutal. Although, it seemed slightly more mutual for Cordelia. You whined too much, you thought, for her to be happy as your friend. Now, months since, you found yourself in a false mask of calmness and serenity about the situation.

The tears were almost temporary as you lay facing the ceiling. Blood dried on your cheeks making your skin feel tight but you didn’t care to move. You almost fell asleep until the front door unlocked at some ungodly hour in the morning. You didn’t care who it was nor did you care to move at this rate.

You saw your reflection in the mirror. The lines of blood on your face struck nasty images from long ago of blood on your limbs. You had recovered now. You were strong and you knew in your heart of hearts that you would never allow yourself to ever feel worthless again. You weren’t disposable. You are not disposable. You were a beautiful soul in a soaring tide, although struggling to see that.

Familiar footsteps clacked down the hall into the parlour. 

"Jesus Christ, Y/N?" Cordelia's voice sent a pang of dread coursing through your body.

"Leave me alone, Delia," you groaned, your body still ached for Madison's assault.

Cordelia fell to her knees beside you. "Oh, sweetheart what happened?" There was a pleading in her voice as she lifted the top half of your body onto her lap. She dabbed your blood with her sleeve.

You could smell the alcohol off her.

"Can you stand up for me?" She asked, helping you to your feet. She brought you to the kitchen and began tending to the mess that was your face. "Please, Y/N. Tell me what happened."

You brushed her off and tried to leave to go to your bedroom. With a flick of her wrist, Cordelia brought furniture to block the entrance.

"You're not leaving here until you tell me exactly what happened, young lady."

You chuckled meanly. "You're fucking kidding me." You turned to face her. "Madison beat the shit out of me."

Cordelia's face dropped in disbelief. "Why?"

"I'm still trying to fucking figure that out!" You shouted. Cordelia's face flinched. 

There was a silence that you hadn't felt with her in a long time, shortly interupted by Zoe walking into the kitchen.

"Cordelia, go to bed," she said. She was going to bring the calm, apparently. "I'll take care of Y/N. I think I know what happened."

"Well, then could you please explain that to me?" Delia asked defensively. Zoe motioned for her to leave.

Zoe approached you slowly and took one look at your face. "Your nose is broken," she muttered. "I know a spell, it'll hurt like a bitch but it'll save the process."

You shrugged and let her do her thing, regretting it almost immeditely as your shrieked in pain.

"Cordelia still loves you, Y/N. I don't know how you haven't seen that yet," she told you, pressing a wet towel to your nose.

"She sure as hell has a weird way of showing it," you replied. All the talk about Cordelia for the first time in months was hitting you like a truck. You dealt with things by ignoring it and although it probably wasn't efficient. It still worked.

Zoe glared at you. "She broke up with Sylvester. I can sense it," she told you. "She misses you more than anything in the world."

Tears threatened to make themselves known once more. "I can't keep doing this, Zoe. I can't keep thinking there's another chance when there's just not."

Zoe tugged you into a warm hug. "Please talk to her, Y/N. Maybe it'll do more good than not."

You nodded in agreement and heaved yourself up the stairs. Cordelia's bedroom door faced you as you mustered up the courage to knock. You could almost hear the echos of memories you shared in her room.

"Police Officer knock," the girls often joked that you had. The door opened itself and you walked in.

"Cordelia?" You spoke, glancing around her room. You could see her outline laying across the bed, a glass of scotch in hand.

Cordelia poked her head up as you walked to the bed. She had clearly been crying.

"I'm sorry I yelled, Delia," you said softly. Her reached under yours and the pain hit you hard.

"It's okay, Y/N. But can you please just be honest with me? What on Earth happened down there?" 

Tears ran down both of your faces as you explained everything. Every word of your altercation with Madison, everything that happened, everything that you had felt over the past few months. Cordelia pressed her forehead against yours and you cried harder. How could her lips be so close yet so far away?

"Why have you been drinking lately? You barely touched it before?" You asked innocently. Cordelia pursed her lips.

"I missed that warmth," she choked. "I missed that warmth that I only ever felt when I was with you."

Her words shot daggers of guilt through you.

"No matter what I tried, no drink could ever match the feeling of being drunk in love with you," she sighed. "Time was taking its sweet time erasing you, so I thought I could do it myself. The drinks. The power. The men. Nothing got close to you."

You placed your hand over hers and squeezed it. "This is so, so stupid, Delia."

The Supreme nodded. "I know. All I ever wanted was a happy ending. I wanted to grow old with you. I wanted to marry you and adopt a child. I don't even know why I'm saying that I did want that. I do want that."

You dropped your head back. "Cordelia, I would give anything to call myself yours again but I cannot go through the heartbreak of losing you again."

Cordelia paused, you saw the reflection of your hurt in her eyes.

"I'm so sorry that I hurt you. I knew you didn't want it. I didn't want it. I just thought I was doing the best for you."

"This entire time I've felt like an open wound, Delia."

There was another silence.

"Y/N, what would I need to prove to you for another chance? One more shot to make this work. I want that chance to grow old with you," she said. The Supreme was begging for you at this point.

"Cordelia, I want you to understand that if it doesn't work out this time then I'm done."

Cordelia nodded solemly, her whiskey brown eyes darted to your lips. "Can I?"

You pressed your lips to hers before she could finish speaking, your soul ravaging for that piece of Cordelia that you had hungered for.

You found it in her lips. Finding yourselves giggling. Tears of relief, joy, happiness fell onto each other's skin like drops of nectar from the Gods. All was right when you were with her.

Warm lips, warm skin. Your hands weren't cold when you were with her. 

Your lips danced together in rings of bliss as she enloped into you, it was like a battle of nature.

Cordelia broke away, her body shifting slightly under yours as her eyes sobered.

"What is it, sweetheart?" you ask. Even placing your cheek on her hand gave you relief.

"I don't want to wait anymore," she whispered. She breathed in sharply as she motioned for you to get off her. You complied and sat on the bed, watch as she walked over to the dresser and pull something out of a box at the bottom of a pile of paperwork.

You grinned, tears flowing down as she presented you with what she'd dug out.

"What do you think?" she asked, her voice hopeful. You clasped your hand to your mouth and nodded hard.

The next morning at breakfast, you couldn't bring yourself to talk to Madison. 

Not after what she did.

At least, not until you noticed her smirking in victory at the sight of the engagment ring on your finger.

taglist: @sarahp-stan @jumpoffabridge-t @sarahpaulsonsoftie @definitelynot-a-writer @bottom4delia @delias-bitch-craft @creepingwolfberry​ @thesapphictimelady​

[kikis-writing-world]

Bug in the System

Summary: Reader has a complicated relationship with Nathan, living and working with him. They’ve always been nervous to bring up prescription medication, so shit hits the fan when they runs out and their mood plummets.

Pairing: Nathan Bateman x GN!Reader that struggles with mental health.

Word Count: 2k

Rating/Warnings: Mental health - depression and anxiety are expressly mentioned and reader is in a bad low. Talk of medication and ramifications of not taking them. Mention of doctors. Brief mention of sex. Worries of the stigma around mental health. Lots of swearing because it’s Nathan. Unedited/Betaed. it’s almost fluff in Nathan’s asshole way, there’s a happy ending.

A/N: I blame @foxilayde​ that I’m suddenly writing for Nathan... I hated him when I watched the movie and now here we are. Idk, this idea hit me last night while trying to fall asleep and I couldn’t get it out of my head. I had to write it.

You weren’t sure how to define the relationship you and Nathan had. He wasn’t your boyfriend - not only did that feel so juvenile, but also… he just wasn’t. There had never been a declaration of love between the two of you, no commitment to monogamy or even non-monogamy. The two of you lived together, worked together, slept together- it could almost be called a friends with benefits relationship, only… softer. You ate dinners together, danced around the house together, and cuddled together when watching movies. You also spent days, sometimes weeks at a time where you hardly spoke to each other when engrossed in a project. Did this form out of attraction, or emotion, or was it an inevitability when two adults - whose sexualities, attractions and availabilities lined up accordingly - lived together in isolation for an extended period of time? 

In summary: there was no easy way to define what was between the two of you, and you were happy there were no other humans around to ask. You didn’t feel the need to defend what you shared, but you had no desire to try to label it either.

Despite the friendly and casual nature of whatever the relationship was, there were still things that you had yet to admit to Nathan. The dwindling supply of medications tucked safely in a make-up bag inside the drawer of your bedside table felt like a ticking time bomb. You only had so many doses remaining and it wasn’t like you could walk down to the local pharmacy for a refill. Any supplies coming to the fortress of a home had to be called in, ordered, and helicoptered to you. There was no way to do it without Nathan finding out along the way.

You watched the pills slowly empty from their plastic bottles like a reverse hourglass. Despite the effects they had on your malfunctioning brain chemistry, they never quite tampered down the anxiety you had about opening up about your mental illness, let alone to someone like Nathan.

Nathan worked hard and played harder. He strove to be the best him he could be at all times. He accepted nothing less than perfection and no matter what the relationship between you two could be defined as -coworkers, employer/employee, friends, friends with benefits, lovers -  you didn’t want to disappoint him.

You avoided and avoided until inevitably, the last pill came out of the last bottle. It only got worse from there. Without the anxieties in check and the chemicals being balanced, the insecurity flared even worse. Your inner voice told you that you deserved the unhappiness flowing through you, that you should just stay in bed and give up since Nathan would kick you out of the house soon enough: he’d either get tired of your low mood, your falling productivity, or he’d discover your secret and be done with you.

He noticed. Of course he did. You stopped dancing, stopped cuddling, stopped fucking. Then you stopped eating, stopped talking, stopped leaving your room. You felt like you couldn’t get out of bed at all. You spent your time sleeping or curled up under your blankets in the dark room wishing you could sleep more. That or just disappear.

That was where Nathan found you, a month and a half after you’d run out of your meds.

“What the fuck is going on with you?” He barged into your room one morning… afternoon… you had no idea what time it was.

Nathan turned the light on and you could hear him pacing. “Are you sick? Do I need to call in a doctor? Are you even alive under there?! Hello?!”

You sighed, forcing yourself to sit up and prove you were alive, awake, and hearing him. The blankets dropped to your waist, revealing what you were sure was an absolute mess of a human. You knew what you looked like the last time you’d been brave enough to look in the mirror and you were sure it was even worse now.

Nathan cursed and you swear he nearly recoiled at the sight of you. “Are you in here dying on me or something?” He questioned. 

You weren’t sure how to answer, what you could possibly say to him.

“Hello?!” He snapped his fingers in front of your face. “Is anybody in there?!”

You blinked as he crowded you, hysterics growing as you seemingly ignored him. You could tell he was close to grabbing you and shaking you, and you didn’t know if your body could handle that. As it was, your muscles had protested sitting up. Instead, you leaned over and opened your drawer, taking out the zippered make-up bag.

You tossed the pouch at him, hearing all the plastic bottles click together as it landed at his feet. He bent down to pick it up, opening it carefully like he thought some sort of creature might jump out at him. His brows furrowed when he saw the bottles inside and dumped them out onto the mattress.

“Are these all empty? Fuck did you take these?” He questioned, panic rising in his voice. “Are you trying to OD on me or something? Shit.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, about to call for help.

“No.” You croaked. “Well, yeah. I took them… but… they’re my meds.” You gave in. “I’ve been taking them since I got here. I[was taking until they ran out.”

Nathan looked down at the bottles, picking one up as he read the label. “What are they for?”

“Depression mostly. Anxiety.” You shrugged, listing the simple ones.

Nathan was quiet as he read the bottles. You had no idea if he knew what any of them meant. It’s not like the labels read “Take one daily to stop the crazies!” The names, the dosages, the frequencies meant nothing to someone with no experience… but then again, Nathan wasn’t just anyone.

“How long?” He sighed, turning to sit on the edge of the bed.

You would have deflated if you didn’t already feel as low as you could go. Having assumed the worst, you weren’t surprised he couldn’t look at you.

“I was diagnosed in junior year-”

“No, I mean how long have you been without your meds?” He interrupted you, turning to stare  you down.

“A month.” You shrugged. “Almost two.”

“For fucks sakes.” He grumbled, turning to his phone again and typing away.

“I’ll pack my shit. Just, give me a few days and I’ll go.” You mumbled, laying down on your side and facing away from him. You didn’t want to watch him posting for a new assistant or scheduling the pick-up or whatever he was doing. You’d wallow for a bit, probably take a nap, and then you’d pack anything here that was important. Fuck the rest. You didn’t have the energy. You didn’t care.

“The fuck are you talking about?” He asked distractedly, like he hadn’t heard you as his cogs of his brain jumped to life. He did that a lot when he was preoccupied. He would hear your voice, realize you’re talking, but not absorb the words. Sometimes he needed to ask 3 or 4 times until you gave up and texted him instead.

“I’m bringing in a doctor. You need to get checked out before you start back up on anything. You’re not supposed to go off of these without supervision. Says so right here. Black and white.” He chastised you.

You frowned, looking over your shoulder in confusion. You saw him still typing away on his phone, holding one of the empty, orange-tinted bottles in his hand. He set it down, picking up another. He took a picture, looking over the label quickly for himself before setting it back down.

“What are you doing?”

“Sending him the labels so he knows what he’s walking into. Why the fuck would you just stop taking your meds?” He sniped. “Why didn’t you get more? I fucking ask you if you need shit and you just conveniently forget your pills?”

You picked at a thread of the blanket, not wanting to watch him as he grew angrier with you. As soon as you were in good health and his conscience was clear, he’d be rid of you. You were sure of it. It was more than you’d expected to be honest.

You heard the quiet noise from his phone, indicating the email had been sent. That meant his attention wasn’t divided as he rounded back on you.

“Why won’t you answer me? It’s like fucking talking to a wall or something. If I wanted one-sided conversations, I never would have brought you up here. Why didn’t you get more?!”

You took a shuddering breath before answering. “I didn’t want you to know.”

“Know what? That you take medication?” He scoffed in disbelief.

The room was quiet as you didn’t answer, but you could practically hear his brain processing, whirring like a computer with a squeaky exhaust fan.

“Hey, look at me.” He ordered, his voice dropping in volume to a kinder tone, but it was still not a request. It was a demand. You sat up again, looking at him stare at you with dark, angry eyes.

“When a program isn’t working, do you throw away the whole CPU or do you debug it and fucking find the fix?” He asked. You didn’t answer, assuming it was rhetorical.

“Your software is fucked, and these,” he picked up one of the bottles to hold up between you two. “These are the fix. Why the fuck would you be embarassed about shit like that?”

You shrugged your shoulders, dropping your gaze again. “You’re…” you struggled to find the words, but Nathan jumped on your train of thought frighteningly quick.

“Me?! So it’s my fault? I eat brown rice and salad and work out every day so I’m some health nut hippy who wouldn’t understand, is that it?”

He was putting words into your mouth, but he was essentially getting the point. You were scared he would reject you, mock you, think less of you.

He crawled towards you on the bed, cupping your chin a little too tight as he lifted your face. He was clearly done having you look away from him. “I’m a fucking reclusive genius who lives in the middle of ass fuck nature and only lets people come and go with a goddamn keycard! Do you not think I’m self-aware enough to realize that? A fucking prodigy, multi-millionaire by 15, CEO of the most successful technology company in history. The President calls me and I hit ignore. Do you really think I’m not self-aware enough to know we all have our own brand of fucked up?” He laughed.

“If you need these to get through it, to be my little genius-” He released your jaw to cup your face in both hands, giving it a shake. “To keep up with my shit, to live here without losing your mind at the isolation, to be my dance partner and dinner partner and movie date - then fucking take them. Would I be having to tell you this if it was for your blood pressure or a heart condition or something?!”

His phone buzzed and he released his hold on you, leaning back to read the message that had just come through.

“Doc’s gonna be here tomorrow morning. Gotta keep you hydrated until then and you should try to eat.” He summed up the message as his eyes skimmed the screen. He tucked his phone back into his pocket before slapping your blanket-covered thigh. “What are we eating tonight? Your choice.”

“I’m not hungry.” You mumbled.

“Not an option!” He declined as he stood off the bed. “What are we eating?”

You sighed, letting your head fall back as you thought. “Grilled cheese?”

“And tomato soup? Coming right up.” He leaned over to you, cupping the back of your head as he pulled you close enough to kiss the top of your head. “Rest. I’ll bring it in when it’s ready.”

Tagging: @wickedfrsgrl @din-damn-djarin @dinthisisthe-wayson @seasonschange-butpeopledont @kesskirata​ 

[ginkgomoon]

Victor’s Aura- A Character Aura Study

This post is my take on Victor’s aura, taken from my knowledge and intuition to depict what kind of aura he has! I did one on Gavin, as well as Gavin’s astrological birth chart so if you haven’t seen them, you can read them after this post!

What is an Aura? “Aura” by the dictionary is “the distinctive atmosphere or quality that seems to surround and be generated by a person, thing, or place”. 

It’s essentially the electromagnetic energy field that surrounds all living things. It’s the magnetic field of vibration like how a lighted candle is lit and how a scent or perfume surrounds a flower. In fact, it’s correctly described as an extension of the body. It’s a part of every cell. Your aura can be affected by anything, including traumas, memories and emotions. It can tell us a lot about a person’s mental, physical, emotional state, vitality and path of life. Habitual thoughts, emotions and even illnesses can be clearly revealed. If a person changes their long standing thoughts and emotions, the aura will too reflect that. 

Victor’s Aura There are many layers to the aura but let’s start off with the “ground” colour. This is the main colour that dominates the aura both in size and intensity. It’s arguably the most important colour as it shows what the person should be doing in their life. 

Victor’s main ground colour is dark yellow (keep in mind this is not defined as “murky”- when someone is lost and muddled in their life). People with dark yellow as their ground are confident, well adjusted and analytical. As a result, they take life one step at a time, one goal at a time, ensuring every project is seen through properly to completion to avoid problems and setbacks later. They are patient people, setting their worthwhile goals in no hurry to reach them, as they know without a doubt that they will obtain their deserved reward in the end. They prefer to do things rationally and in a logical manner, especially at work where they are required to make use of their good memory and love for detail. As they are ambitious and persistent, they often take up roles of leadership, responsibility and of importance. From his corrections on MC’s reports to the food he makes at Souvenir (that is insisted to be cooked according to certain temperatures), Victor is no doubt a detail-oriented leader even whether if the goal he wants to achieve is related to work or not. 

MC: It’s a sort of mark that can be left in literature or in a photograph… and I can feel it. Victor’s eyes are lowered. In his clear and tranquil eyes, there are ripples of light and shadows. Victor: Such as? The smile tugging at the corner of his mouth is clear, and I ponder this seriously. MC: For example, the way I write proposals has changed. The format of my proposals has changed. The indent of the first line, font size 15, 1.5 spacing between lines… it’s the format you find most pleasing to the eye! Victor’s eyebrow quirks. Victor: That’s all? MC: There’s more! I’ve become so much more picky with food. I never used to complain that food tastes bad, but eating at Souvenir has cultivated my palate. Now, when I eat even Michelin meals, I feel as if something’s lacking… -CN Exhibition Date 

“What happened with SE is just an example. We’re from different businesses and different fields. There’s no need to compare yourself with me. Also, I’m older than you. When you’ve reached my age, you might attain the achievements I have today.” -CN Night Meeting Date

“Slow and steady wins the race” is the moral that they live by, but sometimes adhering to this credo may frustrate others as they can be so analytical and detail oriented at times- usually at great lengths. A cute little add from the Tender Regards Date around the concept of snail mail, time (Victor’s evol!) and the goal of always reaching your destination in the end demonstrate this this motif in Victor’s relationship with MC.

“Looks like you should have received this Future Mail. Apart from supporting your event, I’m only going to do this once. This will not be repeated. The things I want to say to you are all in this videotape. It only belongs to you.” -CN Tender Regards Date 

“When will you finally understand? It’s all right. I’m patient. I’ll wait for you to see the light slowly.” -Rooftop Date

Although they have feelings, they only ever reveal it to people close to them. They enjoy the detail and technicality of conversations and find it hard to talk about their emotions. Victor’s Exhibition and Tender Regards Date are very useful sources of information in relation to these topics, as it displays Victor’s deep emotions of affection to MC and highlights the importance of expressing emotions to those you love. Dark yellow aura peoples’ greatest lesson in life is to be more emotionally open, and when do they do, it usually occurs later in life. 

“The writer wrote it down herself - “The time I spent loving someone, not a single second of it was wasted.” I rarely hear such words leave Victor’s mouth, and it makes me feel a little surreal. In my memory, we very rarely talk about the topic of ‘love’. Maybe it’s because he rarely says what’s in his heart. Maybe it’s because I’m used to being thick-skinned. We never have the opportunity to seriously understand the meaning in these words. -CN Exhibition Date 

“Do you still remember the special episode on “Feelings” from before? Actually, this theme was inspired by that episode. Giving gifts is a common way to express how one feels. But it’s not that easy to send a gift to the future. With Future Mail, the sender can convey their feelings and surprises in this gift to the other party across time.” -CN Tender Regards date 

People with dark yellow as their ground enjoy system and order such as routines at work and in their home life. This is applied to Victor’s strict schedules in his day to day life, such as taking on what time he sleeps and when he gets up to go on his morning jogs. They need to consider new ideas before grudgingly accepting them. This is especially applied to when Victor always says “just this once” to MC when he’s being “childish” with her (but we really know that isn’t the case, he knows this all too well, too). 

“Because a certain greedy cat always says she wants to eat something sweet after dinner, I made pudding before leaving the house. Do you think this is a mark of how I’ve been changed?” -CN Exhibition Date 

Next is Victor’s “radiating” colour. This represents his interests and motivations. It adds strength to the ground colour. They can work well in harmony, some can conflict. 

I would take Victor’s radiating as violet. Violet is a very highly spiritual colour, as people with this colour as their radiating will have a very spiritual take on life, as they are deep thinkers who like to analyse everything and think matters though logically. They are also naturally intuitive. Violet radiatings have the ability to come up with unique and unusual solutions to problems. As they enjoy learning, they have the potential to become experts in their field of endeavour- which is no surprise for Victor as he’s basically an “on top of the world tyrant” in the industry of finances. In addition, they feel things deeply, but rather operate things on an emotionally free level- again with the ground aura traits to enhance this! However, Victor too, has a high EQ despite this.

“I’m no different from you. There are many things I cannot do or force to make happen. It’s okay to not be strong, it’s okay to not do well. You don’t have to bottle up your emotions.” … “I won’t tell you to keep holding on no matter what difficulties you face. That isn’t realistic. There will come a time when you will become an even better version of yourself who will have enough courage and experience to deal with all of this.” -CN Colours of Rain Date 

Overall, Victor’s aura of darker yellow and violet depict him as more of a straightforward kind of person, hardworking and articulate, however soon we realise there’s more to what we see of Victor, like how MC thinks that Victor comes off as a “heartless CEO” throughout the main story chapters but he slowly warms up to her whilst determining to prove her wrong. Victor is wise, and doesn’t bother to put in his personal efforts to where it’s not needed, but when it’s up to him- he strives to go all the way for perfection and with the best of his ability. He spends a lot of time in deep contemplation to determine his plans of attack which allows him to execute them well. His values and worth ethics will always in the end allow him to make time for MC, no matter how busy he is :) 

And lastly…

Victor leans against the window, his face still written with distaste, but he does not attempt to remove that childish-looking blanket. He brings the red cup to his lips and gently blows on it. The warm light encases him, softening the aura surrounding him. His outline also appears gentler. He doesn’t look as impossible to get close to. My eyes land on Victor, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He puts down the cup in his hands, lowering his eyes, as though deep in thought. This is a Victor I have never seen before… In this moment, he seems to have put down his stubbornness and distant aura - becoming someone within reach. Only now does Victor finally feel my gaze. He raises his head to look at me. -CN Warm Date 

All of a sudden, he lifts his other hand gently. A water droplet pelts onto his palm, as though pulling him into the pattering rain. Seeing this, I find myself subconsciously frozen in place. Because of the enshrouding misty rain, the Victor before me appears warmer and more tender than usual. -CN Tender Regards Date 

It always has and always will be MC to see this side of him- the tenderness and the willingness of how he opens up to her- his aura willingly to embrace hers too. Fun fact- auras can deflect off one another if you’re with someone you dislike. But when it’s with two people in love, their auras connect, combine and produce an even brighter and bigger accommodating aura for the both of them. He’s certainly living working towards to achieve his greatest life goals- both in his businesses and being with MC, striving together to make great changes and milestones in their respective industries. Without a doubt, she has helped Victor’s aura grow, expand and shine the many rays through his doubts, allowing a light from within to burn brighter and evolve him into more of the brilliant, hardworking and tender man we know today.

[levihantrash]

new chapter update!

Summary:

Levi’s pragmatism pulled the brakes. “I’m not about to dedicate my life to become a broke comic artist.”

Levi Ackerman, a gruff cleaner with an appetite for toilet humour meets the unabashedly friendly creative writing professor, Hange Zoë, who somehow ropes Levi into working on a comic with them. While the comic’s title remains undecided, Hange knows that it’s going to be set in a world where giant, human-like creatures devour other humans. Erwin Smith, the comic’s self-appointed editor, unironically thinks it’s going to be a hit. All Levi knows is that he wants to indulge in drawing this comic while hanging out with a certain writer who just won’t stop talking to him.

Where Hange, Levi, and Erwin are the creators of Attack on Titan.

Chapter 1: Free Bread

Chapter 2: New Friends

Like routine, Levi found himself waiting for a certain professor to show up. When Erwin called out to him, he couldn’t help but search behind the tall, imposing figure.

“I haven’t seen Hange this morning either,” Erwin said. Levi found himself irritated by Erwin’s discernment and by his own discrete uneasiness.

“Good morning, Erwin,” Levi greeted, nonetheless.

Hange was late, which Levi figured wouldn’t be out of the ordinary.

The morning passed without a single sign of Hange.

“Sorry, are you Mr. Levi?” A nervous-looking person approached him, holding on to a well-wrapped steamed bun. A twinge of hope stirred in Levi.

“Levi will do,” he said.

“Dr. Hange said I should pass you this,” the bread-holder blurted out.

Levi’s gaze softened. “Where’s Hange?”

“Oh! She’s rushing a deadline and insisted that I pass you this bread.”

The inexplicable rush of relief made Levi dizzy as he grasped the bread limply. “Huh. Sorry that you have to be an errand boy today.”

“It’s no trouble!”

“Who are you?”

“Sorry! I didn’t introduce myself! I’m Moblit, their teaching assistant! Dr. Hange helps me out with my master’s thesis because they’re my advisor. This is just my way of saying thanks. Dr. Hange also treats me to meals, gives me detailed comments for my work… though they might go overboard when it comes to giving speeches about the importance of world-building and honing your craft, it’s inspiring how dedicated they are in what they do.”

Moblit took a deep breath, making up for lost air in between the lengthy, whole-hearted sentences.

“Is that so…” Levi said, suddenly contemplative. “Do you want some tea?”

“Are you getting it from the staff pantry?”

“No, that stuff’s stale as shit. I have better tea, wait here.”

Levi recalled Erwin asking him in front of everyone in the staffroom if he wanted the staffroom snacks. Hange followed up, speaking at a volume that was clear enough for most of the staff to overhear, orchestrating a deliberate conversation with Erwin.

“Since there are no hard rules as to who the snacks and drinks are catered for, and technically, Levi is a staff member, he should have access to the snacks!”

None of the professors objected. It was probably because open prejudice would be socially unacceptable, Levi thought.

Begrudgingly, he accepted Erwin’s offer, and in full view of everyone, took a candy bar.

Hange gasped. “Just one?” Levi glared at them.

“Aren’t the snacks for your little sister?” Hange asked. He nodded, sensing the collective spike in sympathy for him in the staffroom.

After the whole stage, the trio huddled conspicuously in a corner outside the staffroom.

Hange whispered to Levi, “You could have played along better!”

“Erwin’s tired of your skit,” Levi said, overwhelmed and annoyed at the turn of events.

“No he’s not!” Hange said sternly, before gulping down half a bottle of water.

Erwin, standing in between them, told Hange to keep it down.

“Thanks, you two.” Levi found himself staring at the floor, embarrassed that his two friends had to construe him as a pitiful character for him to get a few snacks, even though he had been informed of the plan prior.

“I’m sorry, Levi,” Hange said, their lips compressed into a hard, grim line. “It’s ridiculous that you can’t even get snacks and refreshments as part of the staff.”

“I’m used to it.”

“If anyone’s giving you a hard time, you have us,” Hange said, still put off.

They squared their shoulders impressively. “Right Erwin?”

“You can rely on us, Levi,” Erwin surmised, equally sombre.

Growing more ruffled by their declarations, Levi hissed, “I don’t need two bodyguards.”

“No, you definitely don’t,” Hange joked. “Some people have told me about the deathly aura you emit that I must have missed…”

Fixing their attention at a vague distance, Hange’s playful jibes dwindled into an idle pondering, “I wonder if you found some joy in our companionship at least.”

They’re talking about joy and friendship again… Levi thought.

He found himself back in the present, handing a cup of black tea to Moblit, guiding him towards a bench.

Moblit squeaked out, “Thank you!”

“How did you find me?” Levi asked, betraying none of his real curiosity.

“Hange gave me a description…” Moblit began, not making eye contact with Levi.

“Did they? What’s the description?” Knowing Hange’s brand of humour, Levi braced himself.

Moblit shuffled in his seat, terribly reluctant. “They said to look out for a cold, black-haired man with an undercut, wearing an apron, gloves and brandishing a mop while scolding people to not step on wet floors.” Levi made a mental note to strangle Hange.

Moblit quickly supplemented, “You’re not actually cold though!”

“How would you know that?”

“Um… you’re offering me tea?”

Levi clicked his tongue. “That’s a low bar for human decency. You should have higher standards.”

“You’re right, Mr. Levi… I mean Levi.”

Levi noted Moblit’s jittery manner when he briefly checked his phone for a message and let out a small groan.

“Hey, you look worried sick. You didn’t receive a death threat, did you?”

Moblit laughed weakly, running his hand through his hair. “Uh, you see, I’m one of the editors for the bi-annual literary magazine and we’ve been looking for illustrators…”

“I take it that you haven’t been successful?”

“Yes… I just received someone’s rejection. It’s okay, we’ll find one,” Moblit said, although his panicked lip-biting ran contradictory to his optimistic statement. Levi’s hands twitched again. He folded them promptly into his apron pockets.

Upon finishing the tea, Moblit stood up and gave a tiny, polite bow. “It was nice meeting you Levi. Thanks for listening and for the tea!”

“Good luck,” Levi said, in time before Moblit rushed off.

Bagging up the rubbish, Levi heaved the load on his shoulder easily, only to be startled by the appearance of Hange.

“Fuck! Can you stop jumping out of nowhere?” Though momentarily disconcerted, the tension built up from the day unwound instantaneously, leaving his body loose and feeble.

“Levi! Did you shit yourself?” Hange sang. They accidentally bumped into the gigantic rubbish bag, falling butt-first onto the ground, phone in hand.

“Be careful,” Levi said, in the same monotonous voice he used regardless of the situation. Unless the situation involved Hange leaping out of nowhere. He looped his free arm under their armpit to pull them back up. Hange, flushed from running, placed their phone in his hands with ill-contained excitement.

“Look at what I found!”

“Oi, what’s this—” Levi scanned the phone, his mouth running dry.

“I’m going to recruit this artist. For my comic.”

It was a sketch of a cat being patted by a person with messy, tied-up hair, their hands stroking its head.

“Don’t you think the person looks familiar? Isn’t the cat cute… remember how I told you I have one at home?” Hange released their brown hair from a voluminous ponytail, biting the rubber band in their mouth.

He swallowed. “I drew that.”

Hange’s mouth hung open. “You’re kidding!”

“Do I look like I make such shit jokes?”

“Personally, I find your shitty jokes very funny. This is exciting news! Why didn’t you tell me you’re an artist when I was trying to find one for my comic?”

Levi found her question preposterous. “You could easily find a better one. I’m inexperienced.”

“I’m also an inexperienced writer. I barely wrote one book and a few articles!”

“You’re a professor. You have the title for a reason. I just draw for fun.”

Hange spared him a baffled look. “Please. You have no idea how many great writers never become professors. And how some professors never write great books. I thought you of all people would know that a title doesn’t mean anything.”

“I thought you of all people would know that titles hold their value here, even if we think they’re stupid and don’t mean shit.”

“I know that, Levi. I’m saying, drawing for fun doesn’t make you inexperienced or unworthy of being the artist for my comic. Besides, I chose you before I even knew it was you!” Hange said triumphantly.

Locking the phone screen, Levi reiterated, “I draw for fun.”

“Then this will be our fun project!”

Levi’s pragmatism pulled the brakes. “I’m not about to dedicate my life to become a broke comic artist.”

“You won’t be broke.” Erwin slipped into their conversation as though he had always been there. It was uncanny.

“What do you mean?” Levi stared questioningly at Erwin.

“You’ll be paid for your work, Levi. Hange as well,” Erwin said simply.

“You’re paying us?” Hange and Levi asked, in unison. One, in disbelief, and the other, in delight.

“A publisher will be paying you. I’ve secured funding.”

Levi gritted his teeth. “A publisher wants to sponsor a comic that hasn’t even been written?”

“I told you, Levi,” Hange interrupted. “I’ve already submitted a draft!”

“Yes,” Erwin said.

Levi had so many questions. “How?”

“Because it’s a good story.”

“Did you bribe them? Threaten them?”

“It is a risk,” Erwin admitted.

“It’s a fucking gamble,” Levi emphasised. “Don’t know why you’re so invested in this comic.”

Hange had other worries. “Levi, did you think I wasn’t going to pay you?”

Levi hesitated. “I don’t know. Isn’t this just a fun side-project?”

Hange’s face came closer to his. With the enhanced proximity, Levi stopped breathing altogether. Their face was deadly solemn.

“Listen, Levi, creating art is hard work. Your hard work. Any artist deserves to be paid. It’s not because our relationship is transactional. It’s because it’s only right.”

Erwin added, “We’re not going to accept your art for free.”

Pushing Hange back firmly with his hands on their shoulders, Levi argued, “Plenty of people have access to my art online for free.”

“That’s your choice. We insist.” Hange grinned. “And we think we deserve to be paid too. Even I’m surprised that my project has early compensation.”

Part of Levi’s resolve ebbed away. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good enough for me!”

“First, you have to tell me what your story is.” Levi gathered up the last of his self-respect. “And if we’re going to be working together, I’ll need your number.”

Erwin raised an innocent eyebrow. “Wouldn’t you need mine too?”

“Stop teasing him, Erwin,” Hange said, grabbing the rubbish bag from Levi, struggling to balance its weight over their shoulders.

Just as Levi felt a shred of gratitude, Hange remarked, “What if he doesn’t agree to do the comic together?”

Patience running thin, Levi stomped on both their feet in a fit of unrestraint that diverged from his unaffected demeanour.

Eyes twinkling, Hange couldn’t help but feel immense glee at the prospect of working with Levi. What was probably Levi’s withheld strength made them certain that he only wanted to dirty their shoes, not bruise their toes. Like Hange would care about the cleanliness of their battered sneakers.

In front of an ordinary apartment door, Hange dug into the depths of their bag to fish out a ring of keys. The size of the ring was unprecedentedly big; the choice of keychain most definitely random, a freebie handed out to new staff that blatantly displayed the university’s name.

Without that much bribery of tea, bread, and friendship, Levi found himself standing beside Hange as they busied themselves in finding the key to their apartment. Erwin had bailed due to having another Important Meeting with Important People, even during a weekend, but encouraged Hange and Levi to take time to discuss the comic.

Hange hadn’t expected Levi to agree so readily to kickstarting the project, and with the generous reception Levi gave (a curt nod and a follow-up question), they thought it’d be best if they invited him over to their apartment. Just so he wouldn’t mistake Hange as a mere business partner. Now that would be upsetting.

Hange pushed the ludicrous speculation out of their head. Levi was first and foremost, a good friend. His bored appearance revealed glimpses of surprise, satisfaction, moodiness, and suspicion. Hange held on to these pieces with the determination to collect them all. Surely, Levi must have figured them out by now. This endless, unabashed interest Hange had taken in him.

“Why are we meeting at your place? Do you need to take a huge shit? Does the toilet at home have a better flush?”

Although Levi had no qualms about visiting Hange’s apartment, he found it unnerving to have a work discussion in someone’s living quarters. It felt too intimate, too casual. He wasn’t sure if he could handle being sucked in further into Hange’s life. They asked so many questions, yet barely answered any about themselves.

Whether intentionally or not, Hange was someone shrouded in mystery to Levi. He couldn’t ask questions either—he wouldn’t—because he was unaccustomed to expressing himself in front of people. More than that, he could envision Hange’s sharp wit poking a clean hole through his muted facade. “You’re interested in my life, Levi?” Damn that four-eyes for being so perceptive. Or was he so easy to read?

“It’s more fun,” Hange said, eventually stuffing the correct key into the keyhole, a smooth click welcoming them. “Plus, I want to introduce you to my friends! Part of the reason why I took up the position at this university.”

“Friends?” Levi asked, slipping out of his shoes to step into the apartment.

“Hange!” A voice rang, and Hange was wrapped in a hug.

“Onyankopon! I saw you yesterday—”

“Three days ago, to be exact, since you always sleep over on the lovely desk at the university.” A smooth voice entered, coming from a woman standing comfortably against the wall.

As the tallest body let go of Hange, it allowed Levi to take in the congenial features of a man whose shoulders rivalled Erwin’s towering, well-built stature. While Erwin’s smile was measuredly cordial, Onyankopon’s was candidly sincere. Watching Hange and Onyankopon, Levi felt as though he were intruding into a family reunion that had invited the entire neighbourhood. Here, he was the guest who came for the free flow of food and drinks.

“I’ve missed you too Pieck!” The woman named Pieck ruffled Hange’s hair, offering them an embrace.

Hange pulled Levi by the elbow, pointing to the new people. “Meet my roommates and college friends, Onyankopon and Pieck!”

“Hi,” Levi said, uncertain as to what else he could affix his terse greeting with. Hange resolved that predicament for him, going into further details about their friends.

“Onyankopon is a researcher and engineer! I can’t tell you the technical specifics of what he does, though, I always get them wrong. Oh, and he’s religious, but he won’t try to convert you.” Onyankopon nodded, affirming Hange’s unflattering introduction.

“Pieck… Pieck is a gardener, florist, and avid gamer! That’s why she’s always bent over, whether it’s tending to her plants or her high score in front of the monitor.”

“It’s not why I need the crutches though,” Pieck said. Hange squeezed her shoulders in response.

“Seems like my friends are all nerdy. Maybe that’s why I like them?” A sheepish smile graced Hange’s lips.

Onyankopon gestured towards Hange, imitating their dramatic flourish. “And this is Hange Zoe, the nerdiest of them all. Obsessed with words. Recently obsessed with science fiction. They’re always reading or writing, and once they start on something, their butt doesn’t leave the chair.”

Levi’s eyes flitted around the apartment—it was relatively tidy, with a couple of framed photos and artworks. A blanket on the couch made it homely enough. His inspection didn’t miss Hange’s notice.

“Like what you see?”

“It’s neat,” he replied.

“That’s a compliment!” Hange took care to disclose this to their two friends.

“All your previous partners don’t take off their shoes, Hange. I hope he isn’t one of those.” Pieck said, using their crutch to relocate Hange’s haphazard shoes to a corner, flipping them the right side up. Levi liked her already.

“That’s gross,” Levi said apathetically, wiping away the horrifying image of dirt-smeared carpets and tiles creeping into his consciousness.

“He’s very clean, don’t worry,” Hange said easily. “Some might even say it’s his obsession.”

“I’m the cleaner at the university.” Onyankopon and Pieck turned towards Hange with patented disapproval.

“Levi, you know that’s not what I meant.”

“I think we’ll make good friends,” Pieck said, bemused.

Hange beamed at Levi. “You’ll love Pieck! She’s really quiet most of the time, just like you. Not to mention she pretends that she hates me. Just like you.”

“Good to know,” Levi said, enjoying the banter a bit too much.

“Hange says she’s going to get you to draw me, as a titan,” Pieck said, evidently sceptical.

“What’s a titan?”

“The giant, naked people I told you about, Levi! They’re called titans!”

“Why are they called titans?”

Hange landed on the sofa with a plop, patting the seat beside them for Levi to sit. “In Greek mythology, titans are immortal giant gods who were banished to the underground.”

Levi, who had little knowledge of Greek mythology, made a mental note to search for references online.

“Therefore, the titans are kind of like vengeful giant gods from the underground who have come to earth to wreak havoc on what the gods have built, which is human civilisation, basically.”

“Basically, I am wonderful enough to be titan-material,” Pieck drawled, propping their crutch at the side of the couch, sliding onto the cushions.

“A special titan that walks on all fours! Um, that’s the plan for now,” Hange said brightly.

Onyankopon, who had been content with listening, clapped his hands together in sudden realisation. “Hange, now that you’re finally home, you can take a shower.”

“I should, right?” Hange scratched their head, feeling the slickness of unwashed neglect.

Levi crinkled his nose as Hange reluctantly made their way to the bathroom. “That’s disgusting.”

“And here you are, still.” Pieck’s amiable statement prickled at his skin like a light warning before impending exposure.

“Hange must really want to make a good impression if they’re showering now,” Onyankopon said, chuckling to himself.

“It’s good to finally meet you.” Onyankopon pushed a newly made cup of tea towards Levi, with the steady confidence that could only come from having known prior that it was the beverage that Levi would desire. “Make yourself at home.”

Levi said his thanks, to the hospitality of two people he scarcely knew, and to Hange, who likely told them about the tea.

Cold water blasted them in the face, as Hange became cognizant of the necessity of showering more regularly. It wasn’t like they thrived in the dirt. Hypothetically, showering wasn’t that troublesome. The shower kept forgetting itself until it was three days later and Hange stank with regret and mild self-loathing. Still, the shower felt good, giving them new clarity about the fact that they had invited Levi into their inner social circle. How would he fare? Would he be uncomfortable? Hange massaged shampoo into their hair, recalling their conversation with Pieck and Onyankopon.

After much elaboration on adapting to a new university, their visits to an amazing bakery, and the fostering of daily encounters with new friends, Pieck had caught on that every other sentence from Hange contained a sliver of Levi-sized anecdotes. The new university was so much bigger than the one Pieck, Onyankopon, and Hange had attended together; it stretched endlessly, and Hange estimated that Levi would have walked 393700.7874 steps to clean just the faculty building. The bakery near the university was fragrant, its selection marvellous, and choosing a new bread for Levi every day was a tremendously delightful task. Moreover, Hange had met so many unique characters since getting to know the people in their faculty, people like Levi whose abhorrence for social etiquette was admirable, and with whom she was eager to share their mornings and lunches. Together with Erwin, of course.

Pieck let out a tinkle of a laugh at Hange’s obliviousness. “Why are you friends with Levi?”

Thinking hard, Hange answered, “I don’t know if he thinks of us as friends.”

“Well, friendship status aside, how’s he like?”

“He’s kind. He doesn’t sound like it, but he’s kind.”

“That’s nice. How’s he kind?”

Confusion coloured Hange’s usual confidence. “Hmm. It’s gut-feeling, I guess.”

“That’s unlike you, to rely solely on instincts,” Onyankopon said, stroking his chin. Hange was a person with an abundance of rationale, a reason for everything, with justification for any ideas. Their reasoning this time fell flat.

Pieck prodded on. “You said that he doesn’t sound kind. Then what does he sound like?”

“Grumpy, sarcastic, serious. He looks like he’s annoyed with everyone. Most people find him scary, I suppose? It’s like he wants people to think he’s an asshole.”

Pieck perked up. “Oh, so you’ve become enamoured with broody, misunderstood people who’re rough around the edges?”

“Pieck, come on, I’m not writing my own romantic trope! I don’t know… he’s a good person. I can tell. He doesn’t say much though.”

“You’re a mind-reader now?”

Hange ignored her. “His art… it’s so evocative. Melancholic. Hopeful. Angry.”

“What was the artwork you last saw of his?”

“A cat,” Hange said immediately.

Onyankopon brought Hange back to reality. “What about him? What do you like about him? Not his art.”

Hange pursed their lips. “Do good people need to prove themselves to show that they’re good?”

“There could be reasons as to why you’re so adamant about his golden character,” Onyankopon said.

“He’s reliable. And his shit jokes aren’t so bad once you get used to it.” Hange surprised themselves with that comment—Levi’s relentless toilet humour was infecting their brain. The corrosive force of the word “shitty” had already moulded itself permanently into their vocabulary.

Gazing up at the ceiling, Hange bent their arms behind their head. “It’s hard to find people to truly get along with.”

Onyankopon and Pieck shared a knowing look.

With their eyes trained to the white ceiling plaster, Hange mumbled on, “it would be nice if he’d talk more openly about what he’s feeling. It’s all guesswork and I’m afraid I’m constantly reading him wrong.”

“Maybe you should take your own advice…” Onyankopon said gently.

“But I do talk about my feelings!”

“Monologuing in your room and reposting vague lines of poetry and sending us memes to cope with your avoidance is not the same as talking about your feelings,” Pieck said, spending the subsequently long moment of silence to snip off a yellowed leaf from the potted Monstera deliciosa next to the kitchen counter.

“Wow.” Hange, for once, had nothing to muster.

Onyankopon’s approach was less incisive than Pieck’s. “You know, I don’t think you need a reason to be friends with someone. If he’s making you happy, I think it’s a good sign.”

“Thanks, Onyankopon,” Hange said gratefully.

“But Pieck’s right about you being deliberately evasive with your own emotions. Introspection shouldn’t be so strenuous, right? Don’t you write about your characters’ internal turmoil often?”

“It’s different when you’re reflecting for yourself,” Hange contended.

“We’ll see how Levi’s like anyway, when we meet him,” Pieck said, grabbing the scissors, going towards another deadened leaf.

“Don’t bully him!”

Another snip. Another leaf fell. “Isn’t he supposed to be scary?”

Hange smiled wryly. “But you two are scarier.”

[ruby-whistler]

Your c!dream post came on my dash and while I can definitely agree with the main point (torture is wrong no matter who it happens to) some of the contents of that post were a bit bothering to me.

the fact that you implied that your concerned for people who really hate c!dream and therefore see the torture as payback is really crossing a line. I really hope I misinterpreted that because it sounds like your implying that you think those people would dehumanize people in real life. That is a big assumption to make my friend, not something you can just throw around because you see someone talking bad about a character you emphasize with.

And like I said, I’m saying that while agreeing with your main point. I can say that your right about that being something we shouldn’t do while also knowing that this is about a Minecraft roleplay revolving around a character who canonically abused a 17 year old. The accusation your making is not something you should throw around. Just like people shouldn’t accuse Dream apologists who say bad stuff about c!tommy of being real life abuse apologists. There’s a huge difference about being attached to a character and saying something dumb and doing these things irl.

Also I thought we were past referring to lmanburg as colonization? I’m not sure if that’s what you were doing but That’s a real thing that effects people and not something you can just pin on a couple of white streamer men roleplaying. Someone more equipped then me can explain why they are very much not comparable at all, and why it’s bad to compare it, ill probably butcher it. I saw a good post about it somewhere.

And then onto the stuff that’s more story based and doesn’t matter as much:

- dream very much did plan to keep tommy in the prison cell for life, like I’m pretty sure he flat out said it or at least very heavily implied it during the confrontation, someone probably has a clip.

- I can agree that Sam wasn’t manipulated by dream, but he does have trauma from him, in fact it’s a big part of his arc. Dream would brag about what he did to tommy in exile, laughed in his face after killing tommy, and often screamed at him threatening to kill him as well. It affected sam greatly and is what started his spiral.

- There are other things in your post that I disagree with to some extent but honestly debating lore things isn’t what I’m here for. So we can agree to disagree. I’m not really to concerned about the lore stuff.

just like you were talking about being careful about what you are saying about c!dream because it can hurt people, I will also say to be careful in what you say about c!dream in his favor because it can also hurt people. Please do not forget he very canonically abused, murdered, and threatened to murder teenagers. That’s a touchy subject, especially because it was displayed in such a raw manner. Is he deserveing of abuse because of it? Of course not. Is he unworthy of growth or change? Of course not. Does that mean people have to forgive him or like him or sympathize with him? No. No one is morally required to sympathize with a character, as long as your not saying gross things about them. ( like claiming that they deserve torture! )

Someone saying something in the heat of the moment about a character who reminds them of their abuser does not justify calling them real life dehumanizers, or claiming they are prone to it. It’s not cool. And, I and feel like In liking c!dream (or any character who has done something really morally wrong) you have to make sure to be respectful towards people who have been in those situations. You can like a character without excusing their actions. Not saying your doing that, just a blanket statement.

Also, please take care of yourself. If seeing people criticize or say bad things about a character you like is causing you genuine distress, please take a break. I tend to hyperfixate and project and I know that sometimes it can be a really harmful thing. It helps a lot to take a deep breathe and step away for a few minutes. This is a reminder to everyone else as well to always tag crit. And to clarify, I’m not trying to like drag you through the mud for anything I disagree with in your post. Like trust me I get heat of the moment reactions and not completely thinking through everything you write down. And just blatantly not knowing that something isn’t cool to say. I just want to make sure it’s known that hey, maybe people shouldn’t say _.

If there’s anything in my post that’s wrong I apologize, I’m open to respectful criticism. And also just to finish this off, I know getting critical asks can be upsetting, so if you are genuinely made upset, angry, or anxious by this ask, please just leave it be. Don’t respond, or take a breather before you do. I’m saying this because like I said I just came across this post, I don’t know you or how you tend to react to things so I don’t want to start a huge thing. Just giving my thoughts and crit.

And also because having people yell/be really rude at me makes me very genuinely anxious! Even if it’s anon. Please keep that in mind if you respond (you don’t have to, it’s up to you) You can respond and disagree however much you like, just please don’t be a jerk about it cause I’ll probably cry lol (seriously tho like I said I’m sensitive)

Alright, so first as a quick disclaimer, I’m going to out a summary of the original post’s points, just to ensure that we’re on the same page;

The post does say:

- don’t dehumanize c!Dream because it continuously hurts people who relate to and/or sympathize with him, also dehumanization in general is an inherently wrong mindset

- don’t attack people who sympathize with him because he’s a victim of abuse besides other things

The post never says:

- you cannot hate c!Dream and not sympathizing with him is wrong

- the things c!Dream has done are to any degree excused

- don’t dehumanize c!Dream because he’s a good person

- people who dehumanize c!Dream are real life abuse apologists

If you read the post and didn’t get these points from it, i advise you to reread it as I made pretty much all of these abundantly clear.

I absolutely never said anything about real life abuse apologism. I continuously put (fictional) in front of things to make that point. I don’t know how you got that from the post.

Dehumanization is wrong. Dehumanization of fictional characters on a large scale to the point where people will excuse his abuse is wrong and it hurts people and I will speak out about it. It doesn’t mean people will dehumanize people irl or that they are prone to it, but it’s still wrong.

I never said L’manberg was colonization. I said some people who have had their country colonized relate to him because he had his home torn apart and is desperate to return it back to its original state. This is a completely valid reason to relate to him as it is a pretty big part of the character.

He said he would “put him in the prison”. I don’t remember him saying it would be forever, but he could’ve said that, however I’d like a clip first. He never said he would be stored in the inhumane, main cell, and it makes a lot more sense that he wouldn’t be in there 1) because Dream said it was only a security measure 2) the prisoner was supposed to be able to move around the prison.

I don’t care that the abuser was “traumatized” by the abuse victim telling him of his actions. If I was being tortured mentally and mistreated and neglected physically by a person who hates my guts for weeks I too would probably threaten him. It didn’t start his spiral. His spiral was caused by corruption and possibly hatred, not being “hurt” by c!Dream. c!Dream didn’t cause himself to be abused, that was fully c!Sam’s decision, and saying otherwise is victim blaming (not saying you did that, just putting this point out here).

I do not forget the bad things he’s done. I was there. I saw it. I hated him for it. I still sympathize with him. I still believe he deserves better. I still believe he deserves to get better. I 100% agree with the point that it’s wrong to say someone is required to feel sympathy, as long as they don’t dehumanize him and harass people who do. That was the literal point of the post.

I am one of the many c!Dream fans who get constantly triggered because of how overwhelming the dehumanization is in the community. It’s not being hypersensitive, and I really hope you’re not implying that. It’s a very real issue that should be solved so that people don’t have to “take breaks” because of it.

I don’t care if people hate him or criticize him. I genuinely couldn’t care less. He did disgusting things. I’m used to it. But it is normalized in the community to say stuff about the character that is genuinely triggering, and would be to anyone if people were saying it on a large scale about their favorite character.

Hope this didn’t come off as too aggressive, I have anxiety and I didn’t want to let my feelings bleed into this because that wouldn’t be good for me. Wish you a nice day.