#how do i fit everyone i care about in here

[pucksandpower]

Malpractice

Franco Colapinto x physician!Reader

Summary: when you agreed to join your cousin Lily at the Las Vegas Grand Prix to watch her boyfriend race, you didn’t realize the weekend would end with you saving a rookie driver with a concussion from the dangerous schemes of his team

The Williams Racing garage is chaos incarnate. The crash replay loops on the screens above the engineers’ heads, showing Franco’s car slamming into the barriers. The sound of carbon fiber shattering is so vivid in your mind it might as well have happened right next to you.

The footage is brutal.

50G.

The kind of impact that makes your stomach twist into knots. Franco couldn’t even get out of the car by himself, the marshals had to haul him out like a ragdoll. And now, the garage feels like it’s on edge, everyone pretending they’re not watching for updates while they pretend to keep working.

“He’s at the medical center,” someone mutters behind you. “They’re checking him out now.”

Good. He needs checking out. A crash like that doesn’t leave you unscathed, no matter how tough you think you are.

You stand off to the side, arms crossed tightly over your chest, watching as engineers, mechanics, and media relations people swirl around each other, avoiding eye contact but buzzing with nervous energy. Lily had invited you here as Alex’s guest, but you feel completely out of place, like you’re intruding on a family argument you weren’t supposed to overhear.

Then you hear it.

“He’ll be fine to race tomorrow,” James Vowles says, his voice low but carrying just enough weight to reach your ears.

You blink, sure you’ve misheard. But no, he’s standing near a huddle of engineers, speaking in clipped tones like this is just another logistical problem to solve. “We can’t find a replacement on such short notice,” he continues, “so we need him in the car. No excuses.”

Your jaw drops. You can’t help it. “You’re joking,” you blurt out.

James and the engineers freeze, turning to you like you’re some alien creature who’s wandered into their secret lair.

He recovers quickly, offering a tight smile. “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met-”

“Are you serious right now?” You step closer, fueled by disbelief. “He crashed into the wall at 50G. He couldn’t even stand up without help. And you think it’s a good idea to put him back in the car tomorrow?”

James’ expression hardens. “Miss, this isn’t your concern-”

“Actually, it’s Doctor. And it is my concern if you’re planning to endanger someone’s life for a race.” Your voice rises, but you don’t care. Let them stare. Let them glare. You’re not about to stand by while they make decisions like this.

“Look,” James says, trying for diplomacy. “The FIA medical team will clear him if he’s fit to race. That’s their job, not yours.”

“And what if they’re wrong?” You demand. “What if he has a concussion? What if he gets in that car and something happens because you couldn’t be bothered to prioritize his safety?”

Before James can reply, the garage door creaks open, and Franco stumbles in.

All eyes snap to him. He’s leaning heavily on his physiotherapist, his helmet dangling from his other hand. His usually sharp, confident features are slack, his eyes glassy. He looks like he’s barely holding it together.

Your chest tightens. He shouldn’t even be standing right now, let alone back here in the thick of it.

The physiotherapist helps him over to a chair, and Franco slumps into it with a groan. “I’m fine,” he says, though his words slur slightly. “Just a little — what’s the word? Shaken up.”

You don’t even think. You march over to him, the rest of the garage fading into the background.

“Franco,” you say firmly, crouching in front of him. “Look at me.”

His unfocused eyes wander to your face, and he frowns like he’s trying to remember where he’s seen you before. “Do I know you?”

“No, but I’m about to save your life, so let’s call it even,” you say briskly. “How many fingers am I holding up?” You hold up three.

He squints at your hand. “Uh … six?”

Your heart sinks. “Okay. Follow my finger.” You move your hand slowly in front of his face, but his gaze wobbles, unable to track it.

“Wow,” he mutters, blinking rapidly. “You’re really pretty.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from reacting. “Franco, focus. Do you feel nauseous? Dizzy?”

“Both,” he admits, leaning back in the chair. “But it’s fine. I’ve felt worse.”

“It’s not fine.” Your voice is sharper than you intend, but you can’t help it. “You have a concussion. Probably a severe one. You need to rest and recover, not get back in the cockpit tomorrow.”

He grins lazily, his head lolling to the side. “Are you my MILF angel?”

Your brain short-circuits. “What?”

He waves a hand vaguely in your direction. “You’re older, right? Like … a doctor? And hot? Definitely an angel. My MILF angel.”

Someone behind you chokes on a laugh. You whip your head around to glare, silencing them instantly.

Turning back to Franco, you take a deep breath. “Okay, you’re clearly not in your right mind, so I’m going to ignore that. But you need medical attention. Real medical attention. Not whatever half-assed clearance the FIA is going to give you.”

He reaches out clumsily, his hand brushing against your arm. “You’re bossy. I like that. Are you the same way in bed?”

You grab his wrist gently but firmly, lowering it back to his lap. “Franco, listen to me. I’m serious. You can’t race tomorrow. You could get seriously hurt. Do you understand that?”

He stares at you for a long moment, his expression oddly thoughtful. Then he smiles faintly. “You’re really worried about me, huh?”

“Yes,” you say without hesitation. “Because someone has to be.”

For a second, something shifts in his eyes, like he’s seeing you clearly for the first time. But then he blinks, and the moment is gone.

“You’re nice,” he murmurs, slumping further into the chair. “I like you.”

You sigh, glancing over your shoulder at the Williams team members still hovering nearby. “He needs to go back to the medical center. Now.”

James steps forward, his face a mask of polite concern. “I appreciate your input, but we’ll handle it from here.”

You stand, squaring your shoulders. “No, you won’t. Because if you try to put him in that car tomorrow, I’ll make sure everyone knows exactly what you’re doing. And trust me, the media will eat it up.”

James’ jaw tightens, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he nods to the physiotherapist. “Take him back.”

As the man helps Franco to his feet, he glances back at you, his lopsided smile still in place. “Don’t go anywhere, pretty doctor. I’m gonna marry you.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, fighting the urge to scream. “You’re definitely not racing tomorrow,” you mutter, more to yourself than anyone else.

But as you watch him stumble out of the garage, you can’t shake the feeling that this fight isn’t over yet.

[the-secret-keeper]

Where MC Tells the Obey Me Brothers About How Horribly They Were Treated in Twisted Wonderland

This was requested by @sweetlicorice I hope you like it! It was taking longer than expected, so I only did the brothers, but I will do the dateables in a part 2, don't worry.

TW: Talk of being Overworked and Burnt Out, Abuse of Power, Very Angry Demons (but not at you), mental breakdowns, missing a pet (he's not dead, don't worry), and nightmares

Reader is referred to as MC by the characters (though I don't think they say it here) and MC is gender neutral, but this is mostly in second person, so for the majority of the story you'll be referred to as 'You' by the narrator.

Characters include: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Asmodeus, Satan, Beelzebub, and Belphegor

Could be read as romantic or platonic

This will be long, so the stories under the cut

This is organized by character, with a bit of context at the beginning. Enjoy!

First, it was a coffin. You were kidnapped by a horse-drawn hearse, woke up in a coffin, in another world. A world of magic, and wonder, but also one of pain, as you quickly learned. But you met people. You made friends, allies, and you were learning, even if you couldn't use magic.

And then, it was you landing rather harshly in a room that looked like an old-time, very fancy courtroom, surrounding by tall and intimidating looking young men. It was soon explained to you that you were in the Devildom, and were an exchange student, one that would be living with the Seven Deadly Sins for your own protection.

You didn't know what to feel. Gratitude for the much improved living conditions? Fear for living with a bunch of demons and going to school with demons that would likely have no qualms with snapping you in two if you stepped out of line? Sadness for the friends that you don't know how to get back to? Upset for being forced to leave the place you were finally starting to feel like you fit in at and having to leave Grim? It was a whirlwind inside, and for a time, that's where it stayed. Kept inside.

Slowly, the Devildom revealed to have similar problems as Twisted Wonderland, in the fact that it seems everyone in power here, aside from Diavolo and Barbatos, would like you to die.

Most of the brothers tried to kill you. One of them succeeded! Congrats to them you guess, though, no offense to Belphie, you don't think it was particularly hard for a demon to kill a human.

Through all of this, you got closer to those you were staying with, even forgiving Belphegor after everything. It only made sense that eventually, what happened to you, you started to open up to them about your past. About those that you met and bonded with, all that had been put onto you, and all that was different.

Lucifer:

You were in his office, as you did somewhat often. It was quieter in there than it was in most of the house, and no one would bother you if you were with him. Plus, sometimes he would let you take care of some of his paperwork, just the stuff that wasn't too sensitive or important, but it lightened his load a bit.

"Why do you insist upon helping me?" He asked, not looking up from his paper, as you looked at your own.

"I'm used to doing more work, and if it makes your job easier, then I don't mind." You shrugged.

"More work? Do you mean like a job?" He asked, somewhat curious. Your file had listed a lot, but you had, apparently, been missing for a while when you were brought to the Devildom, so he didn't know what you had been doing before coming there.

"Something like that." You vaguely answered, finishing a paper.

"I am always here if you need to talk." He glanced up at you, as you pulled out your homework instead.

"Thank you."

A comfortable silence fell over the you two. The ambiance of the fireplace, paired with the low volume on the record he was playing, along with the light scratching of his pen, was calming. His office was always dimly lit, enough to see easily, but also darker than the average room.

It was a quiet environment that reminded you of the days when you would sit in the office of Crewel, him taking pity on the amount of work shoved on you and attempting to help at least a little. Or the days when you would study with Ace and Deuce in the Heartslabyul Common Room, Riddle sitting nearby doing his own paperwork, and Grim resting lazily along your shoulders. It was comforting, yet sad, at the same time.

"Back, in the place where I was," you started softly after a few moments of silence, "there was more that was required of me."

"In what way?" He asked, and though you couldn't tell, off in your own world, he had stopped doing his paperwork to focus on what you were saying, fully enraptured in wanting to know your backstory.

"The headmaster, at my last school, his name was Dire Crowley. And he was terrible at his job." You laughed bitterly. "I showed up there one day, against my will, and practically started running the place once he thought I could handle it, or when he was certain I wouldn't complain." You glared at your paper, thinking back on all that was unfairly thrown at you.

"Like what?"

"Paperwork, was the majority." You answered without thinking. "But there were.... others."

"Others?" He prompted after a few moments of a now, much tenser, silence.

"Your demon form is scary." You looked at him, making eye contact. "But it is not as scary as facing seven Overblots within the span of a year."

"Overblots?"

"The manifestation of out of control magic and strong negative emotions that result in the transformation of the magic user, and the creation of a sort of monster. The magic user loses control of their entire being, and it's very taxing on the magic user." Your eyes were glazed over as you seemed to recite the information with no emotion in your voice. "I don't blame them, for Overblotting, and losing control, the world is cruel. I do blame Dire Crowley, however, for making me responsible for dealing with them."

"That sounds dangerous, for someone without magic."

"It was." You agreed, still looking towards him.

Not at him, but through him, as if you weren't registering how much you were saying. This made him all the more concerned, as he got up and walked over to you, sitting beside you.

"I was also responsible for whatever Dire Crowley wanted me to do. Feed the fireplaces over winter break, find out why our sports players are getting injured, stop that one student from taking over the student body, house these people for this inter-school competition, and on, and on." You listed, beginning to spiral. "I practically ran that school. Me! A magicless human who had no idea what they were doing or where they were or how to handle what was happening to me. He stuck me in a shack, filled with mildew, and mold, that was covered in dust, infested with ghosts, and falling apart at the seams with a fire-breathing cat. And he didn't even make me a student at first!" You looked at Lucifer, tears pricking your eyes. "I was a janitor! And when another student got myself, Grim, and another student in trouble, he was going to throw me out! Onto the streets with no understanding of the world, how it functions, or anything at all!"

Lucifer nodded, trying to get you to calm down silently, wanting to hear about your past, even though it was painful.

"And he'd threaten me, Lucifer! He'd threaten my housing, my food budget, and I had no means of income! I couldn't pay for myself in any regard, I was completely dependent on him! I was his little puppet. The puppet of the 'oh so gracious Dire Crowley'." You began to sob as emotions started to overcome you, them all spilling out as you finally let yourself feel safe enough to feel these emotions. "I was so scared! About what would happen to me, and my friends. I didn't know what the next day would bring."

He brought you into his chest, hugging you tightly, and allowing your tears to stain his red vest. He let you sob and weep as you finally allowed yourself to process the emotions you'd been keeping inside this whole time. He kept his breathing even, trying to get you to match it subconsciously, and he gently rocked you, trying to calm you down as best he could.

"I miss Grim!" You cried out, into his chest. "I miss him so much that it hurts. I feel so anxious without him around."

He didn't ask who Grim was, but he knew it was someone important. He'd ask you about it when you were calmer, for now, he'd just let you cry to your hearts content. It had been a long time since someone had come to him, and allowed him to see them crying, but he didn't mind it so much when it was you. He took pride in being someone you felt safe enough to cry around.

No more paperwork got done that night, but he didn't care. You were more important at that point in time, and Diavolo would understand, he assured you of this, when you tried to apologize for taking up his time and crying on him. He brought up that Diavolo would be more mad if he hadn't comforted you, which made you laugh. You were so tired from crying that not long after you calmed down, you drifted off in Lucifer's arms, on the couch in his office.

Mammon: 

You were hanging out in Mammon's room one night, trying to help him study. Mammon was a lot smarter than a lot of people gave him credit for, the main issue you were having was the effort in which he was putting in. Which was zero. He was much more interested in his video game than his homework, despite the fact that Lucifer had threatened to string him up from the ceiling should he not get a satisfactory grade.

It was almost nice, how familiar this felt. The arguing with him about studying gave you a nostalgic feeling, for when you would study with your First Year friend group, and you would try to pry Ace away from his video games. It was never effective, much like now, but the nostalgia made you keep trying to convince him.

Mammon himself didn't seem to notice the effect this was having on you, too focused on his video game. Not that you cared, better for him to remain oblivious that try to pry your secrets out of you.

You sighed, closing the textbooks that you had brought in, accepting the fate of his grade, and making a mental note to find a spot to at least try to hide him from Lucifer. You watched as he played the game for just a few more minutes before you crawled over, sitting beside him as he played, watching the screen.

"Why're ya so good at homework in the Devildom anyway?" He asked, in the blunt way he normally does.

"Diavolo adjusted my curriculum because I don't know much about the Devildom, so I get assignments that are easier." You admitted, leaning against him, your head resting on his shoulder. "I appreciate it, my last headmaster wasn't nearly so accommodating." You mumbled bitterly, thinking back on that incompetent headmaster.

"Really? How's that?" He asked, only half-paying attention, as he spam-clicked the button on the controller to his video game.

"Eh, don't think too much about it. Crowley was stupid, and though he claims he was gracious, he was really anything but. At least to me."

"What's 'at supposed to mean?" He asked before exclaiming nonsensical, frustrated sounds at his loss in the video game.

"I was basically his Barbatos, but I wasn't paid. Hell," You laughed mirthfully, "what money I was supposed to get was threatened, actually. More than once."

"Really?"

His attention was still diverted, and you noticed this. He was likely only wanting to hear your voice for background noise while he played, but you didn't mind so much. At least now you can say you told someone. Even if he wasn't listening.

"Yeah, Crowley threatened my food and housing budget more than once. And he'd push all his work onto me, even though I really shouldn't have had that much responsibility put on me. After all, I was someone without magic in a magic-teaching school, from another world. I didn't know anything." You shrugged lightly, trying not to move Mammon's arm too much, because your head was still resting on his shoulder. "I can't say I miss that part of it."

"What do ya miss then?" He asked, eyes still glued to the screen.

"My friends. I had a group of friends that were pretty tight-knit. Trauma bonded, more like it." You laughed. "And Grim. I miss Grim."

"Grim?"

"My cat."

"Ya sound like Satan."

"Grim was a special cat. He could use magic, and fly, and talk. You remind me of him sometimes." At that he finally paused the game to look at you.

"I, remind ya of... a cat?" He asked incredulously.

"Yeah." You smiled, laughing lightly. "He was sarcastic, and demanding, and greedy. He called me Henchman, you call me Human." He rolled his eyes. "But underneath your... bravado, is a very nice person, who cares a lot. Grim and I... we only had each other. So it just makes sense that we bonded. I miss him, a lot. He used to sleep in my bed, and he'd always be there with me. I've been having trouble sleeping without him. It just feels like there's something missing." You admitted in a soft and sad tone. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

"I'll be yer Grim 'til we can convince Diavolo or Barbatos, or maybe Solomon to get yer cat." He said quietly, rubbing your upper arm. "Ya can sleep in here whenever ya need, ok?" You nodded. "Wanna watch a movie?" You smiled at him, nodding once more, as he turned the TV to one of the bajillion streaming services the family all pay for, because they share, and arguing with you about the best movie to watch.

Leviathan:

Leviathan was out in public with you, having gone to an anime themed event at a cafe in the Devildom. He was so excited, that you just couldn't resist when he asked if you wanted to go with. It was nice to hear him rant and ramble about all the things that he was passionate about.

"There's a cat in the anime that waitress is from! And he's super cool!" Levi started. "He can fly, and talk, and use magic. He's also very stubborn, like a donkey. But he's a favorite in the fandom because of how cute he is."

"I know someone like that." You mumbled without thinking, your mind wandering to your feline friend.

"You do?!" He asked excitedly.

"Yeah." You smiled. "His name was Grim, and he used to live with me, back in the time before."

"Really? Tell me more!"

"He wasn't super smart, or very hard working. He used to call me Henchman, and demand cans of tuna. But when it came down to it, Grim was the one I could rely on the most. But, that might also be because we literally couldn't leave each other." You told him.

"You couldn't?"

"No. I don't have magic, and he did. I'm human, he was a cat. The headmaster of my last school decided to be 'oh so gracious'," you quoted, making air quotes around his catchphrase, "and make the two of us one singular student, allowing us to attend his magic school."

"That seems... dumb. To say the least."

"It was." You deadpanned, before the both of you laughed. "He was a bad headmaster. Towards the end of my stay there, I was practically headmaster, just because of how much work he pushed onto me because he could. But while I was at that school I made friends. And I had Grim. Even if the situation I was in was less than ideal." You smiled as the waitress delivered the food you ordered, with a bundle of silverware.

"Ah. I bet you'd prefer them to an otaku like me."

"Not true!" You defended, pointing your fork at Leviathan. "I like you plenty fine, Levi. You actually remind me a lot of my friend Idia. But," you laughed awkwardly, "at least you leave the house sometimes, and aren't afraid of confrontation. Or, at least, you're not afraid to confront some people. Like your brothers." You set your fork down, stopping your silent threat at Levi, that wasn't actually very threatening to him.

"He was an otaku too?"

"Yes indeed, and a master gamer to boot."

"Better than me?"

"It's hard to say." You shrugged. "The games you guys play are similar, but different. It's not a fair comparison." He seemed placated by this answer. "Your brothers remind me of a lot of my friends from there." You said vaguely.

"Do you miss them?"

"Yeah. They're my friends, of course I miss them. And it's not like I know if and when I'll be able to see them again." You explained gently. "I don't miss the work though. Diavolo was nice and assigned me a tutor and easier assignments until I get the hang of the normal work here. And no one makes me do any extra work, or threatens my food or housing. Well, Lucifer threatens punishments sometimes, but he would never threaten my food or housing, and I won't get punished as long as I do my best and behave." You rambled, smiling at how nice it was here, compared to it was in Twisted Wonderland. "Plus, I have all of you, and Diavolo, and Barbatos, and the other exchange students. I miss my friends from there, and I really wish that I had Grim here with me. But I am happy here." You beamed.

"Maybe if we ask Lucifer, he may know how to get your cat." Leviathan suggested, smiling lightly.

"I would love that. He acts like Mammon, but he feels like an emotional support cat. And, I bet Satan would seriously love having him here too."

"You know, we're all here. If you want to talk."

"I know." You glanced around. "What anime is that cosplay from?" You asked, gesturing at another waitress, changing the subject.

He glanced, and started beaming, immediately launching into a rant about the anime it's from, and the character themself. It was nice that he didn't question the change in subject. You'd tell Levi and the others all about what happened to you, and about what Twisted Wonderland was like. Eventually. Maybe.

Asmodeus:

Saying Asmo was flirty, was an understatement. Possibly the understatement of the century. And while he flirted and charmed nearly every being in existence, he did understand consent, and took every no at face value, stopping when asked. Of course, it's a rejection, so at the beginning you had to explain that no, you're not rejecting him as a person, you like him plenty fine as a person, you just don't always want to be flirted with.

He still did it, but when you asked him to stop he'd make a show of whining about it, but stopping nonetheless. It was annoying, but he did take your 'no' seriously, so in the end it was kind of worth it. Asmo was good for conversation, and he knew all the gossip, so he was nice to hang out with.

You had mentioned a handful of times that he reminded you of someone where you were from where you used to live. But all he ever said in response was that there was no one like him. Which is true, as no one else could truly embody Lust like Asmodeus does.

He was doing a skincare night with you, when you brought it up again.

"You know a lot about skincare already, it's quite impressive." He complimented.

"Yeah, had a friend who took it very seriously." You agreed.

"Is this the same friend that I remind you of?"

"Tis." You smiled, gently rubbing the moisturizer onto his face. "He was an interesting man."

"Interesting man? Interesting how?"

"He was insanely hard working, yet it seemed no one saw that." You started, taking a deep breath. "He was an actor, and social media influencer. And he was talented. Extremely talented. He worked hard to get where he was, but he had the means to get there."

"Anything else I should know about this person?"

"Well, he was good at potions. And like, just as good if not better than Satan and Solomon, good. He had the harshest study routine, but it was worth it. Never failed a potions class if he was tutoring me. He didn't have much time to do so, but I was always grateful when he did." You thought back on the memories fondly, smiling, as you stopped rubbing the moisturizer into his skin, and moving onto the next step. "His methods were.... intense, to say the least." Your smile became strained, remembering the VDC. "But, they got the results he wanted, so I guess he didn't see much issue with it."

"Intense in what way?" Asmo asked, noting your tenseness.

"I was appointed manager for a dance team, an interschool competition thing, you know how competitive people can get." You shook your head lightly. "They all came to live in my dorm because it was mostly empty. But, despite me being manager, he decided I needed to follow the same diet as everyone else. My friends said it was a 'we're all in this together' thing, but I thought he was just being unreasonable. I mean, come on, hexing my food? That's just wasteful. And he didn't even pay me back. I didn't get much money for food in general, because I was the magicless student, and there he went, just wasting what I had." You laughed mirthfully, remembering your anger at the situation, and your frustration.

"Well, in his defense, if he was just looking out for you."

"I would have no problems if that were the case, Azzy." You slightly chastised, but it was playful, and held no real bite. "I took your diet in stride, didn't I?" He nodded in acknowledgement. "I would've been fine with it, if that were the case. But he never paid me back for the food that he hexed, or replaced it. I didn't have much, so no one being able to eat those foods, it was wasteful. I mean, it's not like I got much money, if any, from the school for dorm food, like every other dorm."

"Why wouldn't you?"

"I was the magicless student. The errand person. The pushover. The unpaid therapist or headmaster. Depends on the day." You sighed. "The headmaster didn't want to have to rewrite the budget to factor in an extra dorm, when it only had two students in it, that really only amounted to one student."

"Wait, I thought you've mentioned before that you had a roommate."

"I lived with a fire-breathing, flying, talking cat named Grim, who could use magic, and several ghosts. I say technically one student, because the ghosts were faculty members, technically, but Grim had magic, and I didn't, but I was human and Grim was a cat. So, when I popped out of the woodwork, with no magic, no identification, no way to go home, and no clue about how this world worked, the headmaster was 'oh so gracious'," you mocked, "and put us both in a run down dorm, enrolled as a single student."

"Run down?"

"I mean Run Down. It was called Ramshackle, by other students, and it certainly lived up to it's name. The heater didn't work, I had to curl up with Grimm under every blanket I could find in that house. It was caked in mold and mildew, and dust, until Crowley cleaned it for the VDC. I injured myself more than once." You pointed to a scar on your forearm, where you'd hurt yourself in an attempt to fix up your dorm. "I am, honestly, very grateful, for the opportunity to stay here, in much better conditions. I do miss my friends, and I miss Grim." You admitted.

"Is that why you named that stuffed animal Grim? I thought you were just taking after Mammon in your greed."

"I miss Grim." You stated simply. "He was always with me. We were inseparable. We fought, we bickered, but at the end of the day, I knew if there was one thing, one being, I could rely on consistently, it was Grim. He was my ride-or-die. I named my stuffed animal after him, because I have a hard time sleeping without him. Even just, relaxing, can be hard. I miss him, and I don't know if he's ok. I genuinely, worry about him. And I miss him so much, that it's hard to fully put into words."

"I'm sorry." He offered, and you just smiled at him.

There was not much more Asmodeus could say. He couldn't provide you the comfort that you craved, as he was not your cat, nor could he get you your cat. So, he extended his sympathies, and access to his bed whenever you would like. For cuddles, or for more, he was always down for whatever.

He only hoped that his efforts to be there, and open for you, helped to heal you a little bit in the long run.

Satan:

Satan was nice to be around. He was curious, and he liked to know things and ask questions, so he did tend to pry into your past. But he was always good for book recommendations, and was always happy to discuss any book you wanted.

You found comfort in his fondness for cats, finding a kindred spirit in that regard. You didn't tell him about Grim, not wanting to get his hopes up about maybe meeting your beloved companion. He did notice your love of cats though, and had gotten you a giant cat plushie, as a gift.

You had named it Grim, and it lived on your bed. It was much quieter, and honestly, a bit boring compared to the real thing, but it was good for cuddling in the night when you couldn't sleep because you missed your furry friend. You were grateful that Satan had brought you just a bit of comfort in those moments, even if he didn't know it.

"I had a cat." You started one day when he started reading off cat facts enthusiastically after you had expressed the slightest bit of interest. "He was a rather interesting thing."

"Really? What was he like?" Satan liked to hear you talk about your past in general, but he was especially excited to hear about your cat.

"His name was Grim. And he was big, like 2 feet tall. He had a very distinct look about him. Grey fur, with a white chest," Satan nodded, listening intently, "bright, big, blue eyes. So round they almost looked scary sometimes. His ears, they had blue fire coming out of them, and his tail was shaped like a pitchfork. And he could use magic! He could breathe fire, and fly, effortlessly. He could talk too. Used to talk my ear off." You smiled fondly, happy to be able to talk about your favorite creature. "He'd call me Henchman, or Hench Human. He was a trouble maker. Mammon reminds me of him that way."

"Oh." Satan almost groaned.

"But much like Mammon, at the end of the day, push comes to shove, you can rely on him. That was one of the few things I knew for certain back then. Grim was the only one I could fully rely on. I had other friends, but Grim and I, we were inseparable. He was my best friend. He used to sleep in my bed with me, every night. I'm so used to it, it's honestly.... kind of hard to sleep without him." You admitted, laughing tiredly. "I miss Grim."

"Were you allowed pets, or familiars, at your last school?"

"No. No, I don't think we were." You answered after a moment of thought. "But Grim was a special case. He and I crashed the entrance ceremony. I wasn't supposed to be there, and got yoinked out of another world, but he was just straight up trespassing because he wanted so badly to go to that school, and become a great mage." You laughed at the memory. "He committed arson, I helped calm him down, and the rest is history. We weren't students, originally. We were janitors. The Headmaster only let us stay because I didn't have anywhere else to go, and I proved that Grim could be helpful."

"I thought you said you were a student?"

"I was. Half. I was half of a student." You smiled, taking a tired, yet fond, sigh. "I didn't have magic. But Grim did. So, Crowley determined that we would each be half of a student. He got us both into so much trouble, but he always helped me get out of it. I could always rely on Grim. Except in schoolwork," you admitted, laughing a little, "I was alone in that portion."

A million questions ran through his head, and you could tell the gears were turning. It was almost amusing, seeing him trying to decide on what topic to pick. Should he keep going about your cat? Pry about your headmaster? Ask about your clearly troubled past at this school?

He was quiet, but it wasn't tense, or awkward, just comfortable silence, as you patiently awaited his next question. You knew Satan would choose his words carefully, so as to not make you uncomfortable, so you had no fears. You really didn't want him to ask about Grim's homework habits though. Satan prioritized intelligence, and knowledge. You wanted him to have a good impression of Grim, since you thought the two would get along, despite Grim being similar to his older brother, Mammon.

It took him a few moments, you, peacefully sipping your favorite hot drink, as you waited patiently, reading your book, before he finally picked a topic.

"Was your headmaster, truly that bad?" He asked softly.

"His favorite trick to get me to do what he wanted, when I didn't want to, was to threaten me. My food budget, my housing budget, or even my security at the school. I had others I could rely on, should this happen. The other Housewardens tended to take pity on me when I would show up, practically begging for food, because Crowley wouldn't allow me to have any. They were good people. But I always made sure Grim had stuff to eat. I never let him suffer. He actually learned to share through this. But, a diet of tuna sandwiches, just isn't that good for your health. It was better than nothing though." You shrugged, not looking up from your book. You looked up, to see him looking at you, sadness painting his eyes. "I'm doing better now, Satan." You smiled.

"I don't want to pry, but I do have more questions." You took a deep breath.

"Can I answer them later?" You asked, to which he nodded.

"Take your time."

"Can you do me a favor?"

"Of course."

"Can you look through your books, to see if there's a spell, or an incantation, or a potion, or a ritual, that will help me get Grim? I'm worried about him, and, as you can see," you gestured to your eyebags, which Asmo had tried to hide using makeup, but it was late, so they were started to peek through, "being without him takes a toll. He's like my emotional support cat, you know? My sassy, lazy, loud, annoying, emotional support cat, that I love. And I miss."

"I'll see what I can do." He nodded. "No promises, but I'll look into it."

"That's all I ask." You smiled tiredly.

Beelzebub:

Beelzebub had eaten the majority of the fridge again, and it was your turn to make dinner. You sighed, as he looked at you guiltily. It was getting too close to when you absolutely needed to start cooking so you could serve dinner on time, so you couldn't go shopping for more. You just shook your head, and got to work taking everything out of the fridge and pantry, just to see what was left.

"I'm sorry." Beel offered. "I'll help you cook."

"I've done more with less." You said, not registering his offer, and looking over the ingredients that were left, as you had caught him before he could eat everything. "I just need some time."

"I didn't leave you much. I could go to the store, and get some more." He offered.

"Beel," You looked at him, smiling in amusement. "How much of what you get me would you eat on the way home?" He looked down guiltily once more. "I'm not mad," you assured, "really, I'm not. And I appreciate your offer of help. But I've got this." You smiled once more, before turning back to the ingredients, and picking up a few.

With what little you had, you'd started to make a large delicious meal. Beelzebub watched, in what could only be described as awe, as you stretched what you had into enough to feed the brothers, and something that tasted good. He still felt guilty about eating the majority of what you could've used to make dinner, but he was grateful you weren't mad, and he was curious as to how you knew how to make so little go so far.

After you served the brothers, you kept a little for yourself, and Beelzebub noticed. He noticed that you didn't take much, and when he tried to comment on it, you just winked at him, smiling. After dinner, he was designated for clean up, and you went into the kitchen to keep him company, as he had while you were cooking.

"How did you do that? There wasn't much left, but that was a good meal."

"My last school.... I didn't have much." You started vaguely. "My food budget was small, and often taken away, so I would take what little I was able to beg or barter for from the shop keeper, or the other Housewardens, or my friends, and I'd make it stretch. It helped that they often had some leftovers, especially Scarabia, with their feasts every week. And Jamil was a fabulous cook." You complimented, your mouth watering at the thought of his delicious and carefully prepared food. "But I digress. What I'd do is, I'd prepare meals in advance, as many as I could. I had to. Starvation sounded rather unpleasant, to me."

"It was that bad?"

"Not if I planned correctly." You smiled.

Beelzebub related to the feeling of hunger, and starvation. He was often brushed aside as always hungry because he's the Avatar of Gluttony. But the pain was always there, and it was hard to describe the pain aside from, hungry. You were always patient with him, even if he got grumpy because of his hunger, and now he was starting to see why.

If you understood the feeling of being hungry all the time, and starving to a painful point, it makes sense that you'd not get mad at him. It makes sense to him, that you'd be patient with him. He had always appreciated your patience and kindness, but he had never questioned it. Now he was starting to think he should've.

"Was it just you?"

"No. I had a cat with me. His name was Grim, and he was a lot like Mammon." You described cheerfully. "He mostly ate cans of tuna, which I could get for cheap at the school shop, they weren't super popular, and students tended to leave them at the shop after realizing they were the cheapest option of food I had." You laughed awkwardly. "It was a school of ruffians, and bullies, and people who hated me. But they had the decency to not want me to starve to death."

"You were hated?"

"By some. I wasn't popular, but I had my fair share of friends, don't worry." You assured. "I had the first years friend group, and the Housewardens, and the vice-housewardens and honorary vicehousewardens. Even a lot of the teachers liked me. And even if they didn't, I still had Grim. He was my best friend."

"Was?"

"He's still there, so he still is. We're just not together right now. It's like... it's like a part of me is missing, because he's my best friend." You tried. "And he's still there, but I can't see him, and I can't talk to him. I miss him, a lot. I think you'd like him." You smiled. "He used to sleep on my bed, every night. And he'd complain, and whine, and get both of us into trouble, but he was loyal to a fault, and he was always there when I needed him."

"Was your old headmaster that bad?"

"Oh yeah." You nodded enthusiastically. "He went on vacation so often, and it was more like I was the headmaster towards the end of my time there. What with the amount of paperwork and such I was handling in his stead. On top of schoolwork! And he put me in an old decrepit house, with a fire breathing cat. Granted, I asked for the cat to remain with me, but still. I'm sure he could've found somewhere else to put me."

"That sounds awful."

"It could be. But hey, think of it this way, now I'm prepared if you do this again." You teased. He nodded. "Don't feel too bad, Beel. You didn't even know I existed, you couldn't have done anything."

"I wish you would've told us."

"It's not easy to talk about." You admitted. "It's not like... I had the best experience with a lot of people there. I mean, Overblots, burnout, hunger, on top of basically being an unpaid therapist, an unpaid headmaster, and a full-time student? I was busy, and not every experience is a pleasant one. But it's a part of my life, and I wouldn't change it for anything. Because it was my experience." You explained. He nodded in understanding. "I think you'd like the people I met before. So many good cooks. And Lilia, who is on par with Solomon." You shuddered. "But there was also so many athletics clubs. I bet you'd really like Spelldrive." You smiled.

"Spelldrive?"

"Yeah!"

As you launched into an in-depth explanation of the sport, at least as you understood it, he simply watched. He was glad you'd opened up to him, and to hear that you weren't always alone. He would probably ask Satan if he could find anything about getting your cat for you. But for now, he was just happy to see you being comfortable enough to talk about your past.

Belphegor:

Belphegor liked to visit your dreams whenever you'd let him. They were always so interesting. They almost matched you, in that regard. As you were so strange in his eyes. He was very lucky, able to explore your good dreams. Dreams that told of friends, and adventure. Light hardship, sure, but mostly wonder. And happiness. Along with a cat that seemed to pop up in every dream. He didn't know that he only saw this because he didn't always tune into your dreams. Not every dream is a happy one.

It was one day, when you happened to be taking a nap in his general vicinity, that he drifted off, and entered your dream. He prepared himself for the bright light of the outside of Night Raven College, and for the happy smiling faces, or the sound of laughter, as he usually saw when he joined your in your dreams. What he wasn't expecting, was the fire. The screaming, the fear. He was prepared to watch on happily as you got to see your friends, the people you consider family, in your dreams, but instead, he only saw your terror.

He couldn't look away as you looked on in terror as eight towering figures, covering in black ink, with massive ink monsters behind them cornered you. He recognized some of these faces, they were those of your friends. They were friends, friends who would drive you to work harder, and do better, but would always be there to help in any way they could, if they could, when you asked.

But there was one face he was shocked to see, moreso than the friends. It was your cat. Your cat that had been changed into a hulking, massive beast, and it looked more wild than he had ever seen. It wasn't talking anymore, none of those smart ass comments he'd overhear, it was growling at you, roaring at you. It had never done that before.

Belphegor, unable to stand by as you feared for your life, even in a dream, quickly made his way to in front of you, his back to you.

"You need to wake up."

You heard him, but his voice was muddled in your panic, it sounded like he was under water. You looked at him in confusion.

"What?"

"Wake! UP!" He commanded.

You shot up, gasping for air, as you woke up. Belphegor followed not long after, making his way over, and sitting beside you, as you began to calm down from such a panic-inducing dream. He sat beside you until your breathing was under control, and you weren't shaking as much anymore.

You leaned onto him, your head resting on his shoulder, and feeling embarrassed. It wasn't often that you had these nightmares, but they were always intense and unpleasant when you did. You didn't think he knew, he'd never visited those dreams. It's not as though you were actively hiding it, you'd told him that you'd had nightmares before, but you were ashamed that he had seen them firsthand.

You both just sat in silence for several moments, before he spoke first.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked, softly.

"They don't know about the nightmares. I mean, my closer friends do, but those who the nightmares are about, don't. They don't need that."

"Why are they in your nightmares? And why did they look like that?"

"They lost control of their emotions, and their magic overwhelmed them. They weren't in control, when they looked like that. That was their anger, and sadness, their pain, that was in control of them, with their magic creating the ink monsters behind them." You explained, quietly. "I don't blame them, no one can be expected to hold it together for so long, but that doesn't make it any less unpleasant."

"And your cat?"

"I don't know why I have nightmares about him like that." You admitted. "I think it's because I miss him, and I'm scared of what will happen to him without me there."

"How long have you had these nightmares?"

"They started after the first Overblot, that's what they're called," you explained simply, "but they only got worse as more Overblots happened."

"Was there no one you could go to?" You shook your head.

"I couldn't go to Crowley, he was useless," you laughed humorlessly, "the teachers were nice, but they couldn't do anything. I told my friends, and they tried their best, but nothing ever really helped. Grim used to sleep on my bed with me, and that would chase the nightmares away pretty well, but," you trailed off.

"You don't have him with you now, so the nightmares are back with a vengeance?" You nodded, smiling a little at his wording. He wrapped an arm around you. "Do you miss him?"

"I do."

He knew you did, he knew that was a redundant question. But he wanted to hear it from you, as a sort of confirmation. He felt bad that you missed your cat, and he wished he could do something about it, but he knew he couldn't. So you two just sat in silence, comforted by the warmth of the room, and the calm atmosphere around the two of you.

He had always wondered why, or even how, you'd taken his actions in stride. How you'd forgiven him so easily. He knew now, that it was just in your nature after having gone through so much at your last school. He decided in that moment that he'd make an effort to be the person to hold a grudge on your behalf, to let people know that you may have forgiven them, but he certainly hasn't, and he hasn't forgotten what they've done to you. He didn't voice this, but he knew that you knew how he felt.

But for now, you two just sat there, comfortable, and warm. He wanted to apologize, and say he'd do everything in his power to get you your cat, but he didn't want to say that without a guarantee that he could do it. So there you sat, close, and comfortable.

"I'll chase your nightmares away." He offered, just barely a whisper, yet because of your proximity, you heard it.

"Thanks Belphie." You smiled tiredly, happy to hear that he would protect your dreams.

You drifted off not long after, Belphie following close behind. But he kept his word, and your nightmares didn't plague you after that, whenever Belphie could help it.

[44unique]

my skin on your skin, again and again

lando norris x franco colapinto

summary: lando skips the gp celebration, and franco joins him to offer comfort. their mutual attraction surfaces, leading to a night of vulnerability and passion.

warnings: explicit content

word count: 1426

a/n: this work was inspired by the results of the brazilian gp but it took me a while to finish it (im sorry ig), and people on twt keep shipping them so here it is another story :) english is not my first lenguage

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

It was Sunday night, and Max and the other drivers went out to celebrate after the race, everyone except Lando. He just wasn’t in the mood. Things hadn’t gone the way he wanted on the track, and even though some of it wasn’t his fault, he couldn’t shake the frustration.

Meanwhile, Franco wasn’t feeling as low as Lando, but he’d had a rough race too. He didn’t feel like mingling with the others at the party, so he chose to stay back in his hotel room instead.

Franco knew Lando had decided to stay behind, and he thought he might be able to cheer him up. To be honest, Franco had felt a spark of attraction ever since he had first met Lando. He liked the way Lando was so funny and kind, always the first to include him in every conversation and every plan the others made. He liked Lando.

But he wasn’t sure if Lando might feel the same way—or even if he’d feel something for another guy. Franco had heard rumors about Lando dating that girl, Magui or whatever her name was, and that only made him more insecure about how he felt. But he decided to ignore his doubts, take advantage of the small boost of confidence he was feeling, and go knock on Lando’s hotel door.

Lando opened the door after a while. His curls were wet, and he had a big old shirt that clearly didn't fit.

“Hello” Franco greeted, his boost of confidence beginning to fade.

 “I thought you went with the rest”

Franco denied “I didn't really want to go out”

Lando invited him in, his room was a bit messy and a bottle of wine on the table.

“Want a drink?”

The youngest nodded, just because he didn't feel like going out didn't mean he didn't want to drink.

“How did you know I was here?” Lando asked

“I saw you a little depressed, I assumed you weren't in the mood to go out”

Lando nodded, agreeing.

“Can I ask what has you like this?”

“The race didn't go as I wanted”

Franco was genuinely mesmerized watching Lando vent to him, he has always been positive and cheerful attitude, he had never seen him like that.

And deep down it scared him how much he liked being able to be there to cheer him up.

“What can I do to make you feel better?”

Lando looked at him with a raised eyebrow and raised the wine glass to his lips. "You can’t do much."

Franco clicked his tongue. “Come on, ask me anything”

Lando analyzed the situation. He had Franco in front of him, on his bed, trying to cheer him up and he had just told him that he could ask him for anything he wanted. And Lando certainly didn't feel like asking for what his mind wanted.

“Is what you want so difficult?” The youngest smirked, a playful glint in his eyes as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. Lando’s breath hitched, feeling as though the moment might just undo him.

And at that moment he didn't mind too much to leave the almost empty cup on the bed and jump on Franco to join their lips.

Franco didn't hesitate a second to give it back, if Lando regretted it at least he would be left with the experience.

But it wasn't like that, Lando didn't pull away, in fact he began to move his lips deepening the kiss, and Franco was clearly not indifferent, opening his mouth to give himself more access.

The bed had already several red stains due to the wine, but none of them cared, not when Lando was under Franco trying to pull him closer by the hair.

Franco was the first to break away, to try to catch his breath and get an explanation for what was happening. He looked directly into Lando's eyes, his pupils were so dilated that it was hard to distinguish their color.

“What's wrong?” Lando asked between gasps

“What are we doing?”

The curly-haired man's brow furrowed slowly. “Don’t you like it?”

“It's not that, I just don't understand why we're doing this”

“Cause I like you and I can tell that you like me too” Lando said, frustrated by the lack of action.

Franco sighed, relaxing a little, not too much, he couldn't when Lando was completely at his disposal with his messy curls and his lips and cheeks completely red.

He didn't think too much and joined Lando again in a battle for who had control between their mouths, he knew he wouldn't regret it. And if Lando for some reason did, the memory would be eternally in his mind as one of the best moments of his life.

Franco’s hands roamed over Lando’s chest, his fingers brushing against the smooth skin, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath his touch. Lando’s breath hitched when Franco’s lips found his neck again, kissing along the sensitive skin just below his jawline. A low moan escaped Lando as he tilted his head back, giving Franco better access, urging him to continue.

The tension between them was palpable, both of them needing more. Franco’s hands moved lower, skimming down Lando’s sides, pulling at the waistband of his pants. Lando’s breath caught, his body instinctively arching toward him, as he pulled Franco back into another deep kiss.

Lando broke the kiss, gasping for air, his hands pulling at Franco’s shirt, desperate to feel skin on skin. Franco didn’t waste any time, quickly stripping off his shirt and tossing it aside. Lando’s hands roamed over his chest, tracing the muscles he had only imagined touching. They shared a heated, hungry kiss, their mouths moving together as if they couldn’t get enough of each other.

Lando’s hands gripped Franco’s shoulders, pulling him down onto the bed, the sheets tangled beneath them. Lando’s legs wrapped around Franco’s waist, pulling him closer, grinding against him. Franco groaned, his body responding instantly, the friction between them driving him wild.

With a quiet growl, Franco moved lower, his lips trailing down Lando’s chest, kissing along the line of his collarbone, his breath hot against Lando’s skin. Lando shivered, his hands pushing at Franco’s hair, urging him to continue. He didn’t need to be asked twice. Franco kissed his way down, finally reaching Lando’s stomach, pausing for a moment to glance up at him, his eyes dark with desire.

“You okay?” Franco murmured, his voice low and rough.

Lando nodded, his breath ragged. “More than okay.”

Franco didn’t waste a second. His lips found the sensitive skin of Lando’s lower abdomen, and Lando couldn’t help but gasp. His body tensed in response, his hands fisting the sheets, his mind buzzing with the intensity of the moment.

Franco’s hands continued to explore, pushing aside the final barriers between them, his touch demanding and precise. Lando’s head fell back into the pillows, his breath coming faster, louder as he lost himself in the sensations coursing through him. Every touch, every kiss, sent waves of heat through his body, and all he could do was moan, letting Franco guide him.

As the intensity grew, their bodies moved together in perfect synchrony, each movement as a dance of desire. Lando’s moans filled the room, punctuated by Franco’s heavy movements, the sound of their connection echoing between them. They were both completely consumed, the rest of the world forgotten as they lost themselves in each other.

Eventually, the pace slowed, their movements becoming more languid, more intimate. Franco’s lips returned to Lando’s, this time soft and tender, as though savoring the closeness between them. Lando kissed him back just as gently, his hands running through Franco’s hair, pulling him closer.

When they finally pulled apart, both were breathless, their chests heaving as they gazed at each other. The tension had eased, replaced by a soft, quiet intimacy that wrapped around them like a blanket.

Lando smiled, his fingers tracing the line of Franco’s jaw. “That was… incredible.”

Franco chuckled, his eyes softening.

They lay together in silence for a while. Lando’s head rested on Franco’s chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, and Franco’s arm wrapped around Lando, pulling him closer.

It was the kind of quiet moment that made everything else feel insignificant. Just two people, tangled up in each other, finding a kind of peace that neither of them had expected. It wasn’t about the race, or the pressure, or the world outside. It was just them, and that was enough.

[silent-sanctum]

"Jotaro Kujo is Weak at His Core"

As a writer and avid character psycho-analyzer, I find this concept fascinating because I wholeheartedly agree with what OP has quoted from a "What opinion would get the community to do this? *Insert Johnny getting torn apart*" post.

Before I begin, I know some people will see this, misread it, and immediately say "lmao did we watch the same show? He's strong, badass, and can kick anyone's ass. Like do you know Star Platinum bro?". Trust me, I've seen the replies to this post and they said this same exact thing.

And I'm here to say that to said people, if you truly are not the illiterates I'd like to term you as, you'd take the time to realize that when we say "he's weak", we're not referring to his physical prowess because we know he's one of the strongest characters in the show.

If you don't like to, then you're just proving the accuracy of the last sentence: "You can't stand seeing your edgy badass image of Jotaro as vulnerable."

Pushing that aside, I'd like to expand on OP's opinion/headcanon with some depth to it and explain how exactly he's "weak" outside of being a skilled and strategic fighter.

I've learned that to be holistically healthy, one needs to develop and maintain all optimal functions of oneself: Physical, Emotional, Social, and Mental.

Obviously, Jotaro excels in the physical category. He's conventionally attractive, taller than the average male population, well-defined with a muscled build, fit as hell, street and book smart, and highly in tune with his environment making him adaptable in any circumstance.

He's "strong" in that aspect we all know at a superficial level.

However, we start to see the core problem once we strip this good-hearted man of his physical appeal:

Emotional? He believes he doesn't need to express them to others because why should he. He refuses to process them and instead keeps them behind a locked wall of stoicism and aloofness.

Social? Can't communicate to save his life. He's reclusive and doesn't know how to socialize outside of work. Guarded and skeptical around others. Too much of a workaholic to bother making new acquaintances (if he even knows how) outside of familial connections.

Mental? At 17, he went on a death crusade over Asia and the Middle East, almost died numerous times, and most likely lived with unresolved PTSD that carried over into adulthood, and further deteriorated his already poor social and emotional skills.

What do we have then? If we look past that powerful exterior of a man, we have inappropriate emotional expression, poor socialization, and constant fatigue of dealing with bullshit that relates to his trauma.

And this is what we mean by his "core": His mindset. His inner machinations. The soft spot his enemies would need to target in order to defeat or kill him, strategy-wise.

I. Emotional

We pretty much already know how this man handles emotions. And this may come off as "irrelevant" to the dudebros and the meme riders who believe "haha feelings are for pussies, I advocate for edgy autistic Florida man who don't give a fuck, elopes with dolphins, and berates women".

But believe it or not, he has them, just like any other human being on the planet. I said it once and I'll say it again: Not everyone will wear their heart on their sleeves. Some will convey emotions publicly with no issue, while others would prefer to keep to themselves.

But how does this contribute to him being "weak" at his core?

Essentially, it's similar to how someone with depression may behave (not everyone, some of them). One may appear friendly, sunny, and bubbly to everyone around them, not knowing they're actually suffering from a void that eats them up from the inside when alone.

For his case, it may look like he doesn't care about what happens to him and everyone around him, considering his nonchalant and aloof behavior, but beneath that cold exterior, he cares way too much for his family, friends, and allies. He feels too much to the point where once his allies are endangered, he would sacrifice his well-being without a second thought.

And that's an issue to him.

To him, emotions make him vulnerable and in his circumstance where enemies are actively hunting him down trying to find his weak spots, his emotions should be kept behind doors because he doesn't know how to regulate it on the outside so it's either total stoicism or lashing out.

I found someone saying this line about him that fits him so well: "He's a good person who doesn't know how to be a good person."

This is a man who means well and truly wants to help out of the goodness of his heart, but because of his inability to convey his emotions properly and is unable to pick up emotional cues, it can lead to shit tons of misunderstandings due to inappropriate tone & expression, and that can change how someone views him in the long run, thus leading to unintended deterioration of personal relationships (which contribute to the social aspect of his weakness).

The emotionally-reserved character here with the poor communication skills is the girl. She's a CEO who just received a call, came out from work, and meets with her husband, asking him to accompany her to a doctor's appointment.

I found a visual representation of what I just said above. Just to give context: The show is about a married couple who struggles to keep their relationship afloat, having to navigate through family politics, work & life balance, and miscommunications so they could find why they loved each other in the first place.

Observe how she thinks she views herself VS how others actually view her as.

Other's POV: Demanding, brash, and insensitive Her POV: Anxious, hesitant, and confused

Now remember what Araki had written about Jotaro? "He doesn't believe he must reveal his emotions to others because he thinks everyone can figure him out, leading him to be a victim of misunderstandings. Others think him to be cold-hearted, rebellious, and insensitive."

II. Social

With emotions as our base foundation to poor communication skills, this leads us to his weak socialization aspect.

In a recent quote reblog about how he was raised as a child may have contributed to his tough persona, I mentioned something about his need of "Security".

Growing up, it was mostly just him and his sweet pacifist mother Holly. Joseph couldn't have visited often (he hates Japan) and his dad is a busy musician with a packed schedule on tour. As a kid up to early adolescence, he was coddled by his mother and raised as a good student. Everything was going great for him.

[In popular headcanon] Once he passed puberty, the change to his Part 3 MC era began. People began picking fights with him and bullying him, and he began to see the world as a threat to his safety. Knowing his mother, he wouldn't rely on her to defend him against these dangers. She was too kind, too friendly, too loving for her to deal with the harsh life he now has to deal with.

So he had to be the stronger one for both of them. He already had the physical attributes for it, so why not use it to his advantage?

He got on the popular delinquent trend back in 80's Japan, integrated a couple of cool masculine-esque personalities as his own from his favorite Western and Crime media, and is then able to project this menacing aura everyone should be afraid of, to ward potential threats away from him and his mother.

But Mijin, how does this make him weak? What does this have to do with his need for security?

Think about it: The poor guy's already introverted, doesn't feel comfortable with his emotions that he can't express properly, and now he has to be skeptical with people around him because he realized how shitty society can be, which leads to intimidation that wards off not only potential foes but potential friends as well, making it look like he's anti-social.

On the outside, people are likely to think that he likes being this way when in reality, he seeks a reliable support system on which he can lean onto. Everyone with a sound mind wants that subconsciously because we are social creatures. It's part of our nature.

He's constantly fearful of his surroundings, growing even more vigilant as he ages, but he doesn't look afraid because he chooses to put on a brave face to challenge said fears instead of acknowledging he's scared. I read somewhere in an ask that's not mine that in the manga, some panels actually depict Jotaro shaking/trembling in a mix of fear and adrenaline during some of his fights.

He wants to be around people who he can trust. People who he can lower his defenses with. People who are capable of protecting him just as he is capable of protecting them. People who can face his intimidating aura and challenge it to stand on equal grounds with him or to remind him of his place when he goes too far with certain things. Hence, why he seems comfortable being with the Crusaders.

For once, he wants to feel safe.

To not feel like he has to be this strong pillar of hope that everyone depends on.

To be someone being protected, instead of the other way around where he was always the strong protector. He wants a life of normalcy where he can just be a marine biologist and a professor with a loving family he can come home to.

But that can't happen. The inner circle of friends he counted on is either dead or far away, leaving him even more fearful of the world around him. This results in even more guarded skepticism, always watchful of who's an enemy Stand user and what their Stand could do. Because of his cautious nature, this leads to minimized socialization with others.

With little to no solid support system he can count on, he has no one he feels completely secure with because he believes danger will always come to hurt and/or kill those near him. He doesn't want to burden others with the issues & responsibilities of dealing with Stand users. He wants them to live the normal life he could no longer have.

He doesn't trust in the capabilities of his loved ones when it comes to defending themselves against the amount of potential threats and dangers he has faced, and yet he cares about them dearly. So, he commits to what seems to be the most practical solution in his mind: Self-Isolation.

To be a distant beacon where danger is attracted to and away from those dear to him.

(As we see in the beginning of Part 3 where he willingly locks himself in jail as soon as he sees himself as the threat, and in Part 6 where he stays away from his family once he realizes his enemies were targeting him).

"Your family is your weakness."

All this leads him to become what Araki always envisioned him to be: A lone hero.

III. Mental

Now onto the last part, this part of the essay will focus more on the popular headcanon the community has made about him: "Jotaro has PTSD."

Considering what he's been through at only 17, it would be no surprise that he'd acquired major trauma after those 50 days. Think about it- he gets injured more times than he can count, almost dies numerous times, sees his grandfather get "killed" in front of him, and all this combined with the constant reminder that his mother's life is also on a time limit. A failure to kill DIO meant a failure to save Holly.

The amount of pressure and risk he had to endure for her (and there will still be people who adamantly believe that he hated Holly because he said "bitch" to her twice in the first two episodes).

Now, remember when I said about him having this mentality of over-independence when dealing with stressors? It was still manageable during Stardust Crusaders, but because of what had transpired in Cairo, that mindset carries on to the rest of his adulthood, more so if we consider that he most likely didn't get any therapy or treatment for his trauma.

It might be normal for a teenager to hold onto this stubborn notion of "I can do this by myself" and it's all casual, but with trauma now involved, that notion warps into a persisting belief of "by doing this myself, no one else will get hurt" (i.e. refusing help, doing solo fieldwork, self-isolation).

But Mijin, you keep saying "mentality" this, "mindset" that. What are you talking about?

There's an old Tumblr post I found that talks specifically about this in great detail, but to put it shortly: Jotaro has always wanted to do things by himself because he believes that not only will the task be done with, there would be no one else involved with it, making it better for him to cope mentally if ever shit hits the fan (tying back to poor emotional expression and insecurity in bonds).

If any injuries were to be inflicted, he would be the one to receive them, and he alone, because who knows how he'll react and/or cope when his allies are harmed instead of him over and over again? (refer to the trauma of Jotaro surviving Cairo while the majority of the team that went with him died a.k.a "survivor's guilt")

(Also, refer to how he had exhibited great distress when Jolyne was about to be struck by a rain of knives that Pucci sent)

This might also be the reason why he's more self-sacrificial as an adult: Will be the bait during the rat episode instead of Josuke, takes the brunt of Sheer Heart Attack's explosion to spare Koichi, dives straight onto a path of bullets to save Jolyne, etc.

The only possible solution so he could snap out of that belief he holds on to is that strong, reliable support system he internally needs. People who can help him without sustaining fatal injuries in the process [social]. People who he can approach to release any pent-up frustrations and inner conflicts [emotional].

If he had found those people, then he might have been able to deal and/or cope with his trauma better instead of letting it linger and change his outlook in life [mental].

But we all know how his life went in canon. One moment he's a kid playing ball with his mother, then in his last, he dies by having his head bisected by a time-altering Stand.

Jotaro is a person with a gold heart and a rough exterior. Someone who wants to help and protect his loved ones from the unpredictability of the world the best that he can. But even then, his best wasn't enough. His fear was masked with an air of strength and capability, perhaps as compensation for everything else he lacked:

Adequate processing of emotions.

Stable connection with familial, platonic, and romantic bonds.

A sound mindset that stems from effective coping for his PTSD.

We could only hope in headcanon land that he had a better chance at life in the Ireneverse where he finally could develop his inner core better and get that long-deserved break he had always wanted.

[ikuzeminna]

What does a goose have to do with any of it...?

We're all wondering what the heck Tallgeese is supposed to be derived from, so I decided to do some research and the result is either ¯\_ (ツ)_/¯ or a Simone Biles level routine of mental gymnastics, which, notably, is not allowed to stick the landing.

But I finally figured out what Epyon is supposed to mean (which is an utter embarrassment that it took me so long, I'm so sorry @tinyozlion), so hooray for small victories, at least.

So first things first, let's get Epyon's etymology out of the way. The mobile suit name Epyon, phonetically /ˈe.pion/, is likely derived from the Ancient Greek word επιόν, phonetically /e.piˈon/, which means "the next one/the future one." Awfully fitting considering the characters treat Epyon and its system as though it can tell the future. I also find it hilarious how the Greek wiki page features a translation, whereas the English version just assumes everyone is fluent in Attic.

As if.

Bonus information for linguists:

Here's the excuse I have for not finding out sooner Epyon is apparently taken from επιόν. Επιόν is the present active participle, neuter nominative/accusative/vocative singular, of the verb ἔπειμι (épeimi), according to Attic inflectional endings, with the verb having various meanings, among them "to exist in the future/to approach/to attack" etc.

This means that επιόν is not a word you can directly look up in a dictionary, like the one I have lying around. You need to know it's derived from ἔπειμι and then know your Attic declension to reach this form. All I wanna know right now is who the Ancient Greek buff at Sunrise was who's to credit for this. Because this was in the era before anyone even thought of uploading translations of Ancient Greek words onto the worldwide web. And how you end up with one suit having a name you need to have studied a dead language for and another named after statuesque waterfowl.

Ikeda, I have questions.

On an additional note, επιών, the masculine singular, sounds the same phonetically, but since Epyon is a mobile suit and thus an object, it makes more sense to go with the neuter. Unlike with humans and animals, things don't usually have a gender in Greek unless it's a loanword.

Okay, so now that Epyon is figured out, let's look at Tallgeese. This one is a wild ride.

For the sake of argument, we'll step away from the goose thing for a second. Tallgeese in Japanese is spelled トールギス (Tōrugisu), which, taking Japanese's limits into account and the translated Amazon.co.jp listings of the mobile suit's various gunpla kits, means we could write Tallgeese as anything ranging from "Tallgis" to "Torgis." I've seen all kinds of spellings for it. (The obscure ones sometimes let you find a kit at a very reasonable price.)

So let's look at what theme OZ suits adhere to. Here's a list of all of them:

OZ-00MS Tallgeese

OZ-02MD Virgo

OZ-06MS Leo

OZ-07AMS Aries

OZ-07MS Tragos (Greek for Capricorn)

OZ-08MMS Cancer

OZ-09MMS Pisces

OZ-12SMS Taurus

OZ-13MS Epyon

OZ-13MSX1 Vayeate

OZ-13MSX2 Mercurius

Bonus: battleship Libra

The grunt suits are all in the 01-12 range, which corresponds to the Zodiac constellations being 12, even if they don't care about the correct order. Tallgeese, Epyon, Vayeate and Mercurius are the only ones outside this Zodiac range, so time to look at what other constellations there are.

Turns out there are 88 of them by now. 48 originally if we go with Ptolemy's version.

Let's look at the suit to find some hints as to what we're looking for.

The red front-to-back plume evokes Roman or Spartan military. The round shield is definitely closer to trademark Spartan than Roman, so coupled with the death wish you need to pilot it, I'd say Spartan is a reasonable pick.

I mean, if it fits, it fits.

The other interesting detail about Tallgeese is the yellow bird emblem on the shield, which it doesn't have in the series because it probably would have been too much of a pain to animate. The gunpla feature it though.

Here's the Tallgeese, and the Tallgeese Flügel version.

The emblem on the shield is tinier, but it's there, and it's added to the giant wings as well. The reasonable assumption is that that's an eagle, which happens to exist as a constellation. Aquila, or rather Aëtos, and more specifically the Aetos Dios, "was a giant, golden eagle which served as Zeus' personal messenger and animal companion."

Tallgeese would be equated to Zeus then, since the suit obviously isn't the golden eagle itself, being all white. If we view Tallgeese as the father of all mobile suits and consider that Zeus fathered... honestly, everyone and his dog in Greek mythology <_<, it fits.

So, do we have a constellation that is something big, white, preferably with wings, that's connected to Zeus? Yup, there is the swan, Cygnus, or Kyknos if you prefer Greek, which has a very interesting story of how it ended up in the night sky.

Turns out it's another one of Zeus' romantic adventures where he transformed into a swan to seduce Leda, the queen of Sparta.

"Leda was a queen of Sparta, the wife of King Tyndareus, who was seduced by Zeus in the guise of the swan. There were several versions of the parentage of her children:- Some say she laid an egg from which were hatched the Dioskouroi (Dioscuri) twins, Kastor and Polydeukes, both sons of Zeus. Others say she laid two eggs each containing a child of Zeus and a child of Tyndareus--Polydeukes and Kastor in one, and Helene and Klytaimnestra (Clytemnestra) in the other. Yet others relate that the second egg, containing just Helene, was delivered to Leda by the goddess Nemesis who had lain it after coupling with Zeus in the guise of a goose."

....We have arrived at the goose.

Fun fact: geese, swans and ducks are grouped into one family (anatidae). This is an important tidbit as things will become very dumb from this point onward.

Because I may have gotten Spartan, golden eagle, giant white bird and predecessor all consolidated under the Cygnus constellation, but etymologically, "Tallgeese" is nowhere near anything I've discussed so far. :(

It doesn't sound like Cygnus, it doesn't sound like Zeus, or any child of his with the Spartan queen. It doesn't even sound Greek, and yes, I checked more carefully this time. The best I can give is στοργής (storgís) which would be the genitive form of the word "affection," which could fit with the swan story if you reach enough to rival Luffy, but doesn't explain where the S went. The other option is οργή (orgí) which means fury, but is missing the T.

So I got the theme of the suit figured out, I think, but the name? Nope.

Is there maybe a star in the Cygnus constellation that sounds like Tallgeese or even just tall or geese?

Nope. I checked the other birds as well, like the eagle or the dove. Nothing. I checked if there was any star at all that sounded anything like tall or geese and the closest I got was Gliese 581, which is a red dwarf in the Libra constellation and not visible to the naked eye.

Fun fact: there is also Vulpecula et Anser, the Fox and Goose, which have been reduced to just the fox in modern constellations, so we did have a goose up there in ancient times.

All these dead ends lead to three options:

I'm either looking at the wrong language and Tallgeese or Torgis or whatever is close to the word for swan in a different language

Ikeda is trolling and it really is a tall goose or

I'm off my rocker and the Tallgeese was never associated with Cygnus to begin with. Which would call the goose into question again.

So, which one is it?

¯\_ (ツ)_/¯

The final season of Sailor Moon never fails to have me in tears because of the absolute hilarity that are the Sailor Starlights' attacks. Sailor Star Fighter's attack is "Star Serious Laser." Sailor Star Healer's is "Star Sensitive Inferno", which already has me go ???? But it's Sailor Star Maker who breaks me with her "Star Gentle Uterus." I have no idea what that lady is throwing, but I know I don't wanna get hit by it.

What I mean to showcase here is that [random adjective] + [random noun] = perfectly fine attack name for a Japanese manga/anime in the 90s.

It's hard to believe that the crew who had ridiculously specific knowledge of Ancient Greek would just derp with English, but what if they did? Let's say they wanted to name the suit after Cygnus, but in a language different from Latin or Greek to cement it is an outlier, while also pointing out that it is bigger than normal suits, so they got "tall" but landed on goose instead of swan because someone mixed them up. And it's "geese" and not "goose" because it's a nod to there being more than one Tallgeese, especially since Japanese doesn't even differentiate between singular and plural.

....

Look, I tried.

[lucid-loves]

Feelings Reforged

Imagine: March carrying you home after you fall from a fever.

“Earth to Y/n? You shouldn’t space out while handling the forge.” March began to chastise like he always did, but you knew it came from his worry for you. You were zoning out a little too much for someone that was handling hot coals. 

“Huh? Oh, sorry. . .” You simply apologized, a rosy blush creeping along your soft cheeks. 

March quirked a thick brow, but didn’t question you further. It was nice that he tended to mind his own business in moments where it counted. It wasn’t like you were ready to confess your feelings for him just yet. 

Besides thinking about how handsome he looked next to the light of the fire though, you were also starting to feel a little burnt out. You’ve been toiling away at the farm for a good two years without a real break trying to prove him wrong, that you were here in Mistria to stay, and to get money in your pockets.

Everyone was busy seemingly all the time, but even the hardest workers in town found the time to relax at the beach or at Juniper’s bathhouse. Even Adeline, the workaholic that she is, managed to fit in quality time with the girls. 

There was a time where March noticed just how busy you were each week too during a Friday night at the Inn. Called it out too with a bright smile and invite you to the seat next to him. Yeah, he was drunk at the time, but he still noticed.

You hoped that he didn’t notice how you subtly swayed your head in lightheadedness. 

“Pay attention. We don’t want any accidents.” He reprimanded again, quickly getting annoyed with how distracted you seemed. You asked him to teach you how to make more metal works. He had to make time out of his busy schedule for you. And now you were daydreaming? He could be getting through another order of nails by now.

“Sorry, March. Can you show me again?” You heavily sighed, placing your shaky hands in your pockets. 

March gave an exasperated huff and struck his heavy hammer down on a molten shield, molding it to the perfect shape. “Strike like this. See how flat I made it? Not too thin, but not too thick either. You don’t want it to snap on impact or be too heavy to hold. Got it now?”

You nodded lazily and reached for the shield, your vision getting dark. A strong grip grasped your hands roughly before you could make contact with the project. “You idiot! The shield is like lava! Are you trying to burn your hands off?! Grab the forceps!”

An attempt at an apology was made, but it came out slurred as you caved into the fever. March stiffened as your body leaned into his, your eyes closing in sudden exhaustion. The feeling of his bare shoulder on your head felt cool to the touch, despite the both of you being near the hot forge. The blacksmith noticed that stark contrast in body temperature.

“H-Hey! Y/n?!” He held you up, once furrowed brows in annoyance now morphing into worry. He held you steady against him, feeling just how hot your forehead burned against his hand. 

March looked around the area, hoping that someone from the small town was around to help out. When he noticed no one, he clicked his tongue and stepped up. Thanks to strength built by years of blacksmithery, you were light as a feather as he began to carry you home.

As he walked with you in his arms, he thought about how he should’ve noticed your fever sooner. You were zoning out a lot more than usual. You didn’t seem as energetic either, not like how you were every day. Now that he thought about it, he’s never really seen you not working.

And he thought he knew you better than this.

“You should take better care of yourself.” He scolded at your unconscious body. You stirred a bit in response, the side of your head nuzzling closer to March’s skin. He knew that you probably didn’t know that you were doing it, but he couldn’t help but start to redden. His ears were burning so hot that he could be the one with the fever.

The door to your house was unlocked, the town being safe enough to warrant such carelessness. March considered dropping you on the couch, but then decided that you would be more comfortable on the bed. Once you were settled down and tucked in, he took a moment to breathe from the long walk.

You were still warm and asleep, clearly sick from all your hard work. March bit his lip as he noticed how nicely decorated the house was. How organized and full your fields were with produce. He remembered when this land was nothing but a rotting home and overgrown grass.

He was wrong about you. 

March brushed back some hair sticking to your sweaty face. “Sorry, Y/n. You’ve worked hard. I’m proud of you.” 

He blushed hard at his own words, his heart going a mile a minute. More of your features began to come to light as he watched you sleep. How nice your lashes looked. How perfect your face contoured. 

He’s tried so hard to push those invasive feelings down since the moment he met you. March didn’t want to have false hope about you. He didn’t want to get hurt. Yet, you have consistently proven yourself every single day.

Damn it, he was in love with you. 

To distract himself from his feelings, he went to your kitchen to begin cooking. You were going to need something gentle on your body once you wake up. 

[cerislabnotes]

Research Note 251: Lines West

This may not pertain to our work directly, but it definitely pertains to how it affects our patients, so IMHO, it counts.

It's yearly conference time, and this year, I had to take the train home. I haven't done it in the last 3 years because I've carpooled. Well, all alone this year, planes are out of the question, and the cars in the shop. (I had a little oopsie with my tail's scales and the upholstery…)

Which brings me to my point. I never thought about how our patients would have to adapt to public transit until now. Once they're end of treatment, most would never have to take it again. But all through the process? Well, let's just use my experience and what I've observed.

So I get on the train at Penn Station. As is my new norm, I'm being stared at the entire time in the metro lounge (perks of spending my life savings on a bedroom on the train). When we go down to board, my hands have difficulty fitting the handrails to get in the car's door. I haven't grown much in height, but my 'paws' sure have.

I turn down the hall and, surprise, even with my little f'd up wings, I barely fit, sideways or frontways. I slammed my hand against the wall and frustratedly contorted myself through the door. I set down my two bags, and as I turn to sit, a cow passes behind me with her friend. A cow, at the end of her treatment. So, effectively, a cow. I poke my head back out the door and watch this poor girl try and make the turn in the hallway. Her friend ended up having to push her around the corner. Between the few words and angered moo's, I felt bad. All I had was a little discomfort, they had a whole experience. They ended up in the larger 'family' bedroom for… obvious reasons.

Once we got underway, I was able to actually enjoy the trip. The trees and towns passing by as the light flashed across my muzzle was nice. What wasn't nice, was trying to fit all 6'2" with 4ft of tail me inside this itty bitty bathroom when it was finally time. I really didn't want to know how it felt to be packaged like an action figure, but here we are. The day passed, and I started to feel a bit normal again. So, when dinner came, I decided to go eat in the dining car. I… figured out a way to sit in the booth, sideways. Due to space, everyone gets sat in every available space. The cow's friend sat across from me while she waited to take their food back to their room. They had decided to take one more trip before "they went off to live on a farm upstate." But actually, they were. That's where their end-of-care program was. A petting zoo upstate from where they lived. "Sounds perfect! So you can still go and hang out!" She excitedly nodded as her food came. "Pasta, and the double salad for my friend! Perfect!" She ran back down the car, as my steak came out. Unfortunately, I couldn't maneuver the silverware. I was really frustrated real fast, so the entire car got to watch me two-finger pinch the steak, and sling it down like a shot of whisky. Perks of having a long neck and sharp teefies. But, when the other dragon does it with fish, everyone gets hard. When I do it, I get "oh my god, what the hell?" and asked to leave. I enjoyed the night, being able to get lulled to sleep. I spread my wings out as best I could, and cuddled my tail as the red lights flashed by. Morning came too fast, and I awoke to rustling in the room beside me. The others were getting off way ahead of me. And trying to get a cow down the stairs… well… the conductor wasn't prepared for the endeavor. After shoving her out into the vestibule, they essentially had to push her back and down the stairs, holding her front hooves so her chin didn't smash the stairs. They finally got down, their bags collected, and clear of the train. They stopped to wave at the train leaving, and I really hope they saw me waving back. Even tried flapping my broken lil wing for the first time in a while. My leaving was a repeat of my entering the car. Bump here, bump there, squeeze out and nearly tripping down the stairs. But, it was worth the experience. I think we take for granted that the people who operate things like this work with therians, as we are a very fringe and unique case. Maybe one day, things will be more accessible. For most, the point is to get away from everything humans deal with, especially the discomforts of travel.

But for some, these discomforts are just as enjoyable as being themselves. And the compromise, well worth it. Maybe I'll take the train next year, too. -Ceri

(Story and character inspired by Penny and her Bovine HRT story! Find her here: https://www.tumblr.com/pennymations @pennymations https://x.com/pennscrypt)

[anonymocha]

finally coming out as a dyke in 2023 is realizing i dont need to pretend to simp that Guy just because everyone else in my friend group does

[bmpmp3]

Getting into stuff that has a lot of pre-announced release dates is really good for me like vocal synthesizer products and new love live etc franchise music releases....I'll be lying in bed at like 2 AM with ur usual 20-something's fear and existentialism over time and the future and then I'll remember a piece of singing software or a new song related to cartoon characters I like is gonna come out like next month and I'm like 😌

[jikigo]

you ever just see a post and just

. 😭

.⬅️🫀⬅️

[kyouka-supremacy]

DON'T MANIFEST AKUTAGAWA'S FEELINGS BEING UNREQUITED WAGEHGAHTJSHHAJ

But does it count as manifesting if I'm just stating facts 🤔😔😔

[peapod20001]

I like to think that if my tumblr pals came to my house, they’d have a good time

[lilalilan]

Or I guess. I say that I have it easy comparatively, but that's not entirely true. My name has an English equivalent. I'm pretty sure most people think of them as the same, but they're not.

My name is sharp. Quick and sleek. It means innocence and purity (which I love for the irony of it all). My name is not in English.

The English version of my name is slow and clunky and round. It means nothing in and of itself, although it's derived from a different name that doesn't have a meaning to it. Even if English speakers try to say my name correctly, it's too slow, too clunky. I'd rather they call me by the different, similar, English name than butcher my actual one.

It hurts. Assimilation is a violent process when the individual doesn't want to do it, and people attempting to force my name into their version of it hurts. People claiming they know my name when it's never actually, properly left their mouth hurts. It's not my name or my culture, it's your name and your culture that I am forced to accept because you get annoyed when I tell you it's not my name and that you're saying it wrong when you try to say my name.

I hate that I have to speak your language if I want you to understand. Do you understand what it's like to be forced to translate yourself if you want to be understood, but by the fact of translation never being able to actually be understood? Do you understand what it's like to never be able to exist in your entirety around other people? Do you know what it's like to be refused something as basic as your own name, while being told that this bulbous, noxious thing is the same as your name?

[pumpkster]

[snekdood]

Yknow what makes me reaentful? How ive been sexually abused so much growing up, no one did shit besides shove me off to a therapist, ive been promised by feminist spaces that ill have a place to heal within them, and as soon as my abusive ex tries to smear me and project their behavior on to me by accusing me of doing that shit too, all the sudden everyone acts suspicious, and i still dont get any of that promised healing. Its hard not to feel like my ex did this intentionally to prevent me from having a space to heal. And its my issue with the "believe victims" narrative because it seems to me like people dont actually want to believe victims but to believe the victims they *like* and *agree more with politically*. If people can just say whatever about someone and you feel obligated to believe them because "believe victims", its very clearly going to be exploited by abusive people, and while i dont think we should stop per se, we need to have some sort of actual system to vet who is and isnt telling the truth, like a pseudo-courtroom. At the very least let everyone and their side of the story actually be heard. Bc idk how you guys plan to believe two victims at once who are accusing eachother other than throwing your hands up and picking one or deciding that we're both bad, which doesnt seem very fair to me since people seem to looove demonizing me for no discernable reason.

[medicinemane]

The world is set on prescriptivism and... it doesn't jive with me