#i have literally got nothing productive done or been able to concentrate on anything for the entire day

[katya-goncharov]

well. i ended the day by spontaneously writing an entire arrangement from memory for the soundtrack of the film based on the book i'm meant to be reading for uni, so i guess that's the sort of day it's been

[purplesaline]

Hey ADHD folks!

Did you know that anticipating a negative or aversive outcome inhibits the supply of dopamine in our brains? This is true for everyone, but particularly noteworthy for us because we have chronically low levels of dopamine to begin with.

Dopamine regulates, among other things; motivation, motor behaviour (aka literal movement), concentration/attention/focus, mood, memory, sleep, and learning.

What this means is that when we look at a task that seems overwhelming we're expecting an aversive outcome, aka that we'll never be able to get it done and we won't be getting the expected reward from finishing the task (which can be anything from getting paid to just feeling good for accomplishing a task), we're actually making it even harder to even start the task in the first place!

By thinking about that aversive outcome we're inhibiting our motivation to get started on the task, our ability to concentrate and focus on the task, our energy levels (we feel lethargic and sleepy), and can even slow our movement!!

So how do we prevent this?

As cheesy as it sounds, with the Power of Positive Thinking!!

Also with a little Mindfulness and Radical Acceptance thrown in for good measure.

If you literally have too much work to accomplish before your deadline hits it can be really hard to avoid thinking of that negative outcome, and here's where Radical Acceptance comes in. Accept what you can't control. No amount of worrying or agonizing is going to change the fact that you can't meet your deadline so you need to acknowledge and accept that. Take a deep breath and just let it go. Once you do that you can move on to what you CAN control, which can help mitigate how aversive the outcome will be.

Now comes Mindfulness! Once you've got your tasks ordered by most urgent/important to least urgent/important it's time to focus only on the task in front of you. Stop thinking about the mountain ahead of you and focus simply on putting one foot in front of the other. Any time you find your mind starting to wander to that overwhelming list of tasks, pull your attention away from those thoughts and back to the one task in front of you. This gets easier the more you practice it and the key is to be gentle with yourself about it. Don't scold yourself for letting your attention wander, just gently remind yourself that it isn't time to worry about that right now because you need to pay attention to what you're already working on. You can worry about the rest of it later.

Positive Thinking! Don't focus on the negative outcomes of the task you can't complete, focus on the rewards for the tasks you CAN complete. "Sure I can't get X,Y, Z done but I CAN get A,B,C done and the rewards for those will be [insert everything from the dopamine rush for completing a task, to getting paid, to the rewards you decided to give yourself for getting it done like treating yourself to delivery from your favourite restaurant for your dinner break]. And again, when you find yourself starting to think about the negative outcomes bring out the Radical Acceptance and Mindfulness skills you've been practicing!

You don't need to be ADHD to benefit from these techniques and skills either! For us ADHD folks it can mean the difference between getting nothing at all done because we're completely paralyzed to making a decent size dent in the to-do list, but this method can help even neurotypical people be more productive and, more importantly, feel happier!

[blackradandmad]

why blippi is rotting yr children's brains

preface: i literally expect no one to read this. it is an essay length, strong opinion piece critiquing a niche youtube-based children's show that i don't expect most of y'all to even have knowledge of lol. but like, i promise that even if you know nothing about what i'm talking about, in my incredibly, super humble opinion, it's a good piece of writing and interesting nonetheless. anyway if you read this whole thing for some reason yr really hot and we should kiss.

i thoroughly vet everything my child watches before he watches it, episode by episode. and we rarely watch youtube for entertainment; we usually just look up educational videos when he has a question about something and wants more detail than i can provide him. and that's mainly because children's content on youtube is so fucking troubling and distressing. i don't judge parents who give their children a tablet at a restaurant at all bc i've been there and sometimes it's easier on everyone to just put on a video and avoid a giant scene, but i do judge parents who just leave their children alone with youtube kids on autoplay.

take stevin john, a literal millionaire who got famous from dressing up as a silly character called blippi and going on tours of places like aquariums, zoos, construction sites, etc and posting it on youtube. this has branched into a whole empire of blippi videos, hulu shows and specials, live shows and tours (that he outsources to another character actor), merchandise and so on. this 30-something year old man cites his main influence as being mr. rogers, but i question if he's ever even seen an episode of that program.

mr. rogers had no background in early childhood development or media production, but he revolutionized the world of children's media, because he respected his audience and didn't shy away from real world situations, all while creating a show with an enormous heart. mr. rogers begins his episodes by inviting the viewer in, literally changing his attire to be more comfortable, and talking about/doing things he genuinely cares about. whereas mr. rogers calmly and maturely addresses the viewer, blippi puts on a high pitched, contrived voice, interjecting every other sentence with a forced exclamation such as, "teehee! we're having so much fun!"

i don't find it a coincidence that john (blippi) is a veteran, either. his videos are completely devoid of the absurd, abstract, childlike thinking that makes children's media fun, creative, and entertaining. his thinking and process is methodical, devoid of emotion, and very superficial. this line of thinking clearly shows the kind of creative sterilization and emphasis on sameness and conformity instilled in the military. blippi simply observes things and interacts with them in a stale, matter-of-fact way. "this ball is purple! this ball is pink! anyway... what's over there? teehee! a car! vroom, vroom!" objects are colors, toy cars don't do anything but drive, curiosity is simply not encouraged.

he uses the "it's educational!" excuse to hide the fact that his show lacks everything that makes media a valuable resource for children to consume in the first place. further than identifying colors, numbers, and the occasional letter or shape, there is just this total lack of children's need for social and emotional development. when mr. rogers breaks the fourth wall to address the viewer and let them know they're special, it feels authentic and natural, because we've spent the last half hour building whole worlds with diverse characters and unique stories in a pretend neighborhood, learning about and enjoying different musical instruments, being exposed to and making friends with (even if parasocially, it is still a real bond to children when done properly) children who are similar to us in character regardless of physical or environmental differences, feeding the fish, making art together, and so on. when blippi tells the viewer, "you are very special, and i enjoy spending time with you!" it falls completely flat and feels unearned, because the last half hour was spent running around a soft play center pointing at bright, colorful objects, visiting interesting locations like farms or fruit production factories while failing to acknowledge the humanity of the humans actually working there (everything is machine or product focused; the human workers are simply an extension of the machine), learning "fun facts" about elephants that just list attributes of elephants, not taking the opportunity to inform the viewers of elephants' intelligence, or diet, or matriarchal society. it is a loud, sensory overwhelming display of a man so disconnected from the social and emotional needs and desires of children that he assumes they're stupid, easily entertained idiots who only need some silly dances and fast-moving cartoon graphics to give their attention (meaning time and desire to purchase products meaning $$$). john clearly views his audience as a means to gaming the algorithm and ultimately a paycheck by the hollow way he addresses them.

the show is so narcissistic, so focused on all the fun blippi is supposedly having, but he lacks any of the character traits that make individual children's show hosts memorable, so much so that he was able to have someone else who doesn't even vaguely resemble him dress as blippi and impersonate him and host the show or appear at live shows, and it went unnoticed by most of his toddler and child audience. the show is so formulaic and the character of blippi is so unmemorable that instead of taking the blue's clues route of developing a story of the host leaving for college and his brother now stepping in, or making some sort of believable excuse for the change in actors, they can simply swap him out with some random guy and not acknowledge it at all. although a comedy show for older children, the amanda show in no way could or would try to replicate the show with the same name but swapping out amanda bynes with a random teenage girl who is clearly not amanda bynes. it's weird and nonsensical and shows that his character is so much of a farce put on for a paycheck that not even his dedicated audience is affected or even cares when he is replaced by a random, unknown person.

this is completely garbage content made by an opportunist with no experience with children who saw his nephew watching children's youtube content, took it at complete surface level and still hasn't realized that while children's content only looks and feels so easy, entertaining, and enriching because it is so hard to do well. even with outsourcing his music, that aspect of the show still sucks. famous and successful children's musician, raffi, is known for his song describing the life of a little white whale, called "baby beluga." it opens with a calm strumming of his guitar, followed by the lyrics, "baby beluga in the deep blue sea/swim so wild and you swim so free/heaven above/sea below/and a little white whale on the go." is it silly and kind of pointless? yes, but the point is that he is captivating children and showing them the fun of listening to music, dancing, singing, and appreciating art. the "excavator song" featured in an episode of blippi about construction vehicles opens with what sounds like a default garageband loop and the flatly sung lyrics, "i'm an excavator/i'm an excavator/hey dirt, see you later/i'm an excavator." i don't feel i have to meticulously analyze the aforementioned lyrics; the stark contrast should speak for itself.

i have a million more criticisms about both blippi specifically and youtube children's content as a whole, but this is already so long and i doubt many people will get this far anyway. it's an issue i was completely apathetic towards until i had my own child and had to wean him off these kinds of junk food shows because i realized the fast-paced visuals and bright colors and repetitive songs/lyrics were putting him in this spaced-out, fugue state, and he thought he could demand this show or that show whenever he wanted. the moment he started regularly yelling things like, "watch! cars!" or "no! click it!" i knew i had to be a lot more invested in the things he watched even if just for entertainment or as a soothing message. i showed him an episode of mr. rogers yesterday and feared it would be too slow to hold his attention, but he was mesmerized, greeting and interacting with mr. rogers verbally, asking me, "what's that?" to different objects on the screen. since purging this low-brow children's entertainment, he has had a noticeable increase in attention span and concentration, can focus on a task for longer amounts of times, is more likely to "read"/look through books without me initiating it, and doesn't throw a fit when the tv/my laptop is off.

i just know that for me, growing up with so much unsupervised internet access definitely led me to real-world pain and consequences, and it seems like now children are born with an iphone as an extension of their arm. if my child is going to be consuming videos, i'm definitely supervising every second and am going to be highly critical of the videos and the credentials (or lack thereof) of the creators and team behind it. but i also know, from pure observation admittedly, that parents letting youtube kids autoplay parent their children for hours at a time is not an uncommon occurrence. and it worries me that a generation of children are being raised on videos that rely on being as loud and bright and superficially enjoyable as possible. what's the use of a child knowing their colors and alphabet if they don't know how to treat people with kindness and empathy and respect? there is something wrong for a children's show host to plug the spelling of his name at the end of his videos ("well, that's the end of this video. but if you wanna watch more of my videos, just type in my name! can you spell my name with me? b-l-i-p-p-i!") after essentially rotting his audiences' brains for a half hour. there's something so insidious about the prioritization of naming different parts of construction vehicles over honest depictions of and conversations about dealing with feelings, or why someone with autism may act differently than you, or what to do when you feel lonely, or ways to make art and express yrself creatively. also, not to mention the blatant police propaganda and outright worship is seriously jarring; as a black mother to a visibly non-white child, i cannot sit there and watch blippi show kids how to be a bootlicker for the shittiest profession on earth, but that could be a whole essay in and of itself.

anyway, thanks for reading, if yr looking for quality children's content, i recommend, in no specific order: mr. rogers, sesame street, the electric company, molly of denali, daniel tiger, bluey!, blue's clues, the odd squad, word party, trash truck, puffin rock, uhh... that's definitely not an extensive list but that's just off the dome!!! ok bye y'all <333

[ruby-whistler]

@justalads hi, hello! made a new post because didn't want to clog up everything with a suuper long string of reblogs, so i hope you don't mind!

also, i'm sorry to ask you this, but i have trouble focusing - in your next reply, would you maybe mind cutting up the big paragraphs into smaller ones? i'm nd and it's extremely difficult to concentrate at long strings of text like that, which is why i usually cut up everything i say into chunks :]

(actually had to have my friend cut up your last reply because he's a v fast reader, shoutout ani lmao)

anyways, let's continue the debate i say because there's a lot to still talk about in my opinion as well

/dsmp /rp, and of course all /lh

as for the whole was manipulated / wasn't manipulated thing, there's pretty much a divide amongst most people i know whether or not to call it that - but since that word's been misused a lot in this fandom, here is the instance most people are referring to, for you to judge for yourself, in this very (in my opinion) well-written analysis!

since i myself am very confused about the subject but i think it'd be better for you to read that first, i'll just move past that for now i think.

i attached a lot more resources this time because i remembered that a lot of people who agree with me on these things are smarter than me so, sorry for the links you'll have to click through this time but i think it could help me articulate what i actually want to say better.

i don't think i entirely get your point about it "making sense for him to progress like this". i don't know what you mean by 'make sense'. it comes off as 'he was always going to become this way because of the kind of person he was in the beginning' which, i don't agree with in general? because no, you don't just become a bad person, and especially with c!dream i find that this ignores a lot of the things that he went through.

also, i wouldn't say everyone had equal hand in what happened. "a product of his environment" means everything sort of mixed together; the way the world works; a cycle of violence, eye for an eye, and no therapy or communication.

dream's spiral isn't a result of any one character's actions. c!wilbur started the whole big wars and animosity thing, but that's only about 50% of what i'd call "the environment". there's also a lot of personal mistakes and miscommunication mixed in.

so no, i'm not saying it was entirely "other characters"' fault, what i mean is more that they contributed by you know, treating him as the incarnation of all evil, breaking his personal boundaries, overall just no one treating him like they should a person (this is overall their attitude over multiple seasons), etc..

and also another thing i meant to say was that he didn't deserve the abandonment. no one deserves to lose half their friends once (l'manberg when they turned against him for literally no good reason in his eyes), and then watch the ones who were the last remaining and the closest ones he had, leave him one by one because of an image of himself he had no control over, which was started by one and then perpetuated until he became a literal hate magnet. people did hurt c!dream, and he didn't deserve that.

all i'm saying is that i see where he is coming from, and that his spiral wasn't a result of powerhungriness, or cruelty, or any other personal flaw, but it was literally someone who cared about people too much getting driven too far by the circumstances he was put into.

and i think that is my overall statement for now.

you said i was "brushing it off as george being a drama queen" for the whole dethronement scene. i read what you said about it, and i'd like to ask you to once again watch the actual stream.

george literally tried to steal the l'mantree and got assassinated by techno beforehand. i don't see why he would be in any way in the wrong for dream taking away his kingship, and i don't think it is reminiscent of a power dynamic or dream having "higher authority".

dream thinking george can't handle himself is completely justified considering what he did and how he didn't even attempt to stay neutral. he was supposed to be a diplomatic figure who would make sure the dream smp doesn't get into wars, that was the point of pretending to be a monarchy (because the dsmp really just isn't, it's anarchy with a diplomatic representative and an army general).

here's a thread which besides other things mentions things dream did for the two of them, and besides fighting with him in one (george) or two (sapnap) wars they really weren't "loyal to him for a long while" compared to the amount of times he sacrificed things for them.

"have an equal say in things" doesn't apply when one of the three is trying to keep peace and the other two instigate conflict left and right. like i'm sorry but i don't see why dream would owe them a say in the faction he's trying to protect.

dream doesn't think of them as lower. that actually just sounds like guilt-tripping your friend to let you take care of a pet you've poisoned before and he had to rush to the hospital. peace is fragile and these two weren't responsible enough to be given the power to break it.

to say "george didn't want" it was an overstatement. he literally did nothing as a king and he had no control in the first place (because the dream smp doesn't have a government in the first place).

the whole thing about him being sad was for show because c!george is a manipulative prick who takes advantage of his friends for fun. and i don't mean this in a bad way, he's not a bad person for it, he's actually a really fun character more than anything, and he doesn't hurt anyone on purpose - but he's a jerk! he's done it before and now he's doing it again, and he continues to do it (dreamxdcoughcough-)

so no dream was. absolutely not in the wrong here, it wasn't even supposed to be public, george just made a big deal out of it.

the last thread i mentioned also talks about the whole "spirit speech" thing and, answer me a question - would you consider it justified for all of tommy's friends (even tubbo who he's been close with for so long) to abandon him just because he's said basically the same thing about the discs - like three times?

that's just the double standards though. phil and techno are still being hated on for "abandoning" a kid they barely know - and meanwhile dream's been given up on by everyone he's ever cared about before being given a chance, but people try to find ways it's his fault, like it matters.

it doesn't matter, because abandonment hurts you, no matter if the people have good reasons for it or not, and in this case they didn't. the point i'm making is this character has been hurt and has been actively hurting and it's been ignored for bias' sake.

i'm not saying they're bad people for it, or responsible for his actions. some of them are bad people independently (/hj). but they still affected him.

“if respect is the only thing protecting you from a knife in the back, then respect is nothing, right?” yeah? i don't see the point in this either. interesting to point out that dream learned this the hard way with you know, no one having respect for him as a person and only being able to fight for what he cares about via 'an axe and a shield'.

and no, dream didn't have an arising god complex. he was becoming more desperate for control because of his circumstances over the course of s2, but the god complex only happened in the prison because he had all control of everything (who he gets to talk to, what and when he gets to eat) taken away for months before being shown a smidge of power again. that's just a natural reaction to very messed up circumstances that had no buildup other than that.

the no-remorse thing - he could be remorseful and we wouldn't know. that's not even speculation, that's just saying that pretending to know whether or not he regrets things is a weak argument because we have no evidence for or against; we don't see his pov. that he doesn't show it doesn't say anything, it's a vital part of his character that he doesn't show what he's thinking.

"friends support each other" yes, and none of c!dream's "friends" ever did. it's a contrast with how much support for example tommy, tubbo, or wilbur got. not saying they weren't all abandoned as well, but no one has been alone to the point c!dream was or completely emotionally isolated for so long. his experience in this way is unique, and hence it's formed him in a way it hasn't anyone else.

dream didn't hurt george. he did create a place in the vault for his fish (that would be mars, not beckerson though), and he did do bad things to other people. he had reasons to be upset at someone who he didn't expect to do bad things doing them. it doesn't justify the things he said. it's a lot of explanation vs. justification when it comes to this server, and this is an example of this.

it wasn't a reaction to him being directly hurt by him, which is what you had implied (if i remember correctly) in the last post, and it wasn't right of him to do. also i agree he wasn't betraying him with what he said in prison, he'd done that a long time ago anyways.

"puffy does not dismiss people’s trauma just because they are adults, or if she does i haven’t seen strong evidence of it." jack, nikki and in a way the eggpire. dream is not far behind, but not the main example.

"you point out that she’s a guardian figure but from what i remember that lasted for a couple streams and after that wasn’t really mentioned in canon. if she really saw him like that, then maybe she would have checked up on him earlier and maybe would have told him off."

i'm pretty sure it was canonized by cc!puffy saying c!puffy isn't his biological mom, but that she sees herself as his guardian figure. so yes, she really saw him like that, and yeah, she "would've" checked up on him earlier; or rather "should've", but she didn't, and that's precisely what i'm talking about. that's not how you treat someone you allegedly see as being a guardian of. not saying c!puffy's a bad person, but she's another one c!dream was attached to and who failed to ever reach out to him before deeming him deserving of what he's (was, because admittedly it's gotten worse since) going through.

"she said at one point that he didn’t deserve to see her but she still cared about him."

this is what i mean when i say she has a moral superiority problem. like she's doing something extra by being a decent person. i know this might come across as cynical, and i swear i don't hate the character, but that sentence is very hypocritical, you must admit.

"she did try."

nope! she said she was going to try. that's the problem. i'm not talking about intentions here in the slightest, i'm talking about the actual consequences and effect it had on him as a character and why it's just very sad in my opinion that none of the people he thought were close to him stood by his side or even attempted to help him.

the entire original post was very clearly stated as not blaming most of these characters for acting in the way they did. it was "critical" of a lot of them in a way, but i never said anything negative about them other than describing things they did that had a negative effect.

i stand by that, because i truly believe they did all those things, and them having good intentions or personal feelings doesn't change that. it contextualizes them, but doesn't take away from the harm.

saying "it's not her fault" about puffy for example or that "it was just a reaction" is excusing those things, which is what i disagree with.

here is a thread as to why people like puffy or sapnap saying certain things is understandable but still very messed up, please read since it details parts of what i've said here in an arguably better way.

you also phrased the whole "she didn't abandon him either" part like he was the one who cut the ties which is not true. she wasn't there for him, is the point. another person he cared about who didn't prove to care about him enough to stop him from spiralling or try help at all.

if "they don't owe him anything" is your base argument against someone being hurt via being left by people they care about over and over again until they're utterly alone with no support system and unhealthy mindsets, we might have to agree to disagree :) /nm

please clarify if that wasn't the intention, because it sounds like it.

"i think that how people feel about it depends a lot on when they started watching, and who they were watching. the thing you have to take into consideration is that at the start of l’manburg, a lot of the roleplay was not very serious. the sides were messier than they are today. that doesn’t work or make sense for people who want to see it as only one thing, and are fixed in their ways so much that they’ll ignore canon to prove their point."

i've been watching since august and yeah, i agree. i've always seen c!dream as in the right at that point, so it's definitely different for the people who haven't seen that happen.

"you seem to have a very fixed view of wilbur: that he only wanted power, that he enjoyed tearing people apart, that he lied all the time, and that he was attempting to paint dream as something he wasn’t."

to be fair, you seem to have a very fixated view of wilbur too. i do think he wanted power, but also just to revolt for the sake of it - i don't think he straight up enjoyed it but it was a means to his ends, i don't think he lied all the time but he lied much more than people realize, and i don't think he just attempted, i dare to say he was extremely successful.

"you also see him as conscious of what he was doing the entire time, and sort of treating the war like a game."

i'd say a story or narrative is a much more fitting metaphor. also yeah he's so much smarter than people give him credit for, but i guess covering it up was intentional as well, because manipulation ain't meant to be obvious at first sight now is it? like for example c!dream, that man was awful at it. he's just. so bad. unironically. he did cause a lot of harm, not diminishing that, but man. his manipulation is the clumsiest thing i've ever seen, people calling him a puppeteer is such an overstatement, it's really funny to me.

now c!wilbur? he was really good at it. that's what i mean by "you need more than intelligence", because emotions are stronger than critical thinking and can be exploited easier. all the sentimentality around l'manberg is a great example.

"wilbur didn’t go around trying to recruit people by saying “dream is bad”." yeah no he started by straight up lying to fundy when they first met (if you rewatch the hot dog van video, there's really no denying that), then he lied some more to tubbo while praising him every time he followed his orders, i don't completely remember eret's recruitment, and tommy looked up to him since the beginning, and it's very easy to see that c!wil took advantage of that.

he did tell people they needed to revolt against tyranny though, that's precisely what he did and how he got them to side with him in the war. by tyranny he meant everyone in the server who wasn't european, picking dream as the scapegoat since he had the most power (not by establishing it in any way, but simply by being skilled) and it was smart to do that, not gonna lie!

"weak businessman" is just not true. he was planning to "use the tommyinnits of the world" aka, the "young and naive" (his words, not mine) ones whom he could "mold", in order to establish a capitalist empire based on stealing from people while lying to them about saving them from being sick.

this man was planning to take power from the start and he was going to use lies to get what he needed. from the beginning i have no reason to believe why he would change his goals when he proceeded to do that very thing and achieve it, just put "revolution" instead of "business" as a guise of what he was actually doing.

"you quoted revivedbur’s stream as proof it was, which is funny because despite saying wilbur is someone who lies you missed a kind of big one." yeah, as someone who mentioned people ignoring canon earlier you missed kind of a big one.

the only reason people disbelieve this is not because it doesn't align with canon, but because they assume he's lying for the sole reason that it doesn't align with the way they see canon.

the reason i believe it is not because i believe a word c!wilbur says (i never have and never will), but because it aligns with what actual evidence has been saying from the start, as well as the way cc!wilbur talks about the character. it's simply further confirmation of what many people already knew; an extension even, if you will.

people tend to take things characters say at face value and then use it as their only evidence; "if you want to hear why l’manburg was created, you have to listen to wilbur when he created it."

what they actually ignore is you know, the actions, not the words. according to his actions and all known laws of logic, he was lying since the beginning, and that is the point. and it makes sense for him to lie, unlike in alivebur's case.

"i say he cared about l’manburg because it drove him to death."

yeah he did care! cc!wilbur said so! he also said he cared about it in a twisted way and that he had an unhealthy view of possessions. he thought l'manberg his and no one else's, a weapon of power for him to use however he pleases.

unlike dream who destroyed himself bit by bit trying to take back what he cares about, because it was not power, but people - wilbur saw no more worth in it and destroyed it instead. his own death and spiral was a collateral, because that isn't a healthy mindset either.

interesting foils, actually, i didn't notice that before.

"the whole time wilbur was attempting to portray a character who was a chronic liar and manipulator, and it was all planned out from the start. purely because of the chaos of season one i don’t think this is possible."

i reckon you're underestimating cc!wilbur here. that man could play a convincing, complex, morally messed up character while roleplaying with kindergarteners.

"and, you know, if he’s saying “dream is not our enemy” that hardly sounds like forcing a narrative onto him?" i mean i don't think i need to give evidence as to wilbur calling him a tyrant right after. i was just talking about how hypocritical and downright ridiculous his later accusations are, which you didn't address.

"because what he’s saying is that dream’s actions are tyrannical, his rule is tyrannical, not him." no actually, he said right after; 'big words, that's what we use in war', about calling him that, so i don't reckon that is the case. he was calling him that for the sake of it, and later on everyone ended up believing him about that despite there being no evidence. i must admit, the man's very good at what he does. he constantly changes the narrative to whatever benefits him and somehow gets away unnoticed. that was my point.

dream didn't tell sapnap it was a bad idea because it wasn't...? wilbur was going around stealing from people while lying to them. wil was framing himself to be the victim. like the whole "drugs" bit was funny but wilbur was only making drugs to estabilish, once again, a capitalistic empire he would be in charge of, on dream's land, and he was also doing it via dishonest means.

the intentions never changed, it was simply the way it was achieved that did, which switched from just lying to straight up propaganda when people managed to stop him at first.

so yes, wilbur's definition of tyranny very much was being stopped from stealing.

so yeah, even if dream would've done the same to them, he a hundred percent would be in the right, but he didn't even do that much, which makes wil's accusations all the more ridiculous.

just because sapnap was fighting against being stolen from - and others being stolen from - doesn't make him tyrannical or a government. your teacher in school isn't a government just because she has authority of some kind?

"wilbur’s problem was that sapnap could do that and get away with it." well then that's his problem, because people should be able to get away with protecting themselves and others from people trying to rob everyone on the server of a specific item and then gain power from selling rare supplies.

also it was sapnap and tubbo, they both did the same thing, and wilbur didn't seem to have that much of a problem with tubbo, now did he? he accepted him right after he gave them supplies, then rejected sapnap when he did the same. the people he was accusing of being tyrannical were very selective, and he seemed to be also selectively choosing whoever he was "protecting" from said "tyranny". though i guess "using the tommyinnits of the server" also included using tubbo, now didn't it?

"i highly, highly doubt that was what it was written as at the time."

yeah, dream did quote the lion king, but that doesn't change the way that it was anarchy. dream's "no factions" thing he had going on also included no government by default, showcased by him having problems with people starting countries. if it wasn't anarchy, what was it then? because that's literally the only thing that fits. there was no government and even dream described it as a "family" rather than any form of hierarchy, so i don't get your point. some people are going to have better things than others, and they'll be able to protect themselves and others better, but there is no system in place, that's literally how anarchy works. their mock court with no actual laws enforced by no one doesn't count i don't think.

the fact they thought they had a reason to attack her doesn't change the fact that they attacked first, so dream had all the reasons to believe they were aggressive and was fully justified in declaring war. this makes the statement "dream attacked first" untrue as well.

wilbur knew what he was doing, he knew he was going to scam people for power. if he thought he was being mistreated he could just stop trying to mistreat others.

i do agree it became a lot of other things for other people. i think that's one of the reasons wilbur destroyed it though; it was supposed to be his l'manberg.

if the power was supposed to "let him do what he wanted" then that's quite ironic considering what he wanted was power (you know, the reason he started the drug empire in the first place), not because he wanted to "make drugs undisturbed". that is quite literally an obvious lie he used when they first started and somehow people have totally forgotten that was not the truth.

"he didn't want power over others" cc!wilbur said he wanted to have power over l'manberg because he thought it was something worth having power over. if you consider l'manberg the people, then your statement would be untrue. then again, maybe he simply wanted to have something be fully his because of his possessive nature.

"he would lie about his past actions out of a place of self hatred." is just. reaching, with all due respect. this man might be mentally unstable, but that makes literally no sense when the day before he was saying how he had "plans to make". he thinks ahead, always.

"what if one person wants the “freedom” to attack another? it’s still technically allowed, but obviously it’s morally wrong." yeah that's what i mean by not infringing on the rights of others. in that case they shouldn't have that freedom, just like wilbur shouldn't have the freedom to restrict others' freedom.

also i see the whole "words" schtick as manipulation because it was. they said they "fought with words", like that doesn't sound like a peaceful solution, more like a different approach, and it was because that is what they did.

other people believed in the ideals of l'manberg and they protected it for good reasons, but that doesn't change the fact it was build on lies by a liar and it did exactly what it was meant to do - it divided people.

i actually talk about it in this post here!

"wilbur was saying that he wanted to create something important." nope, the quote continues something like "make them think it's important because you want to have power over it, when it's not." here's the link to the whole clip.

"wilbur showed in the first war that that wasn’t his main motive" i've already said why i find this misinformation. he said it, he didn't show it, and that is because it isn't true.

the "something worth" part is just. taking things out of context to the point they're something completely different. yes, it was worth something to wilbur, and that worth was power. that's literally what that means.

the greater smp did represent anarchy and peace. that were the ideals c!dream was fighting for, and still was later on, that much was obvious if you look deeper into his character, so i'm not going to argue, other than that based on the information i have, it's incorrect.

"someone who wanted peace at the start and someone who tried to protect the thing and people he loved." see you tell me you didn't fall for propaganda and then say this. the thing he loved was his own personal power, and that was the end of it. if he wanted peace he wouldn't be starting factions and accusing people of being tyrannical while he himself was trying to estabilish an empire. i'm not saying he's an awful person, they're all morally grey, but that's just what all the actual evidence points to.

"your view shows him as lying about practically everything to everyone all the time, never caring about the citizens, and striving for conflict."

again, i don't believe he liked conflict for its own sake, but he did create division for his own benefit the way i see it.

yeah wilbur said it genuinely to tubbo when he first brought him armor; when the rule was first established. here's the post where i found it.

wilbur was never a dictator because people didn't listen to him, which is why he did the whole election thing, with his other plan than a democratic election with no democracy being this:

Wilbur: “We can either, Tommy, right – we can either become a dictatorship, okay…we can just suddenly decide, ‘right, we’re in charge,’ and we just start – we start asserting our dominance. Now the key thing to being a dictator, is we need to control the center of power…so we get an army going –”

Tommy: “What is the center of power? Is it like some cube, or like an orb?”

Wilbur: “The army! The army! The banks, you know? We take control of those, and then people will do exactly as we say, right? That’s the dictatorship route, right. The other route is the democracy route. Now, this route’s gonna be slightly harder, but I have a plan. So I was thinking…what better way of making people believe that you’re in charge than by having them vote for you, right?”

so uh, i wouldn't be so quick to say he didn't plan on being oppressive to his people. he was literally planning to start an army and take total control of the economy to "assert dominance" over his own people -because he didn't think they respected his authority enough and was irritated by it - but instead defaulted to lies and manipulation of the crowd. you see a pattern already?

"the feelings of l’manburg were more like friends than a hierarchy even though he was technically in charge." this is the thing with dream though, except there was. actually no hierarchy. the original dream smp was this but actually true instead of just being a front. no one actually needed l'manberg, wilbur made them think they did. tubbo and sapnap used to be friends before this. the friendships inside of it could've existed without, and would've probably been better off without being stained by war.

wilbur didn't fear for anyone's safety, and i don't get where you would get that conclusion. the dream smp was already safe, people like dream and sapnap were making it safe.

"people that were already in l’manburg had been affected firsthand by dream. they knew what he was capable of and so were fighting for l’manburg and each other, not because wilbur told them to." i don't find this true at all, please elaborate because i have reasons to believe this is incorrect.

the quote you’ve listed is very interesting to me, because it first of all shows dream’s “ends justify the means” mentality (that is also shown in an explanation of his motives during moments like this, which happened after the war), as well as trying to end the war as soon as he could.

the dream smp was freedom. the freedom wilbur was asking for was the freedom to take the land, take the people dream considered his friends, divide them and create a government.

wilbur was verbally aggressive with dream since the beginning, back when he was cocky. this only shows that dream was one of the few people who didn’t fall for his words. his main point in his motivation during the war was not wanting to give them independence, which would be, well, giving wilbur power over the land *and* the people. so i think from his position this is extremely understandable.

but back to the topic at hand, wilbur’s speech here means literally nothing, because it’s as untrue as everything he’s said before - in both intention and meaning - as well as being a last attempt at turning the situation in his favor using words. he said he was a peaceful businessman back when he was robbing people, and not like that meant anything when his actions said otherwise. both sides had their losses and were ready to harm the other, neither was the victim, no matter how good wil is at playing one.

dream was giving them chances over and over again. you can literally see he wasn’t hurting them because he wanted to, even despite it being war he was willing to step away at any moment should the other side surrender. and, well, of course dream’s perspective wouldn’t mean anything to wilbur, because he had his own, and he knew no one was going to believe dream anyways; he made sure of it.

i’m not saying he wanted violence, but that doesn’t mean he was good or pacifistic. he was *ready* to be violent if needed (see the armor quote again as well as the fact they literally fought), but i too would be happy if i was able to to colonize someone’s land without any resistance or conflict if you know what i mean. guess wilbur realized rather quickly words wouldn’t work on dream, which is why he got verbally violent and didn’t seem opposed to fighting him later on (during the actual war).

reminds me of exile, in a way. can’t get them to listen to you and give you what you want? get them out of the way in a different manner.

either way, point is; i’m sure wilbur didn’t want to fight, i don’t think him a fan of violence *at all* but he was the instigator and was ready to perpetuate war to get what he wanted. (see him also being willing to make an army to control his citizens, but using underhanded tactics instead to make people think they were voting for him.)

the whole “dream attacked the child soldiers and was always the one to start it” is quickly negated by the way dream constantly asked them to give up instead of fighting. it was literally wilbur who pushed them to go on and risk (and lose) their lives. dream’s said later on that he “had to” do what he did (he was being genuine here), which means he, in a way, felt responsible for stopping wilbur & l’manberg. he didn’t want to be violent, but unlike wilbur, he wasn’t going to be able to talk them out of it. it makes sense he would turn to threats and intimidation to try and get them to surrender first, i mean, what other choice was there?

l’manberg weren’t the ones forced to fight, is what i’m getting at.

dream wasn’t any more violent than wilbur, it’s just wil was better at non-violent, but still morally reprehensible, ways of getting his way, and he used them to his full advantage. neither of them wanted violence for the sake of it, and i never said that; i just said wilbur’s “pacifist” schtick was a total ruse, and never meant anything about his actual “peacefulness”, which i still find true.

as for the whole “manipulated or didn’t manipulate” thing with the vassal scene, the first link i sent here i think describes my stance quite well. but it’s very interesting to note that there’s a theory wilbur legitimately thinks dream selfish, which is why he said that - either way, the effect remains, dream was essentially shut down after trying to gain back people’s trust and help out who he considered the “good side”.

dream was very obviously making efforts, giving tommy and techno as well as the pogtopia cause as a whole a whole lot of supplies, including his crossbow which he had a personal attachment to. he expressed outwardly that he was on their side, to the point where he refused to call l’manberg “manberg” and then was caught off-guard when wilbur called it that during the vassal conversation.

dream was attached to tommy, as shown by fighting for him during the eiffel tower conflict, and also helping him overall. their relationship was always very interesting, but after the l’manberg war, their friendship never really changed - tommy scammed the discs back, that had at that point legally belonged to dream, but he didn’t seem to hold even that against him as he tried to help get back l’manberg with him. they were the sort of friends who would tease each other to hell an back and fight on the battlefield each other but still have friendly vibes… you know what i mean?

i think this is why exile hurt so much, to me. that i believe they had genuinely been friends once, before it went downhill at a hella steep inclide. but enough me rambling about what had once been my comfort duo and is now utterly unsalvageable.

either way, he was attached to the people involved, because a lot of the character strongly indicates he has a sense of responsibility (not control) over the people on his smp. it’s the reason he’d always get involved in conflicts other people started, like pogtopia.

his fatal flaw has always been caring too much after all - and not being cared about back, because sometimes, that’s just how life works. that’s what destroyed him. that’s literally the character, so saying he “could’ve just walked away” is dismissing pretty much his entire personality, but hey, i don’t blame you, just pointing it out.

the thing is wilbur did force him to make a terribly hard decision. dream could either give him the tnt, ally with the self-proclaimed bad guys, or let wilbur get back his power and go mad with ambition - not saying it would happen, but it’s what wilbur threatened to do. keep in mind dream’s main concerns about this whole conflict was schlatt going to war with the dream smp, as expressed by himself, and so wilbur saying he would genuinely do the same if he became president again was literally backing dream up into a corner.

“if dream thought wilbur was being a villain”

Wilbur: How much would you say that me and Tommy are kind of the bad guys here? We… We… I mean, we-

Dream: I don’t think you guys are the bad guys.

i… don’t know where you got that from, maybe you misunderstood something i said, but no, he definitely didn’t. until wilbur convinced him, that is.

“i’m also going to say that “villainization” and “calling out someone for hurting you” are not the same thing.”

yeah, they are. and dream was villainized.

so uh, first of all, wilbur literally said he was going to “use the tommyinnits of the world” in order to establish his capitalistic empire, then he called tommy “young”, “naïve”, and said that he likes him because he can build a foundation upon him, after which tommy questioned him and he said not to worry about it.

wilbur proceeded to lie to everyone including tommy about dream, the country he was establishing, to the point where tommy is seen confused in both the vassal scene and the revivedbur scene - asking why he would ally himself with dream both times, because he genuinely thought he was a bad person, a “dictator” they were fighting against.

wilbur didn’t reply either time, because he knew very well what he had done and he intended for tommy to think that.

during the entirely establishment he was exploiting the clingyduo not knowing anything about politics in order to enforce unhealthy patriotism onto them. he forced tommy to give up his hill-house and turn it into an embassy, guilt-tripping him by saying he doesn’t care about the cause (which was a lie) and that he can just leave if he doesn’t intend on being loyal.

and then there’s this scene:

Tommy: “Look at me in the eyes when I’m talking to you – There’s been some proper tyranny.”

[Wilbur pushes Tommy off the wall]

Wilbur: “Don’t tell me what to do, alright? You’re getting out of your comfort zone. Who’s the President? Tommy, who’s the President?”

Tommy: “How dare you, how dare you, you must respect manners, Wilbur! There are manners! There is a common etiquette that everyone must follow, my friend!”

Wilbur: “Tommy, who’s the President?”

Tommy: “…You’re the President.”

Wilbur: “Good lad, now come back.”

Tommy: “I – you’re gonna have to drop down a ladder, I’m not sure how we’re gonna –”

Wilbur: “Walk ‘round, walk ‘round, Mr. Vice President.”

and this is just before pogtopia. after this, wilbur proceeded to continue this kind of behaviour on tommy, with the whole “you’re never gonna be president” schtick - here we can see it actually didn’t start in pogtopia. wilbur had been pushing tommy down before in order to estabilish his own power and demand respect.

basically, tommy has been used by every adult figure he’s ever trusted and looked up to. which is part of why wilbur’s behaviour being ignored irks me so much, besides other things.

“when he was faced with a problem, he went for someone’s attachments as an attempt to get things back, and at this point hadn’t been called a villain. i see this as another precursor to the vault, again, the signs were there. the initial conflict of the disk war ended in general peace, it was the fact that dream never gave up those disks and continued to try and use them against tommy that hurt him.”

i disagree with this analysis of dream. he went for the discs because they were physically valuable at the time - tommy had only two, and he grinded hours for them, much like dream for his tools and armor. tommy formed an attachment to them as a result of the disc war, not the other way around.

he continued to use them for their attachment to get back l’manberg and then forcibly getting them back when the chance was provided.

dream didn’t use them once against c!tommy before he himself multiple times showcased how much he cared about them despite there being other discs at that point. dream only used them as placebo tokens to skeppy in order to get back something he was actually attached to, if i remember correctly.

dream fell deeper into using attachment because it became the only way to control his surroundings. no one had ever actually listened to him, and groups of people that had formed were too powerful for him to simply take on without reprocussions.

not only that, he became to lose control of everything - his friend’s house got burnt down and he wanted the person who did it to be held accountable? the leather of his dead horse got used to blackmail him! he was taught this from experience, not because he was “high on the power” or whatever your are implying was the reason.

“when he had then seen that dream would willingly hurt him, he began to call dream that and mean it.” he was taught dream to call dream a tyrant by wilbur, that’s literally what happened in canon. he did genuinely think he was a villain before the war, because that’s what wilbur told him and he trusted wilbur.

i am not taking everything wilbur says as truth. that man lies his mouth off every time he appears on screen. it’s just a character acknowledging what people who looked deeper into the narrative already knew. i’m not going to assume someone is lying when i logically know what he’s saying matches up with what i know to be true.

either way, here’s some more analyses on the subject you might wanna read to understand my points better and be able to more thoroughly rebut them: (1, 2, 3)

“with the sam thing, i am fairly certain that intentional withholding of food would be considered direct torture, and if that has not been retconned i would be surprised, but i don’t know.”

i… am genuinely sort of baffled at why you would think that? the prison arc is literally made to be about c!sam’s corruption, the mistreatment of dream (including mental and physical abuse) and c!quackity’s manipulation of the situation of his own gain. there is no reason to retcon the torture they put in on purpose? the prison arc is supposed to parallel exile and humanize dream. the people who have been analysing it all agree on that.

here’s a shorter (and outdated) list of the ways in which pandora’s is inhumane and here’s a longer one including things implied and more in-depth about c!sam and c!dream.

“the conditions are harsh and it’s interesting to remember that dream was the one who commissioned them in the first place (not meaning he deserves them, just food for thought)”

no, take your food back, i have heard this as a genuine excuse too many times by now. c!dream didn’t tell c!sam to physically and mentally abuse him. in fact he said that people would only be put in the main cell for 14 days max (the maximum amount of days before it becomes classified as torture by the united nations - man’s did his research), and they would have free reign of the prison. there have even been changes to the way the cell works since he’s been put in. he wasn’t going to subject anyone to the sort of thing he’s going through.

the only reason it’s happening to him is because people hate him and want him to suffer. the people of the server put him there because they thought they could use him later on, it’s a literal vault for a human being to be stored for later use, and it’s disgusting. people didn’t want him in the prison. they didn’t put him there to protect themselves. they were fully willing to kill him, and the only reason he is still alive is that they thought of him as an item and wanted to use his capabilities. (dream also buying into it, as he does with everything this godforsaken narrative enforces upon him, “i am the book”.)

i know it’s roleplay, but i’m emotionally invested in this arc, and it’s just so incredibly dark on purpose which people seem to ignore, so sorry for ranting.

“you say that you never said sam molded him into what he became, but you accuse the people of affecting dream and therefore forcing him into the role of the villain. i feel as if that is a type of molding?”

i’m saying no one molded dream on purpose, but what they all did (or should’ve done but didn’t) affected him in a very negative way nonetheless and should be acknowledged.

also, calling dream a monster or standing by while he gets ruthlessly murdered after following all orders and putting away all his armor and weapons isn’t very helpful of them.

“you saw it as skeppy “twisting his words”. this seems to be an example of someone calling dream on his crap, yeah? just because he’s twisting to defend himself doesn’t mean the other person is trying to make him be something he doesn’t want to be, it means that he’s uncomfortable or unable to deal with confrontation of his own acts and will attempt to justify them.”

no. i made an entire analysis of their interaction. that’s literally what he did, there is no softening that punch.

Dream: Anyway, um - you’re really making me out to be a bad guy! Like-

Dream: Look, we HAD to fight that war, okay? We had to fight that war, it was a necessary evil.

Skeppy: [Wheezes] No, it w- You’re telling me, you started the war too?

Dream: Yes! Because - listen-

Skeppy: You started it? It wasn’t even them, you started it-

Dream: Listen, they - they made a Declaration of Independence-

Skeppy: You one day woke up and said, “they don’t deserve that tiny piece of land”?

Dream: Well no, cause they made, they made a-

Skeppy: That’s literally what happened, one day you woke up and you said-

he continuously cuts him off while dream nervously expresses his discomfort over skeppy making him out to be the villain, and his refusal to listen. here’s my analysis of the interaction if you’d like to read it.

“i think it’s unfair to say that nobody tried to help him. people still treated him with respect and kindness for a long time and with those bonds it was ultimately him that cut them.”

no. name one bond that he cut first. george and sapnap? they left him first. sam, puffy, punz? he wasn’t as close with them, but he didn’t cut any of them off before they showed up during the disc finale ready to kill him. if that doesn’t count as them cutting attachments or abandoning him then i… don’t really know what you would call it?

“it feels a little victim-blamey to say that if only they had treated the guy hurting them better, maybe he wouldn’t have hurt them as much.” “you do say that dream is responsible for his actions, but you place the reason he did his actions on other people, effectively blaming them for how he turned out. this rubs me the wrong way because a lot of the people you accuse of doing this were people directly being harmed by him, and so it ends up sounding like they’re at fault for their own pain.”

well, it’s true, though? he was hurt and abandoned to the point when he didn’t care about hurting others anymore. that’s it. that’s his character arc. it’s not “victim-blamey”, it’s a fact. just because he ended up hurting people doesn’t negate the fact he was hurt himself first. the environment they all were a part of pushed him this far, and that’s just what happened.

the dream smp is a literal cycle of violence perpetuated by each and every one of them, and it’s awful for all of them. the problem is that they refuse to see things from others’ perspective and end up hurting each other as a result, which dream is a prime example of. that’s just the plot of the story, not victim-blaming anyone.

see the second to last line of my original post. “the entire dream smp is absolutely screwed, and every single one of them needs therapy.”

here’s another thread about that, actually!

i’m blaming the environment which includes the actions (which were often - not always - unintentional mistakes) of the individuals, i’m not saying they “brought this upon themselves” or anything of that sort. everyone makes mistakes and those mistakes might affect other people and how they act, but that’s not saying i’m blaming anyone for being hurt?

“sapnap still considered him a good guy up until the moment that he saw the space for beckerson in the vault.”

see you keep bringing this up but that doesn’t make sense at all. sapnap came into the vault before he saw that. he made the conscious decision to ally himself with tommy during doomsday before he saw that. he accused dream of not caring about him and george, and left to make his own country before he saw that. you get the point?

the vault was the direct consequence of the hurt he’d endured, so i don’t see why you would ever list it as a reason for people abandoning him? the prison is just them continuing it, although at this point they might have actual reasons, it doesn’t negate the fact that they ignore his bad conditions and even perpetuate them.

“dream was not alone until he chose to be alone. it was tragic that he chose that, but it was ultimately his choice and this is evidenced by the vault.”

people do not decide to isolate themselves for no reason. people started cutting him off first, they turned against him first, they made him the villain first, they used what he loved against him first, they told him he couldn’t ever achieve peace first. he only cut himself off only after all of that happened, and i would’ve done the same! you would’ve done the same. it was a defence mechanism that only sent him deeper down his mental spiral, but it was a reaction, not a decision he made. the vault is a physical embodiment of how deep down he went and how bad his state of mind had gotten overtime through neglect.

also, you might wanna give the vault vod a rewatch as well, and then tell me the person saying those things is mentally healthy and definitely doesn’t need help.

oh! also, a thread on attachment about dream. worth a read.

just because a response is an overreaction or wrong doesn’t make it any less of a response. nearly all of the things dream did was a reaction of some sort.

he lists his reason for starting the war as them declaring independence, so i don’t think it really matters when the official document was sent.

“he also initiated the final disk conflict, with the clear intention of murdering tubbo and putting tommy in the prison as a sort of thing for his amusement. he said multiple times that he found the struggle with tommy “fun”, and said their fight wasn’t over because he personally found it engaging to torment another person, and that was how he got power.”

oh yeah, that definitely seems like something the guy who’s only ever listed his reasons as being peace and has been mentally declining ever since would be completely honest about in front of his biggest enemy. /s

the thing is, the way dream behaves in front of tommy is starkly different than everyone else. c!dream sees him as the “hero” and himself as the “villain”, which is why the pushing of the narrative on his part is so strong when they interact.

besides, so many things he says simply don’t match up at all.

basically, he is very obviously playing a part when he says things like this. nothing he says like that matches up with anything else about his character, and that’s the only explanation. besides, this man’s evil monologues are straight out of a “how to be a scary villain” book.

no discredit to cc!dream of course, but it’s like that intentionally. cc!dream has said after this that c!dream is “reserved” not only about his feelings but also about his “plans” and “intentions”. that quite doesn’t match up with what he yells at the top of his lungs during that scene, now does it? his mask’s very convincing, to be fair, so i don’t blame you. he’s gotten good at playing his part over the years, which makes sense seeing as it was always expected of him, and other people would talk for him if he didn’t do it himself.

“there are a lot of conflicts that dream has started.”

...alright? list any other ones besides the last one?

“buying his line of “only caring about unity” and “trying to prevent chaos” … he uses this many times as an excuse for his actions, and the fact that he was still excusing and justifying his actions makes me think that he still genuinely believed he was right.”

well yes, because he does believe that. he uses the excuse because it’s true. the justification isn’t right of course, but he is not lying when he says those are his motivations, which is backed up by his prior explanations as well as actions. i am not buying anything, it’s what’s become evident from analysing him that that is what he wants to achieve. it doesn’t excuse anything, but saying that’s truly his end goal isn’t incorrect.

becoming a control freak as a result of feeling the loss of control over your own circumstances isn’t equal to dehumanizing the people you’re trying to control.

he didn’t ever take george’s personal freedom. he didn’t start using attachments because he thought it was convenient. i have literally no idea where you’re getting these claims from.

“dream’s actions during exile and the vault do not look like those of a man who is trying to get better but thinks he “has” to be something. honestly, it looks like a guy on a power trip who thinks he’s god and is going to try and prove it.”

both of those are wild misinterpretation of the character. which is understandable seeing as you’ve said already you never tried to look deeper into him, but it’s incorrect nonetheless.

he was trying to get better up until the 16th, which is when the bad things that happened to him stopped going up and instead went downhill, like, really fast. alright, that metaphor probably makes no sense, but you get the point. he had stopped trying at the point of exile, is the point. but he also does think he has to be something in order to “fix” his home.

he wasn’t on a power trip at all, he didn’t have a god complex up until the prison stripped him of all his dignity and then threw an opportunity at him, and he wasn’t trying to prove anything to anyone. that’s an easily debunkable assumption, but, well, guess it’s easy to make.

“there is a clip in which dream says he doesn’t really care how others see him and he doesn’t care if they think he’s bad.” yeah, i know he said that a couple of times. that’s him going numb after he was affected by how others saw him for way too long, which is completely natural. again, a psychological defence mechanism. him saying that he doesn’t mind others calling him a villain or a monster and even seems to agree that his methods are villainous but has just stopped caring makes the situation all the more messed up. makes the character all the more tragic.

“it requires dream to be lying about how he feels all the time. not technically impossible, because he does not talk about emotions.” he is emotionally repressed. it’s not just “not technically impossible”, it’s likely and fits perfectly into his character arc in canon.

“and if a writer is telling their story in a way that only makes sense if you disregard everything they say, i feel like it’s not very good storytelling, unless that is the entire point and the character is based on that.”

see, you get the point here. cc!wilbur is literally the man with an arg around him that has still not been solved. why would he hand us everything on a silver platter? why would he not force us to dig deeper and look beneath what is widely accepted? he literally talks about unreliable narrators constantly poking fun at how the audience seems to take things the characters say at face value, and i’d say early c!wilbur is a prime example of that. it is good storytelling because cc!wilbur pulls it off brilliantly.

it’s also called “the metanarrative”, which is a giant focus of the dream smp if you look closer, especially during the time cc!wilbur has been writing it, especially the establishment of l’manberg where he constantly talks hypocritically on purpose (he said something along the lines of “dream, you can’t just come onto someone’s land and take it for yourself, are you an idiot?” during the early days along with other things e. g. blatant trump references “we’ll build a wall and make the mexicans pay for it”, which i find hilarious) and you know what, good for him. people not being able to tell things go deeper than their feelings is, you know, valid, but also fun to watch, and cc!wilbur’s a controlled chaotic crimeboy.

“people stood by dream. people helped him.” none of them did that for long. “dream still had a system up until the moment he isolated himself” his main support system left by themselves.

i think you’re sort of purposefully discarding a lot of things and misinterpreting the character. it also seems you’re strongly biased against c!dream, which, to be fair, the majority of the fandom is.

look, i don’t want to attack your feelings about characters. you think what you want. but i’m basing my assumptions on evidence and also try to bring up evidence when i think people are misunderstanding because i believe it’s important to know the full truth. however, i understand the desire to not change your opinions if you feel attached to your current perspective - it's a piece of entertainment, you enjoy it the way you want to. you asked about it first though, so i’m giving you my opinion. we can stop at any time if you feel like we’re not getting anywhere, i’m completely fine with that.

i don’t want to seem aggressive, but i feel like at some points we’re just going in circles. would you consider talking over discord chat (better at writing longer messages than tumblr messages) so we can tackle each problem individually in real-time? no worries if you don’t, just thought it could work rather well to get somewhere in our discussion.

also, sorry for the surely numerous typos in this reply. i didn't have the mental energy to go back and proofread.

either way, have a nice day.

[bigskydreaming]

I don’t often muse upon PJO, but when I do, its random as hell. 

Anyway, tonight’s thought (singular, also: derogatory, as in very possibly a mistake) is about exploring aspects of the Greek gods that are extrapolations of like, what they’d be like in the modern world instead of just in terms of their ancient myths.....and how that might widen the scope of their demigod children and their powers.

Like take Hephaestus for instance. God of the forge and fire, of invention and artifice......now widen the scope on those things through the lens of the modern age.....might he also be considered the god of modern science, not just in terms of things like engineering and technology, but also physics, chemistry? Or would those things fall more under Athena’s purview......unless you separated them into finer divisions. Like, you could consider Athena’s overview of knowledge and wisdom to make her the goddess of science and higher learning or whatever in general........OR you could separate it like.....Hephaestus is the god of natural or physical sciences like physics and chemistry, and Athena is the goddess of not just wisdom and tactics but things like psychology, computer sciences, etc.

Or OR get Dionysus up in there too, and make it like Hephaestus is the god of chemistry, of chemical reactions and the like, Athena is the goddess of physics, of the most full and complete understanding of the physical universe via things like the unified field theory and its comprising forces of electromagnetism, strong and weak nuclear force, etc, and then Dionysus the god of biology, hmmmm.....

Cuz imagine then, demigod children of Hephaestus, where instead of pyrokinesis, some get powers like transmuting elements.......oh man, the things you could do with that??? Not just lead into gold but they’d be terrors in battle because they could transmute the very air someone breathes into chlorine gas, blood into acid, flesh into stone. Or using that power defensively, making them able to keep guns from firing by dampening the chemical reaction that comes from igniting gunpowder, or just knocking someone out or putting them to sleep by just tanking their metabolic reactions. Mingling magic with modern know-how and creating their own version of truth serums by turning the water someone drinks into something akin to sodium pentathol when just brushing their fingers against someone’s glass, or rendering all drugs or toxins that might have been slipped into their drink null and void by transmuting them into harmless H20. 

(I know that Luke was mentioned briefly as being good at making potions aka alchemy due to being a son of Hermes, but frankly, transmutation as a mastery of the periodic table makes waaaaay more sense for Hephaestus’ kids, I’m just saying. And plus the Greeks didn’t so much consider Hermes an actual god of alchemy as they more just kinda viewed him as their god of all things miscellaneous and tended to lump anything they didn’t have particularly strong feelings about and/or a grasp of under his umbrella. Hermes was really just the patron god of being random as fuck and oh great gods of Olympus I have no idea what I want to do with my life, give me a sign. Hermes: poofs into existence on their shoulder and says SOUNDS LIKE YOU NEED TO GO BE GAY AND DO CRIME YOU HEARD IT HERE FIRST, DIVINE MANDATE, LETS GOOOOOOO).

Give children of Athena more practical applications for being heirs to her wisdom, knowledge and strategic acumen by also giving her dominion in the modern age over humanity’s quest to better understand the universe we live in and all its rules, the ins and outs of the laws that govern reality itself.......thus Annabeth and others’ potential acumen for magic being here not the end result of them stepping on Hecate and her kids’ toes, but rather more a function of making them the embodiment of ‘magic is just sufficiently advanced technology’ as they - via an innate and heightened understanding of the very nature of the physical universe - find holes in the fabric of space and time that let them slip from Point A to Point B as easily as crossing the street, play tricks with gravity and relativity and things that leave others baffled and amazed and them just shrugging and being like its all in the wrist, dude, and also, the fact that our mom just GETS reality in a way that everyone else will still be playing catch-up to a thousand years from now.

Children of Dionysus (yes I know he barely has any shhh we’re not paying attention to the series we’re just musing on demigod powers here) who combine the godhood of grapes and revelry with loud music and laughter......the way music can help with plant growth, because music is essentially just VIBRATIONS and vibrations stimulate activity in plant cells in a variety of ways.....and thus similar to Mr. D’s tricks with controlling vines and rapidly growing plants, AND his ability to affect the psyches of others, which is described as inflicting or curing madness and I’m like ehhhh do we have to describe it thus though.....put all that in a pot, shake it, not stir, and abrakadabra, alakazam, other psychic pokemon random Psyduck shout-out and voila! ALL of that could be afixed to and made the end product of godly and demigodly control and manipulation of vibrations, cuz Dionysus is literally the god of just vibing in all its infinite forms.....and thus its all just about how vibrations affect plant life on a cellular level, how they can affect brain chemistry in a variety of ways, triggering a lot of the more primal centers/functions of the brain, etc. You kids are driving me crazy, he’d yell at his demigod kids, and they’re like umm wow, like ACK CHOO UGHLY, father, welcome to the 21st century, all we’re really doing is directly stimulating the prefrontal cortex of your cerebellum with our banging rock music, and its making you angy, what about it?

And speaking of actually, if we and by we I mean me cuz I am and its wheee, are theorizing about Athena’s brood getting to be all magical wunderkind whizkids with their scientific acumen and divine cheat-sheets for the physical universe, maybe Aphrodite and her kids could snatch up those psychology and psychiatry job titles instead. Love, desire, also things like obsession, hyper-fixation......is Cabin Mighty Aphrodite really just pheromone central or are its campers more like magical dopamine and serotonin factories just pumping out good vibes all around them, being like come hang out, its free brain juice. Like, imagine kids of Aphrodite who just by their mere presence could help the legions of ADHD demigods focus better, concentrate easier, get shit done because the goddess of passion and her children like....have the gift of helping people to more productively pursue their passions in ALL forms, not just the physical desires they hold for others but the passions they hold for arts and crafts and sports and y’know, saving the world on magical coming-of-age quests when their milkshakes bring all the monsters to the yard. 

And then Ares not just as a god of war and conflict, but of entropy....the tendency of the universe to trend towards disorder, randomness, uncertainty....the kind of things that so often incite or enflame conflict......but applied at large not just to interpersonal dynamics but to the world itself. With his children possessing demigod abilities that disrupt or weaken bonds, both in the form of emotional ties between allies and commitments towards various ideals or courses of action, but also the ability to PHYSICALLY weaken bonds, resulting in an enemy’s weapon falling apart at a touch, or increasing the instability or volatility of an object so it blows up akin to how Gambit of the X-Men’s powers work and can turn even playing cards into a weapon, etc, etc.

And don’t even get me started on Hermes! No, seriously, don’t. Mostly because I haven’t thought that one through yet and I got nothing. I mean I got some things but they are nebulous and have yet to spring forth fully formed from my head like Athena from the fuckhead of Zeus, that absolute fuckhead of legend and yore. In my defense though, I haven’t like, eaten any primordial goddesses of thought and memory, so.......like, idk, I’m taking the longer route here I guess.

[side-shawty]

Burn VIII (Stark!Reader)

VIII: Yellow Lights

Fandom: Marvel (MCU)

Type: series

Prompt/Summary: Everyone needs to be reassured sometimes

Pairing(s): Peter Parker x Stark!reader, Tony Stark x daughter!reader

Requested? YES

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

•

“May! I can’t find my belt!” Peter yelled from his room, he had been searching frantically all morning. 

“Which one?” May called back, most likely from in front of the TV in the living room. 

“The black one that Ben gave me,” he replied and heard May move from her spot but instead of concentrating on her, he continued his quest.

“This one?” May said from his doorway. He looked toward her from his seated spot in front of his closet.

He stood almost immediately, “Yes! May, you’re a wizard,” he said kissing her cheek and taking the belt before tossing it onto his unmade bed.

“If I was, I’d be able to get you to keep your room clean,” She said as he haphazardly shoved things into his drawer and forced his closet door closed.

“I’ll clean it tomorrow, promise. Isn’t Sunday like a cleaning day anyways?” Peter asked moving to pack his backpack for the day.

“Sure,” May said moving to sit on his bed. “Peter I have to ask you something before tonight,” she said and the serious tone made Peter pay close attention to her but not halt his actions.

“What is it?” 

“What exactly is going on between you and Y/N?” May asked and Peter finally stopped what he was doing to turn to her with wide eyes. Peter had told her some of what was going on but not nearly everything.

He cleared his throat, “Well, um, I — she,” he began but couldn’t seem to get the right words out.

May stood at his distress and put her hands on his shoulders. He had gotten so tall since first becoming Spiderman but he was still her little Peter that lost too much too fast.

“Breathe, honey. Happy has already told me the gist of it but I just wanted to hear it from you. Are you dating?” May asked and his newly relaxed shoulders were tense all over again.

“I don’t think so,” he began, looking somewhere over her head, “I like her a lot but I don’t want to rush anything. And I mean we’ve been on dates but I haven’t asked her to be my girlfriend or anything,” he finished.

“Well, I think you should. You haven’t fallen over yourself this much since Liz,” she said and this made him look at her. “But it’s different this time, the look in your eyes is so much brighter and happier when you talk about her. There’s no hiding or secrets. When you’re together you just look like two happy teenagers,” May smiled and Peter couldn’t help the smile that pushed through the blush on his cheeks.

“Thanks May. You think I should ask her tonight?”

“I do,” she started, “But for the love of god please try and make it romantic. This venue is gonna give you a pretty good head start already,” she said before pulling him into a quick hug.

~~~

Nothing in your life had ever gone so smoothly. When you got to the venue the ballroom was set up perfectly. The only thing you had to do was wait for the flower arrangements and favors to be delivered. 

You were doing a final walkthrough when the flower arrangements arrived and you knew this was the end of your smooth sailing. 

There were supposed to be red and white peonies at the entrances and similar but not matching ones for the stage but when they arrived the peonies for entrances were red and the rather large ones for the stage were baby blue.

It took everything not to lose it on the delivery guy. It wasn’t his job but you’d be damned if you didn’t show him at least a bit of the fire in your eyes so he had a story to tell his superiors.

Twenty minutes later you got a frantic call from the florists telling them they would be there in less than 30 minutes with red peonies. Pepper had given you a serious talk about needing to be stern when working with businesspeople because you had always been framed as “Tony’s sweet innocent daughter” and they would walk all over you because of that. 

It was really paying off now.

Once the flowers were fixed you took a deep breath. You could feel your body temperature rising and the last thing you needed right now was for your venue to literally go up in flames.

You oversaw as the rest of the setup went smoothly and two hours before the doors opened you went to the venue’s bridal suite to get ready. 

You had changed into a dressing robe and were finishing on your hair when there was a light knock on the door.

“Come in,” you called, not taking your eyes off the mirror.

“Wow your hair looks so pretty Y/N/N,” you heard Morgan’s voice and you turned to face her and your mother with a smile on your face.

You opened your arms as she ran to you.

“I wish my hair curled like that,” She said tugging at her loose curls a bit sadly. They were almost identical to the ones your dad had at her age. 

You decided on keeping it natural because even the very beginning summer in the city was hot and humid sometimes and you didn’t really have time to get protective styles done anymore. 

“What? You have the cutest little curls I’ve ever seen,” you told her pinching at her cheeks as she settled onto you lap.

“Really?” She asked as you continued on your own hair.

“Yup,” you said popping the ‘P’ before your mother joined you both in the mirror and took the products from your hands.

“It looks beautiful downstairs Firefly. You really outdid yourself,” She said and began putting your hair into the updo you had showed her days prior.

Pepper had been doing your hair since you were little because your father had been a lost cause from the very start. He didn’t fare much better with Morgan’s hair either.

“Thanks mom, I learned from the best,” you said smiling at her and she couldn’t help but smile back as she pulled your hair into a ponytail but allowing a few curls to stay out and frame your face.

This was the most relaxed you’d been all day. As your mom finished your hair and Morgan took an interest in a game on your phone. You closed your eyes, only for them to shoot open at the question your mother posed.

“So is Peter officially your boyfriend now?” The question came after your hair was done so you quickly whipped your head around to face her. Careful not to drop your sister.

Who had subsequently gasped excitedly at your mother’s question, “Does that mean that Peter is my brother for-real now?” You snapped your head back around to look at her.

These two were going to give you whiplash.

“Wait. Stop. He’s not my boyfriend,” you told them.

“Do you want him to be?” Morgan asked.

“Yes, no…maybe,” you said and Pepper’s eyes softened at the distress in your voice.

She walked around so that she was leaning on the vanity in front of you. She gave you the look and that was all it took for you to cave.

“I mean I do but is it too soon? I mean it’s not like Harley has my heart anymore but I don’t want to rush into anything,” you told her.

“You know it took your father and me eleven years before we finally decided to tie the knot. Granted we had been together for a few years before that and that man is actually insane,” she said and gave a wistful smile, you and Morgan laughed lightly. 

“But sometimes I wish we had dived in head first, especially after you came into our lives. I always knew I loved him, even when I denied it so even though what you and Peter have right now might not be love yet it’s worth taking a risk. You’re only young once,” She smiled at you when she was done and you smiled back. 

You hesitated for a spilt second before saying, “You’re right, thanks mom,” she smiled and gave you a kiss on the cheek before lifting Morgan from your lap.

“Anytime sweetheart. Now finish getting ready, you’ve only got an hour and a half and Peter will be here in an hour with Happy and May,” she told you as Morgan gave you your phone back and they headed for the exit.

“Aye, aye Captain,” you saluted and she rolled her eyes.

~~~

Your makeup was done quickly and almost as perfectly as if you had gone to a professional. You had been coming to events like this since you were younger than Morgan and that meant that you had makeup down to a perfect science.

All that was left was for you to put on your gown and shoes. 

Unzipping the garment bag you were once again floored by the beauty of the gown. One of your mother’s friends had begged to make custom gowns for the three of you and had pulled out all the stops.

The gown was a deep red with thin straps and a deep v-neck on the fitted bodice. The dress flowed from your waist effortlessly only interrupted by a slit halfway up your thigh. There was no beading, just perfectly draped silk that shone as the light hit it.

You dressed quickly accessorizing with a diamond earring and necklace set that your father had gotten you for your 17th birthday. Finally, you made sure the bangles for your suit were secured to your wrists before slipping into your heels.

You checked the mirror once more before hearing a knock on the door. 

“Come in,” you called for the second time that day.

Turning to face the door you were greeted with an already-smiling Peter and you couldn’t help the warmth you felt creeping under your chocolate skin when his delight turned stunned. 

“Wow, Y/N, you look incredible,” he said as you took in his appearance. 

Sure you had seen Peter in a suit before but never like this. He was all hair gel and muscles in black on black and you weren’t sure your heart could handle it if he kept staring at you like that.

His top two buttons were undone as he held his tie in his hand.

“Thanks Peter. You clean up pretty nicely yourself,” you said before walking over and giving him a kiss on the cheek. 

“Thanks,” he said and had finally looked away long enough so that his own cheeks produced an adorable flush.

“Um, Mrs. Stark said you could give me a hand with this,” he said holding up his tie.

“Of course,” you said, your voice was soft as you tried to ease both of your nerves.

He was silent as you began wrapping the black tie around his neck. The only thing special about it was the single red stripe down the center that matched your gown.

After you were finished the air felt even more awkward, neither of you moving back from your very close proximity. You looked at him, taking in his features and when he looked back you realized that tonight would be intense if he kept up with that stare.

You caught his eyes as they slipped down to peek at your lips and did the same, as he looked back up. A silent affirmation of exactly what he wanted.

He held your waist tightly and pulled you closer to him almost agonizingly slowly. Frustrated, you tugged at his tie and his lips fell softly onto your own.

And that was all it took for you to lose yourself in Peter. Suddenly there was no gala, or press, or superheroes. It was just you and a boy you thought the world of who was holding you and kissing you as if you were the only one who he ever had eyes for.

As you moved your arms to lock around his neck you felt his tighten around your waist and any part of you that wasn’t flush against him had ignited as your body met his.

You could spend the rest of your life completely lost in Peter’s kisses.

That was until three quick raps on the door startled the two of you into breaking apart and look to said door,

“Five minutes, Y/N!” Happy called from the other side and didn’t wait for a reply, just retreating with heavy footsteps.

You and Peter laughed together as you looked back at each other. All the awkwardness from earlier seemingly fading away as you untangled and straightened out your clothes. 

Peter fell into a bow, “Shall we m’lady?” He asked and you laughed squeezing his outstretched hand.

“Yeah let me just fix my lipstick,” you winked at him and he blushed.

•

NEXT CHAPTER

[queencarolinemikaelson]

A Mystery Never Fully Explained

//Klaroline AU Week// - Day 1 - All Human AU

x

There really was no two ways about it, Klaus Mikaelson was a diva.

A prima donna, even.

There was an urban legend in the theatre industry that once, while rehearsing his role as Beast in Beauty and the Beast, Klaus opted to sit his dressing room, rather than ‘save’ his leading lady from the wolf attack at the beginning of act two.

“I was just throwing the moron to the wolves,” Klaus allegedly said smugly, to the rightly irate director.

Yep, he was biggest drama queen in the theatre industry.

All who worked with him agreed Klaus was actually a soprano in a baritone’s body. Though they would never say it to his face. Nope, to his face, all were perfectly lovely.

Because, no matter how many three-year-old-esque tantrums he threw, or crazy demands he slung at a company, or assistants he fired, Klaus Mikaelson was still the best.

Contemptuous he may have been until the very last second, but once he was under the spotlight, he was magic.

No note, nor line was missed. His honey voice caressed every ear like a lover. His impeccable acting could bring to life every character from King Herod to Jean Valjean.

So naturally, when casting for a reinvigorated West End production of Phantom of the Opera, whom else was to set to play the titular character?

Rehearsals certainly weren’t easy for the crew.

The nature of the show meant already two divas needed to be cast for the roles of Christine and Carlotta. How were they to cope with a third.

But they had managed to make it to opening day without too many scuffles until – 

“What the bloody hell do you mean Bonnie’s in the hospital!?” Klaus roared. “Who is going to do my make up?”

“Have some compassion, Niklaus!” Elijah, Klaus’ brother – who also happened to be his manager, (and what was more pertinent, the only one who could make any sense of a tantrumming Klaus) – sighed. “She is in the hospital, after a car accident!”

“We are opening in three and a half bloody hours, Elijah! I refuse to have my Phantom butchered by some blonde-bimbo-beauty-school-drop-out, playing face paint, just because Bonnie decided to have an accident!”

“Oh be reasonable,” Elijah snapped, though made the mental note to tell Ms Bennett just how indignant Klaus was about working with anyone else. Surely that was some vote of confidence? “She was hit by a car!”

Klaus glowered, but didn’t return fire. Even Klaus, diva or not, knew car accidents were bad.

“There are two options,” Elijah said, after both men had a moment to calm themselves. “You can have your makeup done by the associate head of make up. This will require you to leave your dressing room, and join some of the other cast members.”

“I don’t mingle with the peasants, Elijah,” Klaus pouted, petulantly. “They chatter and natter about inane things, and I cannot focus on what is important. Which is the work!”

“Fine! The second option is you trust Bonnie’s substitute. A Ms Caroline Forbes, currently the head of artistry on Broadway’s Phantom of the Opera.”

Klaus rolled his eyes intensely. He hated Broadway. He hated working on Broadway. And with people who worked on Broadway. And just people in general, but that was beside the point.

“Brother, my feelings about Broadway aside, I’m not sure if you’ve seen a globe recently. But this is London. Not New York City.”

It was Elijah’s turn to roll his eyes – honestly maybe it was time to quit, and live as far away from Klaus as possible.

“I’m well aware of the geography, Niklaus,” Elijah groaned, rather uncharacteristically. “Ms Forbes, an old friend of Ms Bennett, is currently visiting London. Had tickets for tonight’s show, in fact, so is very well placed to aid us tonight.”

“Fine,” Klaus grumbled, after a moment of contemplation – though there wasn’t much to contemplate, no make up was so bad that he would endure the blather of other cast members. “This Broadway woman will have to do. But I refuse to be pleasant to her.”

“I would expect nothing more of you, Niklaus.”

Just then, there was a knock at the door of Klaus’ dressing room.

 “Ahh, that will be her.”

 “You did not just approve her to come backstage before consulting me brother!” Klaus growled.

“Well,” Elijah said, buttoning his suit jacket as he stood up, an air of finality in his tone. “As you so eloquently put it, brother you’re ‘opening in three and a half bloody hours’, there really isn’t any time for your arguments.”

Elijah strode away from the sulking Klaus, and greeted the woman on the other side of the door.

“Ms Forbes,” he said politely. “Please come in, and thank you so much for this, the company is indebted to you.”

“Please, call me Caroline,” Klaus heard a bright, cheery voice say, though she was still blocked from his sightline. “Anything for Bonnie!”

“And how is she after the accident?”

“Shaken,” the woman said, her bubbly voice suddenly laced with worry. “Her injuries are mostly superficial, but her arm will be in plaster for the next few weeks.”

“I see,” Elijah said, before they both came round the corner, and Klaus was able to get a good look her for the first time. “This is Niklaus.”

“Hi!” she said, smiling a smile so bright, he should have been wearing sunglasses. “Caroline.”

She held out her hand for him to shake, but Klaus just looked spitefully at it, before looking away.

Klaus couldn’t believe his misfortune. She was a blonde bimbo.

“Right,” Caroline said, a little disheartened, as she withdrew her hand.

“Anyway, Miss Forbes, I’m terribly sorry, but I have to dash. The world does not cease for Niklaus, although he’d like to believe it would. I’ll catch up with you both later.”

The two of them chuckled together, much to Klaus’ chagrin, and then Elijah left, the same way Caroline had just arrived.

“So,” Caroline said, sitting herself daintily beside him. “You and Bonnie have been working on some pretty cool techniques for your look.”

Klaus said nothing, just stared pointedly at her.

“She took me through her plans for tonight, anything you –”

“We actually open very soon, and I would very much appreciate it if you just got on with it,” Klaus snipped. “Though try not to talk, love. It will be a bit painful otherwise.”

“There’s no need to be rude,” she said, as she raised her eyebrows coolly. “I was just going to ask, if there’s anything you wanted to tell me before you get started. Latex allergy, warm ups that need doing, that kind of thing.”

“No, nothing to share,” he muttered. “And as if I would need to do warm ups.”

“Okay!” Caroline said brightly, trying to ignore his cockiness. “Then let’s get –”

“I do warm up, but not near the help,” Klaus interrupted. “If you want a free show then go back to Broadway.”

“Yep, I get the picture. I’m just going to –”

“Urgh, the quality of Broadway is nothing on the talent of those of us on West End.”

���Mmhmm, I understand, Broadway is the worst. But please –“

“In fact, I swear Broadway casting directors just goes to Times Square and nab any old riff-raff street performer to make up their ensembles. It’s lunacy _”

“Uh huh, I get it, Broadway suck, but Klaus I really –“

“I’m literally the best in the country. I have won multiple tony awards, even a grammy award. I have more original cast recordings under my belt than –”

In years to come, Caroline would swear herself black and blue that it was an accident. That it was a mere, yet mildly severe, slip of the hand brought about by loss of concentration because of Klaus’ continual ramblings.

And she would never live it down. But she would also be revered by many because she actually managed to make Klaus Mikaelson shut the hell up for once in his life.

For, at that exact moment, Caroline’s deft hands wiped fast drying liquid latex over Klaus’ mouth, and Klaus, who was completely stunned by the movement, did not move quickly enough before the latex dried.

Sealing it completely shut.

“Oh my god, Klaus, I’m so sorry!” Caroline said, with all the correct emotions. She certainly sounded convincingly mortified, until she followed up the with a quirked eyebrow and the comment, “though, try not to talk, love. It will be a bit painful otherwise.”

And, to Caroline’s amazement, Klaus stopped squirming, stopped trying to form words when his amplifier was completely blocked, and Caroline was finally able to get to work.

“What a happy little accident,” Caroline said, jovially, now a little more at ease that he wasn’t being so obnoxious. “Might just snap a little picture, I’m sure Elijah would appreciate it.” 

Klaus narrowed both his eyes at her.

“Oh? Don’t like that idea?”

Klaus just remained stock still, the menacing look still etched on his face.

“But you are so cute when you’re not talking!” Caroline joked, before quickly realising what she said, and going a lovely shade of magenta.

Somehow, Klaus managed to smirk, even without full use of his mouth.

“Oh don’t look at me like that,” Caroline said, with all the bravado of someone trying to dig themselves out of a hole. “You know you’re cute, why deny it?”

Klaus just shrugged, and dismissively inspected his nails.

“Fine, let’s get on with it,” Caroline said. “And if you’re a good sport, I’ll dissolve the latex before it’s time to sing!”

xxx

“All done!” Caroline beamed, happily inspecting her work.

It was a little under two hours since Caroline began Klaus’ transformation, and a little under twenty minutes since she freed him from his gag.

In the past twenty minutes, even though he had the option of railroading her for having the audacity to seal his damn mouth shut, Klaus found himself, funnily enough, keeping his damn mouth shut.

Experiencing Caroline as she worked was rather mesmerising.

She certainly wasn’t anywhere near just a blonde-bimbo-beauty-school-drop-out as he feared. She was very talented, extremely precise, and had an almost unparalleled eye for detail.

But further than that, at any given moment, her face was liable twist and change, letting him know exactly what was going on. It was rather endearing.

She filled the silence in with bits of chatter, about the different steps she was up to in his transformation, about her life, and just about many inane things really.

And, though Klaus despised the inane, coming from Caroline it felt natural and a little bit lovely.

“You do look fantastic,” Caroline said, proudly, spinning him around in his chair so he could more closely inspect her work. “Definitely like a weird dungeon dweller who’d fall in love with beautiful young things who sing to you!”

“Then you nailed the brief love,” Klaus quipped. “I don’t recognise myself.”

“Well, I would be worried if you did!” Caroline giggled, squeezing his shoulder briefly. “Then you would have to admit to me that you’re a weird dungeon dweller who’d fall in love with beautiful young things who sing to you!”

“I’d never admit it, love,” he said nonchalantly. “Though, I have to say sincerely, your work is impeccable. Bonnie’s work is excellent, but you’ve provided just an extra spritz of something else.”

“Not bad for a Broadway babe, huh?” Caroline winked, nudging him with her hip.

“Not bad at all.”

In that moment of eye contact that so often follows a tease, Caroline was stolen by the glint in Klaus’ eye.

“So umm,” she said, looking away. “Where to next for you, Mr Phantom, sir?”

“Warm up, last minute director notes, back here for a costume and touch ups.”

“I’ll stay here until you’re ready for your touch ups.”

“I look forward to it.”

And with a wink, Klaus was off.

xxx

A few hours later, Caroline was back in front of Klaus’ face, tenderly wiping away the residual make up.

The show had gone off seamlessly. And honestly, Klaus was so completely on cloud nine by how it all went, he was actually being pleasant to those around him.

And now he was with Caroline again, and that was a joy in and of itself. Though he’d never ever admit it to anyone.

Klaus couldn’t help noting how soft and delicate Caroline’s fingers, and the stroked along his skin at different places.

“Nearly done,” Caroline murmured, concentrating on removing a particularly stubborn strip of latex. “Nearly done.”

“Not a problem, love,” Klaus said, absently. “This is the most relaxed I’ve felt in months.”

“Opening night behind you,” she replied. “That’s got to be a relief.”

“Mmm.”

He shut his eyes, and felt himself get mildly lost in the sensations, until –

“Klaus,” she said, softly.

“Mmm?”

“We’re finished.” 

“Oh.”

“Umm,” Caroline said, searching for something to say. “I guess I’m done for the night, unless…”

“Unless?” Klaus prompted.

“Well, I’m really hungry, but I don’t know where is any good around here…”

“Are you asking me out?” Klaus smirked.

“What! No?” Caroline blustered. “I mean, I am asking you to go out, but not out. Not like on a date out.”

“Glad to hear you’re so indignant at the idea of a date with me,” Klaus teased in mock offence.

“I’m not indignant! Dating you would be fun, I think! But this wasn’t a date! I’m just hungry, and I thought you would be too!”

“Dating me would be fun would it?”

“Oh shut up. I’m leaving.”

Caroline grabbed her coat and huffily stalked from the room.

“But you’re hungry, and don’t know where to eat,” Klaus grinned, hurriedly gathering his own things so he could follow her out.

“I can google it, I just thought company might be nice,” she snipped. “Glad you arrested me of my illusions so promptly.”

“You wound me, love!” he laughed, catching her hand in his, and stroking a thumb along it gently – apparently her skin was as soft under his hands, as it was on his face. “Come on, let me take you to my favourite post show hang out. You’ll love it.”

Caroline stopped walking, and narrowed her eyes at him.

“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

“Not a chance, love,” Klaus quipped.

Caroline couldn’t help the wry smile stretch across her lips.

“Fine.”

And so it was, the two went to that post show hang out that night. And the night after that. And the one after that. Until Caroline had to leave, back to her home, back to Broadway.

And, in a mystery never fully explained, Klaus put aside his distaste for the iconic New York creative hub, and somehow ended living in New York, reprising his role as the Phantom on Broadway, only a few short months later. Before going on to perform many more incredible shows there.

It was a mystery.

Unless you were familiar with Caroline Forbes.

Then it wasn’t much of a mystery after all.

 xxx

This prompt came from ~somewhere~ literal years ago! “You’re the one person who can do my elaborate stage makeup so every night you spend half an hour in close proximity to my face and I am distressed”. I started writing this in 2015, and it finally was in a state that was nice and shareable. Hope you enjoyed! Happy AU week klaroliners!

[bensakindofmagic]

Chapter Twenty Two

A/N: hey hey hey. long time no see. life has been fucking me up the literal asshole. i have so much work to do. dunno when the next chapter will be. it will be at some point though. promise.

Warnings: swears, mentions of sex (nothing frisky tho)

w/c: 3.6k+

Chapter Twenty Two

You hadn’t exactly had high expectations when it came to living in LA. You knew the rumours — the people were superficial, the traffic was horrific, there was a distinct lack of culture — but you had to admit you were still disappointed. Nothing was particularly wrong with the place, but something about it just didn’t suit you. The studio had paid for an incredible apartment for you and it was beautiful but big and echoey, and you rattled around in it on your own. The days were long, and by the time you’d navigated the evening traffic, you got home late at night and had little time of your own. It was a blessing at first, because it kept you occupied enough to be able to forget Ben some of the time. When the thought of him drifted into your head, sitting curled up with Frankie on the sofa and you were hit with a sickening desire to sit down next to him and rest your head on his shoulder, you always had something to concentrate on that would take your mind off it. But after a while those thoughts became more frequent and you resented having to bat them away. What you really wanted was to wallow in them for a while; you wanted to feel the pain and the loss and the heartbreak, to grieve for the life you had lost. You wanted to think about Ben and cry uncontrollably, and wish he was still yours. You needed to process it, and then maybe you could start moving on. That being said, the thought of moving on terrified you, but you were tired of living like a shell of your former self.

It would have been okay if the job was better, if it felt worth it. You wanted so desperately to be vindicated in your choice to go but the work was kind of soul destroying. You were sure the actors were all lovely people, but the production was so big that you had barely spoken to them. You knew you’d been extraordinarily lucky with BoRhap, to have bonded the way you did, but you were still surprised with how little interest the cast took in you — you were effectively a glorified coffee girl. And because your job was mainly with the actors, you didn’t spend all that much time with the other crew members and didn’t bond with them either. Basically, you just felt horrifically lonely, which only reminded you how much you missed Ben.

A few weeks in you started to bond a little with some of the other girls in the crew. They were all junior, with you the most senior of the group, so it felt pretty safe. They were interested to hear about BoRhap, and what it had been like working with Rami and the boys. They seemed so starstruck just hearing you talk about him, you forgot that he was famous; to you he was just a wonderful friend.

“You know, I think he’s gonna win the Oscar,” said Tracy, a very sweet midwestern girl who always seemed like she was just excited to be alive.

“He definitely should, whether he will is another question,” Janie reasoned. She was a little older, and had the most experience but had never wanted to be anything more than a runner — she loved it, and her husband was some big-shot businessman so she didn’t need to worry about the peanuts she got paid.

“Do you reckon you’ll get to go?” asked Laura, an Irish girl and the youngest of the group.

You shook your head a little dejectedly, “No, probably not. I don’t see why they’d invite me.”

“That’s such a bummer! It sounds like you were really close with the guys,” Tracy said, genuinely put out for you.

“I still am. Well, mostly.” The thought of Ben left a bitter taste on your tongue. You hadn’t spoken to him since you got to the States.

Laura leaned in, “That sounds ominous. Go on.”

You sighed, “It’s not that dramatic really, I was dating one of them.”

“Not that dramatic?! That’s huge!” Laura shrieked.

Janie grinned, “Which one?”

“Ben,” you said slowly, tasting the word on your tongue again. It had been so long since you’d said his name out loud. “Ben Hardy, he played the drummer.”

“Oh my god he’s so gorgeous.” You could practically see the hearts in Tracy’s eyes and you chuckled.

“Wait, what do you mean, was?” Janie frowned.

“Be broke up, a few weeks ago actually, when I came to the States. I’m here for three years, we couldn’t commit to a long-distance relationship for that long.”

“Yikes, that sucks.”

Laura asked, “Was it not that serious then?”

“No, I think it was. We loved each other. But we’d done long distance before while I was doing a job, and it sucked. We hated being apart for so long and that was only a few months. I thought it was better just to get a clean break.”

“Ouch, I’m sorry gal.”

“Yeah, it’s rough but I think it’s for the best.” I think.

“You still love him, don’t you?” Janie queried gently.

You nodded, and then coughed, trying to dislodge the lump in your throat.

“Babe, you need to get over him!” Tracy laughed, quickly diffusing the solemn tension that clung to you.

“Ha, easier said than done,” you deadpanned.

“Nah, you just need to get under someone else.”

They set you up with one of Tracy’s friends in the city. The thought of going on a date with anyone other than Ben was a little nauseating, but before you really had a chance to say no it had all been arranged. Anyway, you thought you might as well — at least you could pass the evening with another human being. You never knew, it might be fun. What was there to lose?

You sat on your sofa waiting for your date to knock on the door, trying not to think back to the last time you’d been on a first date. Sure, it had been a little awkward with Ben at first, but it turned into a wonderful evening. But god, if it was awkward with Ben — a guy you knew well, fancied a ridiculous amount, and had already kissed — what kind of hell would it be with a man you didn’t know.

It won’t be that bad, just keep an open mind.

You reminded yourself of what Sav had said when you talked to her about it: there’s no pressure, it’s just a bit of fun.

The knock came at the door. He was a few minutes early. You took a deep breath, smoothed down your hair, and went to open it.

“Hi, you must be Y/N. Good to meet you, I’m Daniel.”

You were a little taken aback, but you smiled. He was better looking than the picture Tracy showed you had suggested. Tall, well dressed in a light blue button up and a jacket, with chocolately brown hair and eyes to match, adorned with flecks of hazel. His features were angular, a little sharp, but he had a kind look about him. You were suitably satisfied.

“Nice to meet you Daniel,” you smiled, hoping your face didn’t betray the internal struggle going on in your head over whether to shake his hand or go in for a hug. He solved that debate though by leaning in and placing a kiss on each cheek.

“That’s the European way, right? Two kisses? I wasn’t sure if it was three,” he joked, brimming with confidence.

“Three is French, we do two in England,” you playfully explained, pulling the door closed behind you. “You’ve clearly done your research.”

He grinned, “I wanted to make a good impression."

He took you out for dinner — classic, easy, not too much chance of something going disastrously wrong — to a Michelin starred restaurant. It was lovely, very upmarket, if a little soulless. You would have preferred somewhere a bit more artisan, somewhere with character and an interesting story behind it, but you weren’t complaining. The food was gorgeous and the company was good. Daniel was funny, he made you laugh often, and was a good conversationalist. Every time you feared you might be running out of things to say he asked you another interesting question to keep you on your toes.

It was fun, but it felt rather like meeting up with a friend. You were missing that elusive spark that people always talk about. But you weren’t going to dismiss him because of that, it wouldn’t always happen straight away. Just because it happened with Ben, didn’t mean it would be the same with the next guy.

Stop thinking about Ben.

“So, let me ask you, Y/N,” Daniel paused to take a sip of his wine, “How’s a beautiful woman like you still single?”

“What’s wrong with being single?” you simpered, mimicking his action and eying him over the rim of your glass.

“Nothing at all! I’m just surprised that no one’s snapped you up yet.”

“If someone’s interested in me doesn’t mean they just get to date me, I have to like them too,” you said as you cocked your eyebrow.

“Hm, yeah but you must get the cream of the crop after you. No one’s take your fancy yet?”

You pushed your mouth into a small smile and said, “I’ve only been in LA for a little over a month.”

“That’s plenty of time.”

For fuck’s sake, why is he pushing this so much? Maybe he could sense your reticence and that had piqued his interest. Maybe he wanted to be sure there was nothing wrong with you. Maybe he was just digging for your baggage.

Well he’s going to fucking get it then.

“I actually broke up with my boyfriend just before I came, so I’m keen not to rush into anything.”

You didn’t tell him how much you loved Ben, still, or that you hadn’t actually wanted to break up with him at all, or that you were still completely heartbroken about it. All Daniel needed to know was that you didn’t want a relationship with him. That this evening would lead to something else.

He nodded slowly and the look he gave you made clear that he understood you perfectly.

It was a perfectly enjoyable evening but by the end you were both very much aware that it wasn’t going anywhere. But still, he wouldn’t allow you to split the bill despite your insistence. He told it was ‘his treat’ and you understood fully that he was inviting you to reward him for his generosity. You ran your tongue over your lip. You didn’t owe him a thing, but you surveyed him none the less. He was a good-looking guy, you enjoyed his company, so when he offered to walk you home you allowed it. And when leaned in to kiss you at your front door, you let him. His lips were smaller than Ben’s, his mouth somehow more intrusive. It felt strange, wrong somehow. But you couldn’t allow yourself to think that Ben was the only man who could kiss you right, so you cast the thought from your mind and let your hands trail up to his neck. He took the opportunity to deepen the kiss and slipped his hands onto your hips. His touch was light, tentative, and you craved the intensity that you used to feel with Ben. One touch of his hand, gripping your hip with strong fingers, veins protruding deliciously, and you’d quiver beneath him. Daniel was... soft. Not in a bad way necessarily, you were sure some people loved that — you loved it when Ben was gentle with you. He’d caress your skin sometimes, leaving tender kisses all over your body; it made you shiver. You sighed at the memory, but felt Daniel smirk into your mouth, thinking it was him.

Stop thinking about Ben, you admonished.

You pulled away and looked at the man before you. His mouth was pulled into a small smile, leaning into you hopefully. He definitely wanted this. With a distinct tendency towards oh fuck it, you asked, “Would you like to come in?”

He grinned and followed you inside.

You didn’t even offer him a drink; you both knew what was happening. His mouth was on you again, kissing your neck, hands roaming. Green eyes, deep and rich with desire, flashed through your mind. You batted them away but were still surprised to see brown irises staring back at you when you opened your eyes. You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly arid.

“Shall we take this upstairs?” he hinted, his voice suddenly dropping an octave in an exaggeratedly sultry tone. He was clearly trying to be sexy but you had to bite your lip to stop yourself laughing, hoping you could pass it off as coy.

You nodded and lead him upstairs. He ripped his shirt off and began to make his way towards you. His hands quickly found your hips, then your bum, and he was behind you, reaching round to unbutton your jeans. His breath was hot on your neck, fanning you uncomfortably. You usually loved when you could feel Ben’s breath on your skin, making you tingle with anticipation; it meant his mouth was close.

Ben.

You almost moaned his name. Your whole body went tense and Daniel felt it instantly. His hands froze, fingers tucked slightly beneath your shirt, grazing your stomach. You fought the urge to slap them away.

I don’t want this.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I don’t want this.”

“Oh,” he faltered, clumsily retracting himself from you. “I’m sorry, I thought you did.”

The guilt tugged at you instantly, but you just didn’t want to sleep with him. You wanted Ben, and some other guy, no matter how attractive or charming, wasn’t going to change that. You ached for him in your soul, the kind of ache that a quick shag wouldn’t soothe.

“So did I, but I changed my mind. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to lead you on.”

He was kind about it, he didn’t try to push you, despite the disappointment that was evident on his face. You offered him a drink, which he refused, and said he should get home. Your life became quiet again when he left. It was late, you needed to be up for work in a matter of hours, but your mind was reeling and your heart was racing. You made a cuppa and thought of Ben; the curve of his jaw, the crease of his mouth when he laughed, the glint in his eye when he was up to mischief. You thought of the way he made you smile just with a touch, and the way he always managed to calm you when you were stressed, talking you down or stroking your hair. The more you thought of him, the more you spiralled, crying softly into a pillow. You coughed and spluttered and agonised. You were desperate to call him, to hear his voice.

You cracked, clutching at your phone. Your fingers shook as much as your breathing as you called him, still the first number in your favourites.

“Y/N?”

Relief flooded you, instantly abating the tension in your muscles, soothing you. You released a shaky breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding.

“Hey Ben,” you whispered, barely able to keep your voice steady.

Ben instantly recognised that you’d been crying and dropped his voice to a gentle, warming tone. “What’s happened, love? Are you okay?”

You sniffed, “I’m fine, I just... I just miss you.”

You could practically hear him running a hand through his hair and you internally groaned, thinking about when you used to lose your fingers in those golden locks.

He sighed, distant through the phone line but in another way too, “I miss you too.”

“I wish you were here, holding me.” You didn’t bother trying to disguise the weakness in your voice or the bubble in your throat.

“I know, baby. It’s okay,” he purred as your crying intensified. “I’m here.”

“No you’re not.”

He fell silent. You knew it wasn’t fair of you to do this to him, you were the one who left.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled. “I shouldn’t have called you.”

“It’s okay, don’t—don’t hang up.”

He sounded so desperate it cracked your heart open and spilled the contents into your lap. You felt like you were going to be sick.

“H-how are you? How’s the job going?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that it was increasingly feeling like a huge mistake. “It’s okay. Taking a bit to settle in, it’s very different from what I’ve done before.”

“Are you happy?”

Then came your turn to bite your tongue. You ventured, “I’m fine.”

It stung, lying to him, especially when he could see right through you.

You chit chatted for a bit, telling him about the girls you had begun to make friends with, and he in turn relayed some of his training to you for his new film - you warmed at the thought of him learning parkour, picturing the frown between his eyes as he tried a move again and again until he got it right. You seemed to settle, nuzzling into the cushions and wrapping yourself in a blanket to feel some semblance of his embrace. It barely held a candle to him but with his gentle voice in your ear like the ocean waves on a dusky shore, you could make yourself believe he was with you.

“Uh, I think I should go,” he said far too soon.

“Right, sure.”

“Just... look after yourself, Y/N, okay?”

You hummed a yes.

“Promise me?” he said, his tone taking on a greater gravity.

“I promise, Benny.”

At work the next day you could tell the girls were disappointed that you didn’t have a juicy story to tell them about the previous night’s antics, and all relationship talk went conspicuously quiet after that. You plodded along in your work, without the motivation to go above and beyond for those around you. You felt yourself getting complacent, and resented all the effort you put in that went unnoticed. You hated that the director still didn’t know your name, you hated that the cast hadn’t bothered to say more than two words to you. You hated the eternal sunshine that mocked your misery, and the dumb supermarkets with thousands of kinds of health foods and none of your favourite comfort foods. You hated how lonely you felt, and hated thinking about everything you’d given up to be where you were.

“Well, you could come home darling?”

“I signed a contract, Savvy. Anyway, I can’t just come crawling back.”

“Jesus Christ Y/N, I know you’re stubborn but this is next level. I am not going to let you make yourself miserable for three years just because you’re too damn proud to admit you made a mistake.”

You felt small, meek, “I have a job to do, I can’t let everyone down.”

“By the sounds of it they can manage perfectly well without you.”

“Um, ow?”

“Well, they clearly aren’t valuing you the way they should, so as far as I’m concerned, they let you down.” She sighed, clearly worried she had been too hard on you. “You don’t owe them anything love. This is your life.”

“I just... I’m scared.”

Sav’s voice went soft, soft like the soothing tones of a mother. “Of what, babe?”

“I’m scared that Ben will be mad, or resent me for leaving. I’m scared that it’s too late and I’ve already lost the life I had.”

“It’s not too late. I bet he’s miserable without you.”

“God,” you scoffed, “You make it sound like we’re 15.”

She mumbled, “Well if you didn’t act so damn childish about it—”

“Anyway, I went for a reason, you know that. I promised myself I would put my career first!”

“And you did! You tried, you didn’t like it. There’s no shame in that. Now you know and you can come home without regrets. I will not allow you to throw three years of your life away — and the love of your life, for that matter.”

You ventured, voice weak, “What if he’s not?”

“What?”

“What if he’s not the love of my life. What if I go back to him and it falls apart, and I abandoned this job for nothing?”

“How are you even worried about that? Y/N, it’s obvious how much you adore him.”

“Well I thought I adored Matteo and look how that turned out.”

“This is different, Y/N, and you know it.”

“I was infatuated with Matteo-”

“Exactly!” she interrupted, “You were infatuated, it was a glorified crush.”

Ouch. That bit to the bone. “My job won’t up and leave me one day.”

“Nor will Ben! For fuck’s sake, have some faith in him. You love each other.”

You knew she was right — of course you did — but there was a gnawing in your gut that made you falter. Some residue of fear laced you like poison; your head told you to stick to your principles even while your heart bled for Ben. Usually you trusted your gut, which is why you were hesitant: something in the pit of your stomach told you that it wouldn’t be as easy as running right back into his arms.

“I promised myself I’d never choose a man over the job.” It was a weak excuse but you made it all the same, the last hurdle you needed Sav to help you overcome before you booked yourself a one-way flight back to London.

“Darling, it’s not about choosing between a man and the job, it’s this man. It’s Ben. You can’t throw that away.”

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[slxyangel]

Unspoken (Tommy Lee x Reader)

Summary: The conversation you had most dreaded had finally arrived, and the outcome was going to be ugly, at the very least.

Wordcount: 2.6k

Warnings: angst, cursing, mentions of violence, literally the SMALLEST mentions of sex, fluffy ending.

A/N: Nothing really. Just don’t judge too hard, I’m new, and English isn’t my first language. Enjoy :)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!

Masterlist: https://slxyangel.tumblr.com/post/189625800403/masterlist

The vase flew across the room as flowers and water were scattered all over the floor. It hit the wall right next to Tommy’s head. Shit, that was close.

- WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?

- IT MEANS EXACTLY WHAT I SAID, YOU FUCKING HYSTERICAL BITCH- Tommy yelled, with his eyes wide open and his index finger pointing at you - AND STOP THROWING THINGS AT ME.

- I WOULD IF YOU WEREN’T BEHAVING LIKE AN ABSOLUTE DOUCHEBAG - you said as you grabbed a book and threw it in his direction. This time, it hit him on the stomach.Tommy caught the book right before it fell and walked towards you in two impressively long steps, only to grab your wrists before you had the time to throw him the ashtray you were already holding.

- YOU SERIOUSLY NEED TO CALM THE FUCK DOWN Y/N.

- ARE YOU REALLY TELLING ME TO CALM DOWN?? - you argued, unsuccessfully trying to escape from his grip -  REALLY??? AFTER WHAT HAPPENED IN YOUR HOUSE???

- IT’S NOT THAT BIG OF A DEAL!!!

- BUT IT IS!!! YOUR PARENTS LITERALLY SPENT HALF AN HOUR SHOWING ME PICTURES OF YOUR EX THAT THEY, FOR SOME REASON, KEEP IN AN ALBUM, REMINDING ME HOW BEAUTIFUL SHE WAS, HOW HAPPY YOU TWO WERE TOGETHER AND HOW MUCH THEY GOT ALONG WITH HER.

- OH MY GOD, AGAIN? THAT HAPPENED A MILLION YEARS AGO. IT’S FORGOTTEN. I AM WITH YOU NOW, I LOVE YOU. SARAH IS OVER, YOU KNOW IT.

- YEAH I SURE AS HELL DO - you yelled back, filled with rage and built-up anger. Your hands were finally free, so you were gesticulating a lot while you spoke - BUT APPARENTLY YOUR MOTHER DOESN’T. SHE FUCKING HATES ME! SHE ALWAYS DID! SHE ONLY SEES ME AS “THE OTHER ONE”, “THE ONE HE’LL EVENTUALLY GET TIRED OF”, “THE WHORE”, “THE GRRRROUPIE” WITH A LOT OF R’S - you said, mimicking her accent - WHEN THAT IS NOT EVEN TRUE. AND WHAT DO I HAVE TO COPE WITH WHEN I GET HOME FROM AN EVENING WITH PEOPLE THAT DESPISE ME SO BAD? EXACTLY! A BOYFRIEND WHO PROJECTS ALL HIS ISSUES ON ME AND COMPARES THIS CRAP WITH THE FACT THAT MY OWN MOTHER ONCE SAID “Oh, you have tattoos” THE DAY SHE MET HIM.

- OH NO NO NO NO - Tommy interrupted - DON’T YOU DARE WALK THAT PATH. IT’S COMPLETELY DIFFERENT, YOUR MOTHER IS DISGUSTED BY ME, I CAN SEE IT, HER EYES GIVE IT AWAY. SHE HATES ME BECAUSE I’M THE DRUMMER IN A METAL BAND AND SHE CAN’T STAND THE FACT THAT HER PERFECT LITTLE DAUGHTER IS DATING A DUDE WHO WEARS MAKEUP AND LEATHER PANTS.

- WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU EVEN SAYING?? TOMMY. I. AM. A. SINGER. - You paused deliberately between each word. This was ridiculous - HOW THE HELL WAS SHE GOING TO HATE YOU FOR BEING A ROCKSTAR WHEN HER OWN DAUGHTER IS ONE? THAT DOESN’T ADD UP, DUMBASS.

- YEAH, WHATEVER YOU SAY. AT LEAST MY MOTHER IS FUCKING CONSEQUENT WITH WHAT SHE BELIEVES, UNLIKE SOME OTHER HYPOCRITES.

- SEE?? YOU JUST GOT ALL WORKED UP OUT OF NOWHERE JUST BECAUSE I TOLD YOU SOMETHING YOU DIDN’T WANT TO HEAR. YOU ARE SUCH A SPOILED LITTLE BRAT. AND DIDN’T YOU LOVE TO BRAG ABOUT YOUR PERFECT PARENTS AND YOUR PERFECT FAMILY? WELL, THE FACT THAT YOU ARE AN EGOTISTICAL CHILD WITH ANGER ISSUES IS ENTIRELY ON YOUR MOTHER, AND IF I WERE HER, I WOULDN’T EXACTLY BE PROUD OF MY ACCOMPLISHMENTS AS A PARENT.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

You had overstepped. The blatant contrast between a long while of yelling and the absolute silence that now reigned in the living room told you so. And the worst of all was that you had done it consciously.You knew how much Tommy loved his mum and how sacred their bond was to him. For this reason, you were conscious about the fact that particularly this conversation topic was some tricky business, but you couldn’t contain it anymore.

You had sensed in what ways Vassiliki was a loving mother, a caring wife and a good person in general terms. Only you didn’t feel like she acted that way towards you. From the very first time you had met her, you had been able to feel the looks of disdain she often gave you, or the slight but still noticeable shifts in her voice tone when she talked to you. You just didn’t know why. At the beginning you told yourself it was all a product of your imagination, you had been nervous for weeks before meeting Tommy’s parents, so your suggested mind could be playing tricks on you. But within time, you thought maybe it wasn’t exactly like that.

You had been avoiding to tell your boyfriend because you didn’t think it was a major drawback, and you knew how much he adored her. You didn’t want to take the role of the abducting girlfriend who sets her partner against everything and everyone important in his life, so you would just put up with the animosity until it faded away, because it eventually would, right?

That night hadn’t been particularly rough, not rougher than the others in any case, but it was the last straw. After the shitshow that was your family dinner, the ride home was rather silent. Tommy could sense something was wrong. I mean, he was oblivious, but he wasn’t dumb, so once you two got home he asked you why the attitude. After such a long night, the last thing you wanted was to fight with your boyfriend. All you needed was for him to take you upstairs, fuck you senseless and cuddle you until the planet fell from its axis. And although your head was filled with red lights and voices screaming that answering his questions would start a war, Tommy really knew how to push your buttons so, long story short, vases started flying.

And now there you were, standing in front of the love of your life, staring at him and about to deal with the consequences you yourself provoked when you couldn’t bite your tongue hard enough.Tommy was looking at you with widened eyes, a subtle frown and massive amounts of disappointment in his expression. He seemed half surprised, because he would have never expected you to say something like that, half hurt, for obvious reasons. You felt your heart shrinking a little bit just with the look on his face. You had fucked up good and proper.

- Tommy, I’m so so…

But he didn’t give you the time to finish your sentence. He swung the door open and shut it close behind him, living you with a feeling of guilt, the urge to chase after him and the certainty that doing so would be a worse solution than your accusation had been a problem. In the air, the noise of his departure and a million words unspoken.

_____________________

How could she say that? I’m serious, how could she? What kind of abrasive bile must have she had inside of her to be able to say that without even flinching. I was livid.

I am not the biggest fan of leaving problems unsolved and arguments unfinished. Issues need to be addressed and things need to be talked through. Communication is necessary, especially in a romantic relationship, because it means that you trust your partner, and that is the key to it all. It has to be. And boy I fucking know it, my life had taught me the hard way: silence equals death.

Still, even with that mantra smashing my brain like a hammer, I left my girlfriend stranded in our own house in the middle of an argument; in the middle of her sentence. But I had to. I didn’t know what else to do. In fact, I didn’t know what would have happened if I hadn’t left the way I did. I didn’t want to think about it.

I had been driving for almost two hours. My first reflect the moment I stepped out of the house was to get in my car, and since i couldn’t decide where to go in the middle of the mental storm, I would do it along the way. But I hadn’t decided anything, I just drove. Driving always made me feel relaxed; concentrating on all of the small tasks I had to synchronize helped me focus on something other than my thoughts, it gave me perspective, and that was exactly what I needed in that moment.

In fact, now that I saw it coldly, what hurted me the most wasn’t her attack. I mean, come on, we all throw low blows in the heat of an argument once in a while. Or more often than that. I have. I can understand it. But no, what worried me was how come she hadn’t told me before.

For the way she was ranting at home all those things about my mum, it didn’t seem like the problem had only existed since that very night. No, that much anger and rampage had to be coming from a long time ago. But how much? How much time had she been feeling like that, suffering in silence? Dude, I love my mother, but I better than anyone know that sometimes she can be really petty, I inherited that wonderful trait from her. So why didn’t Y/N tell me? Doesn’t she trust me enough? What did she expect me to answer, that made her scared enough to chose to bear with that pain alone? What did I do? What didn’t I do?

Shit, my head was going to explode. I was definitely going to have to face the issue at some point, and I was running out of gas, so I had two options: heading to the nearest gas station and keep wandering around, or going back home. As much as we had a huge fight, I didn’t really feel like ending up in the middle of nowhere, forced to sleep in the car, so it was going to have to be option two. Besides, I was now cold-headed enough to talk things like the adult I sometimes wish I wasn’t.

When I got home, I was received by a darkened room and a silent house. Y/N’s wallet and keys were on the table, so she mustn’t have left. Good. It was past 4 a.m, so she was probably already sleeping. Good. At least I didn’t have to confront her straight away. I turned around to close the main door, when I found a small light-yellow post-it sticked to it.

HELLO

It was Y/N’s handwriting.

In the dim light of the lamp from the hall I was able to see a few more papers sticked to the wall of the stairs in front of me. I reached for the first one and started reading the note on it.

I’M GLAD YOU CAME BACK (cause if you’re reading this it’s because you have), I HOPE YOUR TIME AWAY WAS PRODUCTIVE, OR, AT LEAST, ENJOYABLE.

Yeah, pretty much. All I did was consume the gas tank and get to zero useful conclusions, so I would say we can call that success. I went for the next post-it, climbing a few steps, since I assumed they were in order.

I DON’T KNOW IF YOU KNOW THIS, BUT I’M GONNA TELL YOU JUST IN CASE. I LOVE YOU MORE THAN I HAVE EVER LOVED ANYONE IN MY LIFE, TOMMY, SO MUCH IT PHYSICALLY HURTS.

Oh. Well, this wasn’t exactly new, but reading the verbalized, inked, tangible version of it was a whole different thing. Next note.

WHEN YOU LEFT, I THOUGHT THE WORST, I THOUGHT THAT WAS IT, I THOUGHT I HAD LOST YOU BECAUSE I AM A DUMB BITCH WHO CAN’T CONTROL HER MOUTH.

I knew we had something in common, Y/N, I always knew it.

BUT THEN I REALIZED THAT WHAT WAS ACTUALLY PUNCTURING MY SOUL WASN’T THE PERSPECTIVE OF LOSING YOU. IT WAS THE PERSPECTIVE OF HAVING HURT YOU. I SWEAR THAT LOOK ON YOUR FACE IS GOING TO BE TATTOOED INSIDE OF MY LIDS FOREVER.

Fuck.

YOU CAN’T BEGIN TO UNDERSTAND HOW SORRY I AM FOR WHAT I SAID, BUT SPECIALLY FOR HOW I SAID IT, EVEN LESS IF ALL THE EXPLANATION I GIVE YOU IS A FEW SHITTY POST-ITS ON THE WALL.

This was the last piece of paper on the wall, right at the top of the stairs, so it had been more difficult to read only with the weak light from the floor below. I put it in my right hand with the small stack of other notes I had collected, and turned left to go to our room. Sticked to the closed door, I found another post-it.

SINCE IT’S MORE THAN LIKELY THAT BY THE TIME YOU REACH THIS PIECE OF PAPER I AM SOUND ASLEEP (A HOE PLANS AHEAD), ALL I HAVE LEFT TO SAY IS THAT, IF YOU FEEL LIKE IT, YOU CAN WAKE ME UP SO WE PROPERLY FIX THIS. I LOVE YOU.

The first thing I saw when I entered the room was her, in her panties and one of my t-shirts she liked to wear when I was on tour. Instead of occupying her side of the bed, she was in the middle of it, curled up and with her hair sprawled all over her pillow. Her arm was slightly reaching my half of the bed, and her nose softly pressed against my own pillow, as if she wanted to hold on to my scent, to get closer to me, but as if she didn’t dare.

The sight was divine, she seemed so peacefully asleep, and after such a tough night, God forbid I interrupted that, whatever reason I might have for doing so. Communication could wait. I got into bed and cuddled up behind her back, as gently as I could, so that she didn’t wake up.

_____________________

A cold hand ran up my bare thigh and rested on my hip, as I felt a warm breath and a pair of lips grazing the back of my neck.It was him.Slowly, his presence and the memories from a few hours earlier started to drag me away from my sleep. Why was he here? What time was it? Shit, the post-its. Was he waking me up? Was this my cue? What should I say? With a sloppy movement I began to turn around to face him.

- Tommy… - my voice was hoarse because of the crying and the sleeping.

- Shhh - he instantly interrupted me with a soft voice, as his arm moved from my hip to my waist and pulled me closer to his chest - it’s okay.

- But…

- I know, I know - he whispered as he peppered soft kisses on the bare skin of my shoulder, exposed by his t-shirt; on the back of my neck and also in my head, sniffing the scent that my hair radiated - sleep now, babe. You can tell me tomorrow, but now sleep. It’s okay, I love you…

His soothing words managed to kill the clouds of confusion that surrounded me in that moment. In my state of semi-wakefulness I wasn’t particularly aware of or integrated with reality, but something in his voice was so deeply calming that I couldn’t help but feel every little thing had somehow fallen into place. So there I was, with his arms around me, his lips against me, inescapably sleepy and undeniably in love.

[nighting-gale17]

Rollercoaster

This is dedicated to the discord, for making me write this sad thing.

In this AU, Buck has been homeless since he joined the 118, struggling to send his money to his sister so she’s able to escape her good for nothing abusive husband. It was fun to write, but be warned, I was half asleep and we were fihgitng over popsicles so it’s not my best work.

Might delete later idk.

Here’s the link, but I also have the whole story under the cut:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19197472

“Come on, Bobby,” Buck pleaded, walking backwards in pace with Bobby as the older man walked in the station house. “I know you need the help with that shift since Tommy called off, man, just let me work.”

“No, Buck, and that’s final.” Bobby blew out an aggravated breath, stopping in his tracks and eyeing Buck critically. “You’ll be working a thirty six hour shift before that one and if you took it, that would be close to seventy two hours straight. No, not happening, out of the question.”

Buck clenched his jaw, searing for an argument in his head. He knew Bobby was right, he was already exhausted now anyway, he’d barely be standing on his feet if he took that shift but—he needed the money. And it was a night shift, which meant he wouldn’t have to find a place to sleep for the night. “Bobby—”

“No, Buck.” Bobby cut him off before he could even start talking. “I’m not changing my mind about this.” he was silent for a moment, his expression of annoyance turning into one of slight concern and his tone softened. “Why do you need this so much?”

“Whatever,” Buck scoffed lowly, turning on his heel away from the conversation with his hand shoved in his back pockets. He wasn’t about to have that conversation with anyone, least of all Bobby. He knew what he was doing. He knew the sacrifices he was making and he didn’t regret a single one.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Buck grabbed his duffle bag from where he’d left it laying on the couch. He gave the kitchen a second glance, hesitating when his eyes lingered on the fridge. It’d been a while since the last time he’d had something to eat—their lunch had been interrupted and they never got around to eating it with the back to back calls they had—and breakfast early this morning seemed like years ago to his cramping stomach.

His pay check had just come in, though, and he needed to transfer it to Maddie’s account but maybe he could keep a little to get a nice meal—

Buck gritted his teeth and forcedly shoved the thought from his mind, berating himself for even letting it worm into his head. Flashes of bruises and scars and hospitals visits flashed through Buck’s head and he sighed, reluctantly heading towards the fridge. Maddie needed that money a lot more than he did. He'd be fine, he thought as he grabbed one of the pre-made sandwiches from the fridge.  This would hold him over until his next shift in sixteen hours, it was selfish to even think about keeping it for himself when Maddie was literally fighting to survive locked up on that house.

His hunger wasn’t a big deal. He'd be fine, especially with this sandwich.

Closing the fridge door with his foot, Buck was about to take a huge bite of the sandwich when he heard Chimney’s voice behind him, “Yo, man, you’re eating again? Better watch it there, pal, might find yourself with a little extra padding.” he teased as he walked past Buck, patting him on the stomach as he headed towards the lounge.

Any hunger he did have vanished with that comment, and Chimney was teasing, Buck knew he didn’t mean anything by it, but… he glanced self-consciously down at his stomach and grimaced, slowly lowering the sandwich back onto the counter. His eating habits hadn’t been the greatest since he started funneling all of his money towards Maddie, not that they were ever great to begin with, but they were at least kind of healthy. Now, the only food that he got that wasn’t fast food was the food he got when Bobby cooked. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who saw the difference that was putting on his body.

Hiking his duffle on his shoulder, But quickly ducked out of the station house, leaving the sandwich abandoned on the table behind him.

If he hurried, maybe he could grab a spot at the shelter downtown before it filled up.

xxx

He didn’t get to the shelter in time.

His night was instead spent aimlessly driving around all night until the library opened and he was able to hide out there. He spent the time like he usually did, deciding to brush up on some of his literature this time around while he waited for the time to pass for his next shift. 

His hunger was easy to ignore after so long getting used to it, satisfying himself with the thought that Bobby will probably have a nice, warm meal ready for them when their shift started in a couple of hours. 

He was right.

Buck sneaked into the showers before he clocked into work, quickly slathering product through his hair to keep it slicked down before he, quite literally, bounced up the stairs where the meal and the rest of the team were waiting. It wasn’t quite anything special tonight, just some lasagna and a couple of side dishes but it was heaven to Buck, and he told Bobby as much.

“Man, I wish I could cook meals like this every day,” he said, with maybe just a touch of wistfulness to his tone.

“Not everyone can be a chef quite like Cap.” Hen agreed, misinterpreting his statement, but there was no way in hell Buck was about to correct her.

Yeah. He was totally talking about Bobby’s cooking skills, not just about having a kitchen to cook in. Because that would be suspicious. And suspicion meant people maybe started asking the wrong kind of right questions and Buck couldn't have them doing that right, not when he was so close to having enough to convince Maddie she would be safe and removed enough to get out of there.

“Is everything alright, Buck?” Bobby asked later after they were done eating and the two of them were washing the dishes while the others fought over control of the television.

Buck tried not to tense at the innocent question, but based on the sharp look in Bobby’s eyes he’s not sure he succeeded. “Yeah,” he said, casually as he could. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You seem a little more tired than usual.” Bobby murmured, concern lacing his voice. “You keep asking about getting more shifts and don't think I haven't seen you sneaking into the showers before your shift starts.” he sighed, and Buck saw him put his plate down on the rack and turn towards him. “What’s going on, Buck? I’m worried about you.”

He could help, a small voice said in the back of his head. All of them would help. They would give you a bed to crash on. They’re family.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? Buck’s never had good experience with family. He couldn’t see any situation where talking about this with his Captain would solve any of his problems. He still wouldn’t let him take more shifts and it’s not like he could just impose on him and Athena or anything, especially now that they were living together.

“I’m fine,” Buck said, smiling stiffly up at Bobby before resuming his furious scrubbing of the plate in the sink. “Everything’s fine.”

It’s not like he was completely exhausted all the time. Couldn’t remember the last time he had a decent sleep or a decent place to sleep. Had a hard time remembering what it felt like to be comfortably full—he was always either starving or stuffing himself because he didn’t know when his next meal was going to be. It’s not like his older sister was on the other side of the country, getting the shit beat out of her every night and making weekly trips to the hospital and there wasn't a single damned thing he could do about it—

A loud ‘crack’ broke him from his thoughts and he stared blankly at the sink in front of him. The plate he had been holding had shattered. Had he done that? 

“Shit, Buck,” Bobby cursed, quickly but gently reaching down and grabbing his hands and lifting them out of the pink water. “Don’t move.”

Bobby rushed off somewhere, but Buck wasn’t paying close attention. All he could focus on was the slow pattern the blood was making from the cuts on his hands down his wrists. It was captivating. Like watching a snake slither silently across the ground or watching a shark silently swim through the ocean. He’s seen a lot of those. Shark Week. Maddie used to love watching Shark Week with him. He was pretty sure she only watched it because of him, and he always loved those weeks, but then they didn't have them anymore because she was gone across the country and she left him and now she was dying—

He blinked as a soft white cloth wrapped around his hands, pulling him from where he had zoned out too. Bobby stood in front of him, his face lined with concentration as he gently tied up Buck’s hands in the white cloth and then wiped the blood off os his forearms.

“Sorry,” Buck muttered, suddenly remembering that this happened because he must have broken the plate. “I’ll pay for a new one.”

“Don’t.” Bobby shook his head, leading Buck over to the barstool at the counter and forcing him to sit down, his brown eyes were worried. “You can apologize by telling me what’s up with you.”

Buck hesitated, pressing his lips together in a tight line. He still wasn’t sure this was a good idea. “I’m just… stressed,” he said lamely, staring down at his hands fidgeting together in his lap.

“Stressed,” Bobby repeated, a little disbelievingly. “Come on, Buck. Listen, I’m your Captain, but,” he squeezed Buck’s wrist gently for emphasis, getting Buck to reluctantly look up into his gentle eyes. “You’re family. Let me help you.”

“I have a sister.” Buck began slowly, biting the inside of his cheek. “She’s on the other side of the country, stuck with an abusive asshole of a husband. I’ve been sending her almost all of my paycheck money to a separate bank account under her name.” he’s rambling now, but he can't stop. “I-I don’t have a choice, Bobby, I can’t just do nothing! He’s got such an iron grip on their finances she doesn’t have any of her own money to her name, all of it is under his, I’m the only chance she’s got to get out so I-I have to send her everything I have.”

Tears burned in his eyes, drinking down his cheeks as he felt himself begin to unravel. “I’ve almost got her enough money to get out of there, I just need a couple more paychecks and she’ll be able to leave but—I’m just so tired, Bobby.” Buck’s voice cracked slightly on his name, dropping his head into his hands. “She deserves so much more but I just don’t have enough. I’ve been trying to cut back where I can, but—”

“All you have to do is say something, Buck,” Bobby murmured comfortingly. “We can help you. you don’t have to work yourself down to the bone for this.”

Buck disagreed, after everything Maddie put herself through at their house before she ran away with Doug, she deserved so much more than he was able to give her. God, he couldn’t even pull his shit together enough to pay back even quarter of what he owes her. She raised him when his parents wanted to throw him out on the street. How does someone repay that?

“Come on,” Bobby said after a minute, wrapping an arm around Buck’s waist to get him on his feet. “Let’s get you back home, get some rest—some real rest— and then we can help you figure out how to help your sister.”

“Home?” Buck asked, confused as he stopped in his tracks and looked at Bobby. What home? He had no home, no place to live. And besides, he couldn’t just leave, he was in the middle of a shift!

“Yeah, back to your apartment, or are you still staying in Abby’s old place?” Bobby questioned, looking all for the world like he was about to get in his car and drive Buck back to a place that didn't exist.

“Bobby I—” Please don't make him say it. “I told you, all of my paychecks are going towards my sister. I have to help her.”

He could see the moment everything connected in Bobby’s head and he had to look away so he wouldn’t see the pity and several other emotions in those eyes that he didn't deserve. He couldn’t even take care of his sister. He doesn’t deserve any go the things Bobby is looking at him with right now.

“I’m fine,” Buck said quietly, wincing slightly as he clasped his hands together tightly. “Really. I’ve been in worse situations, it’s not the end of the world.”

“I think…” Bobby said slowly, softly, like he was talking to a cornered animal. “You should come home with me, have a bed to sleep on, and we can talk to Athena about helping your sister.” 

“Why?” Buck muttered, chancing a glance up. “It’s not going to change anything. The police can’t help her.”

“Maybe not,” Bobby allowed, placing his hands on Buck’s shoulder’s and staring at him intently. “But we can help you. Right now, you need to be your priority. You won’t be able to help your sister if you collapse from exhaustion before then.”

Buck wanted to argue. But he knew that look in Bobby’s eyes. He’s seen it in work, and it’s been used on him more times than he can even begin to count. He knew there was no getting out of this and… he wasn’t really sure he wanted to. Of course, it was humiliating that someone knew he was homeless, his cheeks burned at the very thought. But this was Bobby.

Family, right?

“Okay,” Buck relented, ignoring the way Bobby’s relieved smile made his chest warm up. The thought of a bed and food was too nice to pass up, and he was exhausted. “Thank you.”

“Anything for family, Buck,” Bobby said, throwing an arm over his shoulders and guiding him out of the station. “Anything.”

[wexregolden]

Read it on AO3 here <3

Chapter 2/19

THE BOY WHO LOVED Chapter 2

-The Forbidden Forest Topic -

•

“Martino! You with us?”, the teacher made Martino jump out of his thoughts as he called him out.

“I... yeah, I´m here”

“Well then?”

“Then what?”

“I´d like to hear the answer to my question, Martino”

Fuck. Yes. He didn´t pay attention and he had no clue what was going on right now. His thoughts had drifted away again. To a certain boy. A certain boy with black hair and beautiful eyes...

“I´m sorry, I-”

“You didn´t pay attention, I know, Martino. Please, focus! Back to our interpretation of Ovid´s text,” the teacher said while he turned back to the blackboard to write down notes. Marti heard giggles from behind his back and as he turned around, he saw Gio and Elia making funny faces and laughing at his faux pas. These fuckers!

The moment the bell signalled the end of the school day Marti left the school as if his life depended on it. Today was one of these days his six hours of school felt like twenty. One of those days he wasn´t able to concentrate on the things he should. One of those days his thoughts drifted away every few minutes. One of those days he can´t wait to go home and lie down in his bed again. Post something on his Bookstagram. Read a book.

But before he could do that, he was meeting up with his friends in front of the school.

“Hey Marti,” Gio greeted him as they fist bumped. He repeated it with Elia and Luca and after it they fell back into the conversation they had before Marti had arrived.

“It was literally the best, especially as Il Peccio started to dance, well “dance”, you know, Marti?,” Elia asked him and grinned. “Oh no wait, you would have known if you would have been there.,” he continued and his gaze roamed over to Marti.

“Hey! I already told you that I stayed at home with my mom. And I promise, next time I´ll be there,” Marti said, his remorse hit in.

“You better be! You really missed something!,” Gio said, patting his best friend´s shoulder.

“What? Peccio dancing? Believe me, I´ve already seen that and honestly, it´s nothing I´d like to repeat,” Marti answered, grinning.

“Better, Marti! Better! Just one word: Girls!,” Luca butted in.

Girls. The one, constantly recurring topic. The one topic Martino is sick of. The one topic he really doesn´t want to talk about: Girls this, girls that. This. This was one of the reasons which would bring him to tell his friends about his feelings, his love life. Which nearly brought him to do so a few times already. Tell them that he likes boys. To not have to endure these talks, this topic anymore. Well, at least to not have to pretend anymore. To pretend that he feels like them, that he feels the same about girls as they do. But to do so, one thing is missing. This one person, this one boy who´s worth it to tell his secret. To accept the possible outcomes of his coming out. That his friends would not think the same of him anymore as they do now. Or even worse, that they would stop being friends with him because he´s gay. No more hugs and late-night talks with his best friend Gio. No more teasing Elia or getting teased by him. No more listening to Luca´s stories about his failed attempts at flirting. No, he would not want to risk this. Never. His friends were too important to him.

His angsty spinning thoughts got distracted by Gio waving his hand in front of Marti´s eyes. It happened again, his mind and thoughts completely drifting away.

“Martino! You with us?,” he tried to imitate their teacher from before, a big grin on his face. As he looked at Elia and Luca, he saw that they were mirroring Gio´s expression. Assholes.

“Oh fuck off!,” Marti said, trying to push his best friend away, but Giovanni was faster, already stepping out of his personal space.

“But well, are you coming with us, Marti?,” he asked and looked at Marti, expecting.

“Where?”

“At my place, getting pizza before and playing a few rounds of FIFA. I´m ready to kick your boring ass, Marti!”

“Oh, you sure about that? If I'm right I was the one who won all of our previous matches. So dream on!,” Marti said cocky, now being the one who had a grin on his face.

“Let´s see, Marti, let´s see!”

“But another time. I really need to go home and catch up on some school work, I´m so far behind”

“Boring, Marti, boooring,” he heard Elia say as he was already ready to get going, Luca next to him.

“See you tomorrow, guys,” Marti said as they started to head to the bus stop. Before Giovanni was leaving, he turned back to Martino, giving him a fond smile.

“Everything okay with you? How´s your mom doing?,” he asked Marti, a hand on his shoulder. A gesture, a touch that would have made Marti´s heart beat faster a few years ago. But it´s over now.

“Yeah, everything good. With me and with her, both of us. I´m just really tired as... I stayed up a little too late yesterday and I really need to do some things for school,” Marti answered.

“Okay, that´s fine. I´ll see you tomorrow then”. After a short hug Gio disappeared and went after Elia and Luchino. As he was out of his sight, Marti turned around in the other direction and headed home too. Finally.

---

As soon as he closed the apartment door behind him and put his keys away, his mother was already appearing, giving him a hug and a kiss to the cheek.

“How was school, sweetheart?,” she asked him as she stepped back, heading back to the living room, Marti behind her.

“Nice... I mean, okay. A bit boring, but well, I guess it was okay,” Martino answered.

“Well then. By the way, I´m going to watch a movie, maybe make some popcorn. Do you wanna join me?,” she asked her son, waiting for his answer.

“I´d love to, mom, but I´m actually really behind with some of my schoolwork and need to catch up as soon as possible. I´m sorry, but I would love to do this any other day again,” he said, a guilty look approaching on his face.

“Don´t worry, Marti!,” his mother smiled at him and he couldn't help but mirroring her expression.

“I love you, mom,” he said as he went over to her and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“I love you too, Marti,” she answered, the smile never leaving her face. And with that Marti left for his room, sitting down at his desk. School work. What a wonderful thing to do on a Monday afternoon.

---

Well, being productive looked different. He really wanted to do something, catch up with his school work. But he couldn´t help. And so it happened that Martino was sitting on his bed after already 15 minutes again. His phone inn his hands., ready to post a new picture on his Bookstagram account. He was scrolling through his gallery, searching for a pic he hasn´t posted yet. After a few minutes he found one, a picture of “It” by Stephen King, a book he read back in summer. And he loved it! Well, let´s just leave the fact aside that he finished it in the middle of the night and literally had a nightmare as he went to sleep. But still, he really enjoyed the story. He added a caption under his post, including his opinion on the post and a bit of more or less unnecessary chatter. He hit the post-button and after a while, the first notifications started to appear. Many likes, a few comments complimenting his picture, a few comments sharing their own opinion on the book, a few people trying to promote their own account or business. He loved it, the communication with his followers. One of the best parts about the whole Bookstagram thing! But especially one comment caught his attention.

nicoissurroundedbymuggles: and again: YOU FOR REAL?! YOU LIKED THIS CRAP BUT CAN`T STAND HARRY POTTER?? WHAT`S WRONG WITH YOU?!

martislibrary: @nicoissurroundedbymuggles and again: if you can´t live with my opinion... *Marti has left the chat*

nicoissurroundedbymuggles: @martislibrary Still not sure if this is how Instagram works, Marti 😛

A grin immediately appeared on Marti´s face. Wide. Bright. Radiating happiness. And suddenly he felt the urge to reread these messages. The messages between him and Nico. Well, no sooner said than done. He opened his and Nico´s chat, scrolled to the very top and started reading. Going through all the emotions he had whilst writing and reading these messages yesterday night again. Especially one caught his attention

“nicoissurroundedbymuggles: Well then you need to do the Pottermore test for you to be sure and accept that you´re not in Slytherin”

Pottermore. It´s not that he was actually interested in anything Harry Potter related. But his curiosity won. His curiosity to know what Nico was talking about. He took his laptop from his desk, placed it on his lap and opened his browser, typing “Pottermore” into Google. The first result already was said website. As he opened it, dozens of different articles and photos immediately caught his eyes. “The top five most fashionable teachers of Hogwarts”, “Take a new look at Hagrid´s Magical Creature´s Motorbike Adventure ride”, “The definitive Rubeus Hagrid quiz”, and so on and on. Nothing special, nothing that would impress Marti. It seemed like the perfect website for Harry Potter fans and stans. Like Nico. But then one button caught his attention: “Sorting”. Clicking on it, the next page showed the line “Discover your Hogwarts House”. This must be what Nico was talking about. Martino actually didn´t know what got into him but suddenly he saw himself creating an account on this website and starting this quiz. Answering questions. And honestly? How are questions like “Moon or Stars” or “Left or Right” supposed to tell anything about the house you're in. And again, he was wondering why he bothered to think about such topics. Anything related to Harry Potter. A book he didn´t like at all. Well, a text conversation with a cute boy exactly about this topic later and he sat in front of Pottermore. Marti shook his head, immediately trying to get his thoughts about this “cute boy” out of his head. And he continued answering the following questions of the quiz. The Sorting Hat quiz. Honestly? How drunk or high must a person be to come up with a talking hat?!

A few minutes later, he leaned back as he finished the quiz, waiting for his result. And then the page showed him his apparent Hogwarts house.

“Congratulations on being sorted into...

...Slytherin.”

Ha!

•••

The Sorting Hat spoke: Marti is a Slytherin, wuhu :D

Thank you for reading and I’d love to hear what you think of it in the comments or my ask box <3

[pickalilywrites]

I’m the ballet au anon and you asked me pick a ship so (if you’ve already got EreAni) Jeankasa! Thanks :D

here you go ^^

Tension

Jeankasa. Ballet AU. 

2691 words. 

Buy me a ko-fi!

“Delivery,” Jean calls, knocking at the door. He hears a muffled voice reply, “Coming!” and he leans back against the doorframe as he waits to be let in. He raises an eyebrow when the door finally opens. Jean dangles a bag, a carton of ice cream inside of it, in front of his friend’s face. “I thought you could use something nice to eat.”

Mikasa purses her lips in a thin line, trying not to smile. “I don’t remember ordering anything though,” she says, but she lets him in anyway. She locks the door behind him and follows him as he walks into her kitchen and sits down at the table. The tired ballerina, still in her dance clothes and her hair tied up in a messy bun as if she hadn’t changed at all despite leaving the studio a few hours ago, sighs when Jean pulls out the ice cream. She reaches for it, her fingers tracing the picture of the smooth green scoop on the front. “You even got my favorite one…but I really shouldn’t.”

“Ah, it’s fine,” Jean assures her. He knows the strict diet of a dancer all too well, but he doesn’t think it hurts to indulge oneself occasionally – just as long as he never mentions it to the manager anyway. “You deserve it. Have you even celebrated after getting the part? Any other dancer would be over the moon.”

Mikasa Ackerman is the most talented dancer in the Rose Ballet Company – or at least she was until Annie Leonhardt came around. Even though Mikasa had easily earned the lead role in all the ballet productions she had been auditioned for ever since she had been a part of the company, Annie Leonhardt had come and shaken everyone up by taking the part of Juliet in the Romeo and Juliet ballet. After that, the two of them had alternated between leading roles, furiously practicing day and night to be the prima ballerina. If Mikasa earned the titular role in Giselle, then Annie would do the same for Cinderella the next year. When Annie became Odette in Swan Lake, Mikasa would bitterly play Odile. When Mikasa successfully snagged the role of the Sylphide in a ballet of the same name, then Annie watched from the sides as Mikasa’s understudy, hoping that the lead ballerina would quite literally break a leg on stage. At one point during this rivalry, Mikasa stopped dancing for herself and started dancing just to beat Annie. She’s still brilliant and mesmerizing to watch, but she’s not the same as she was when she was a young ballerina at the age of ten, hypnotizing online viewers in the viral video that had gained her recognition and admiration from dancers everywhere.

Tonight, Jean suspects that Mikasa had planned to dance the night away in her apartment. The floor of her living room is cleared for dancing and the theme from Le Papillon is playing in the background. If these aren’t big enough hints, then the sweat on her forehead, the flush of red on her cheeks, and loose strands of hair sticking to the back of her neck are a dead giveaway. She probably would have danced until she collapsed if he hadn’t stopped by.

“I am over the moon,” Mikasa insists, although she doesn’t look very happy. She reaches up to tighten her bun, frowning when a few locks of hair fall when she pulls at it. She undoes it entirely, letting her hair fall into her face before gathering it up again and tying it back up. She’s already standing up again, not even giving the carton of ice cream another glance. “I just want to make sure everything goes well. The show’s in a few weeks after all. Would you mind putting the ice cream in the fridge? I’ll eat it later.”

“Are you sure you want to practice more? You were working your ass off in the studio. Maybe you should take a break.” Even though he had just sat down a few moments ago, Jean gets up from his seat and follows Mikasa to her living room.

“It’s still early.” She sits down at her laptop and pulls up the music for the duet that Djalma and Farfalla have. “It’s good that you’re here too. Now we can practice together.”

“Together?” Jean repeats. Normally he’d jump at the chance to practice one-on-one with Mikasa, but it’s just about time for any normal person to go to sleep. After all the practicing she had already done in the studio, it’s a wonder how Mikasa isn’t exhausted already. Jean glances out Mikasa’s window, the city dark except for a few lights from the windows of night owls and 24-hour restaurants in the city. “I don’t know, Mikasa,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck with a frown. “Don’t you think you’ve practiced enough for today? You’re going to overwork yourself at this rate. It can’t be good to dance this much when you’re so stressed out either.”

“Stressed? Why would I be stressed?” Mikasa takes a swig from her water bottle and sets it down next to her laptop. She straightens up, stretching her arms above her head and twists from one side to the other. It’s meant to loosen her up, but Jean has never seen her so stiff. Usually, her movements are so fluid and graceful even if she’s taking just a simple step, but she’s been uncharacteristically mechanical ever since it had been announced that she’d be playing Farfalla.

Because you’re always afraid of losing your spot to Annie, Jean wants to reply, but he’s not stupid enough to say it out loud. Instead, he hovers behind her as she glides across the room, her movements more hesitant than they usually are. He can tell by the expression on her face – her lips tightened in a hard line and her brow knitted together in concentration – that this dance is a struggle for her even though she had executed it flawlessly during auditions only a week ago. Jean joins her, trying to guide her gently, but it’s as if they’re out of step with each other. Mikasa takes a left step when they’re supposed to go right. She turns a little too late so they’re out of sync. Her jumps, once effortless and light, seem to take too much of her strength and she hardly gets off the ground. He knows even before she takes a leap off the ground that this lift will be no better, and he’s not surprised when he does manage to carry her off the ground that she’s not fit to dance on the stage if she carries on like this. She must know it too, because she all but collapses on the floor, leaning over to rest her hands on her knees.

“Mikasa, you have to rest.” He walks over to where she is, reaching out to rest his hand gently on her back. “This isn’t good for you. It’s like every muscle in your body has tensed up.”

She doesn’t respond right away. Instead, Mikasa continues to look at the ground, breathing heavily. “You could tell?” she finally asks with a shaky laugh. It’s meant to be said jokingly, but there’s a tinge of bitterness to her voice. She sits down on the hardwood floor, her head in her hands as she stares at the ground.

Of course, Jean could tell. How could he not? He had been dancing with her for years and had memorized her movements even years before that. After watching that first video of her when she was a child – when he was a child himself – dancing as Clara in a children’s ballet production of The Nutcracker, he had tried to imitate her beauty and grace himself, but he could never recreate her fluid movements no matter how hard he tried. He had thought it was nothing short of a miracle that allowed him to become a part of the same ballet company she was in and dance beside her, finally able to observe her up close instead of from the stage or through a screen. He knew how Mikasa danced, could pick her up from a crowd of ballerinas just from the way she stepped, so why wouldn’t notice this?

Jean picks up her water bottle, unscrewing the cap and handing it to her. He keeps his thoughts silent, asking instead, “Do you want a drink?”

Mikasa reaches out so that Jean can give her the bottle and she takes a big swig of water, throwing back her head as she does so. She hands him back the bottle so he can have a drink too. “I’m sorry I practically forced you to dance with me,” she says as she watches him drink. She rests her head on her knees, her arms wrapped around her legs. “I should have listened to you and taken a rest. It’s probably not fun to dance with someone who’s practically a robot.”

“It’s fine. I don’t really mind,” Jean says with a shrug. He’d dance off the edge of the earth if that’s what she wanted, although he’d never say that out loud. “It’s just that…you used to look like you were having so much fun while you were dancing and now…you look like you’re not enjoying it at all.”

“What?” Mikasa raises her head.

Jean wonders if it’s out of line for him to talk to her about something like this. It’s not as if it’s any of his business even if they are friends. Then again, he’s already brought it up, so he can’t really back out of it now.

“You’ve noticed, haven’t you?” Jean asks. He avoids her gaze and looks down at the water bottle instead, fiddling with it in his hands. “It happened ever since Annie joined the company. It’s like you two are more focused on your rivalry than the ballet at times…and I think it’s starting to get to you.” Hesitantly, he looks up at her, expecting to see an angry expression on her face, but he’s surprised to see that she looks somewhat relieved.

She lets out a long sigh. “I guess you’re right,” Mikasa says. She reaches up to undo the uncomfortable bun on the top of her head. Her hair, usually pin straight but wavy now from being tied up for so long, falls and curls around the curve of her cheek. She brushes it away, tucking her hair behind her ears. She looks a little calmer now, not as tense as she was before. “I think I’ve always known it, but I guess it didn’t really hit me until you said it out loud.” She untangles her limbs, her legs stretched out before her. “It’s just that I’ve never had anyone…challenge me like this. I know I shouldn’t be upset when she gets picked for the lead role over me, but I do. It’s hard practicing night after night for weeks only to get picked as the understudy…and when I do get picked for the lead, I’m not even sure if I deserve it. When I have nights like these…sometimes it feels like they picked the wrong person.”

“No,” Jean says so suddenly that it surprises even himself. He sees Mikasa staring at him in confusion, so he clears his throat and continues. “You definitely deserve every role you get – lead or otherwise – and you deserve this one too.” He sets the water bottle aside and looks at Mikasa. “Look, Annie’s talented. She’s great at what she does – pirouettes and pointe and all that – but you’re great too. You’re fantastic. You always have been. You work hard and sometimes you work too hard, but you’re the one they chose for this part because you’re the one who’s perfect for this part. If you think otherwise…well, you’re wrong.”

Mikasa stares at him, blinking in surprise. Suddenly, her face breaks into a smile. Jean realizes it’s the first smile he’s seen from her since she had received the part. “Was I dancing so horribly that you had to give me such a serious talk?” she asks him. He’s embarrassed for a moment and thinks that he’s crossed a line, but Mikasa laughs. “I needed that though, so thanks.”

“Of course,” Jean mumbles. He rubs the back of his neck once more and feels how hot it is. He’s sure that his face is turning a bright red right about now, so he looks down at the ground where he can see his blushing face reflected at him.

“I guess that means I’m done for the night,” Mikasa says with a sigh. She looks over at Jean, still smiling at him. “Good thing you came or else I would have danced myself to death. How is it that you know me so well, Jean?”

It could be because he has known her for so long, has danced side by side with her for years, and knows her better than he does the back of his own hand. He knows that’s not the reason though. He knows that it’s because he’s been in love with her since he had first watched her dance. She had been the reason why he had pursued ballet in the first place, and when he was finally able to meet her in person, he fell in love with more than her dancing. He’s memorized the way she tilts her face as she stares up at the spotlight after a movement, and he knows that when she closes her eyes as she dances, she’s imagining the entire story playing out in her head. He can tell from just a glance when she’s feeling too unwell to dance her best, and he knows from just a brush of a hand on the small of her back, her muscles tense, when she’s nervous just before a show. He’s not quite sure when his admiration had shifted to adoration or if any such transitioned occurred at all. Perhaps he had loved her from the very beginning, but it’s not as if he can say that now, so he shuts his mouth before the truth spills from his lips and his unsaid words sit between them, hanging heavy in the air.

But it’s not as if he has to say it out loud. He’s sure that she knows; she’s just kept quiet about it just like him. Mikasa would have to be truly oblivious not to notice the long stares or the careful way he sets her down after a lift, gentle but wistful as if he never wanted to let her go. There are times that Jean thinks that she shares the same feelings, can swear that this is so when she lingers in his arms just a little too long during rehearsals, but he convinces himself that it was just his imagination when they go home for the day. This is one of the times where he’s certain that Mikasa knows, might even reciprocate his feelings, and he thinks that something might happen because of the way she looks at him, her lips parted slightly as if she’s about to tell him something, but she turns away and he’s disappointed in himself again.

“Do you want to eat that ice cream now?” Mikasa asks. She pushes herself up off the ground and reaches out a hand to help Jean up.

He’s not really in the mood for ice cream, but it’s not as if he has any other business here. He could, of course, tell her the real reason he had come here. It’s not because he had wanted to cheer her up, and it’s not simply because he cares about her; it’s because he loves her, but that’s not something he can say to her right now. She had just begun to relax about the show a little while ago, and he can’t burden her with his own feelings. Instead, he takes her hand and allows her to help him up.

With a fake smile on his face, Jean says, “Sure.”  

[inky-imagines]

Tea-ee’s OC special

With this, I’ve completed all the OC specials, sort of.

There’s still one more, but the person never sent the info I need so I haven’t been able to write it. I could just ask them for it, but it’s been a while, and I think I bothered them enough at the time (AKA, I’m a asocial coward who doesn’t like messaging people).

Anyhoo, this one’s for @tea-ee​. Sorry it took so long. I hope you enjoy! ^^

TW: Mentions of death and violence

The attack had been brutal. All battles were, he knew that, but this kind of mindless destruction hadn’t been seen in centuries.

People milled around the shattered guard, careful not to tread on the innumerable injured member lined up on the floor. Ewelein and her team were working overtime to accommodate the many, many hurt member who’d been caught in the initial blast. Working so hard to keep anyone from joining those who’d passed.

Ezarel looked away from the sight, focusing on the slow drip of his burette. It was calming on the worst of days. The regular drops falling into the beaker, filling it slowly with vibrant colours gave him time to think. To breathe.

Now it felt like choking.

He can still remember the first explosion. How people were literally thrown through the air from the force. The bloody battle that had followed after. He’d gained new scars in that fight. Nothing to be proud about; he’d almost lost his life after all.

But those hadn’t been the worse part of the attack. No. It was the aftermath.

Names were called, people searched for. Some answered back, a few were found. Most were not.

They searched, and they saved and they hoped, but no. They’d lost more than they could’ve ever imagined in less than an hour.

The entire Eldaryan guard brought to its knees by a small group of people and some explosives.

“Pathetic.” He hissed, fist curling against the table.

“Don’t be so harsh on yourself, Ez.” You stood in the destroyed doorway of his lab, a cheeky smile on your face. “You can’t help it.”

He snorted, turning back to the equipment, both appreciating the sudden company and wishing you’d leave him be. “I’m not even going to dignify that with a response.”

“You technically did though.” Sauntering in, you appraised the damaged lab with a raised eyebrow. “Damn, they really trashed the place, didn’t they?”

“It’s still functional. Unlike other areas.” He could feel your body heat as you stood beside him but refused to meet your gaze, choosing to continue watching the steady drips.

“Barely.” A hand delicately landed on his shoulder. At the lack of reaction, you gripped it more firmly – more reassuringly. “You hanging in there?”

He shrugged half-heartedly. “Doing better than the others.”

“The others are barely keeping their shit together.” You retort. “They’re not the best measuring stick.”

“They’re the only one I have.” He finally looked at you, forcing a half-assed smile. “And you? I heard you were pretty close to the initial blast.”

“As you can see,” You gesture to your bandages and gauzes. “I got off pretty lightly all things considered.” He nodded in agreement, returning to the apparatus once more.

Truthfully, he wasn’t strong enough for social interaction. Heavy guilt constantly weighed him down. Questions and scenarios of how he could’ve prevented all of haunted him. The past day’s events had left him lifeless; it was a miracle he was even able to work when all he wanted to do was to collapse and never wake up.

At the same time, he needed the closeness. Needed someone, something, to pull him from the whirlwind inside his head. Needed to be reminded that not everything was lost.

And you seemed to understand that, taking a seat beside him and quietly looking through the forensic results of what little evidence they’d collected. For hours, you both just sat there, in perfect quiet, the only sounds breaking the temporary peace were the sounds of rustling papers or an occasional cough from the floor below.

For the first time in what felt like years, Ezarel was at peace.

“Hey, Ez?” He glanced at you questioningly. “What’s that?”

You gestured to the brightly-coloured bottle in his hands, the finished product of his hours of titration.

“Analyser. Concentrated.” Seeing your mystified look, he explained. “We use it to [analyse and track something based on what we’ve found on the crime scene.”

“Huh. Didn’t know you guys had forensic science too.” You crossed your legs, the documents in your hands placed neatly on top. “Didn’t Nevra say there was no trace at the site though? What’s the point of that?”

“Anything leaves a trace, Y/N. It’s just a matter of finding it.” He tucked the potion on his belt, collecting a few more drafts from the table and gesturing for you to do the same.

The bottles are suspiciously examined, but you load them into your arms, following him out the door. “You've found something?”

“I suspect something. I need the analyser to confirm it.” Down the stairs he went, you jogging to keep up with his long strides.

“And what,” You ask, pausing to watch Ezarel hand the concoctions to the medical staff and injured. “Do you suspect?”

He didn’t answer for a while, continuing to pass out the medicine before pulling you to a quiet corner. “I think,” He stopped, swallowing. “I think we have a traitor amongst us.”

Your reaction wasn’t at all what he expected. Surprise, fear maybe even disbelief. But he got… nothing. Nothing at all. It was like someone had swiped you clean of everything that made you human, leaving a cold robotic shell in your place.

“Y/N?” At the sound of your name you shook your head, expression and life returning to your features but it was too late. A small pit of dread settled in his stomach.

“Sorry, sorry. You surprised me so much I zoned out for a moment.” You said, scratching your cheek. Your expression goes from bashful to serious as you return to the topic at hand. “Didn’t we deal with the traitor already? Leiftan’s gone and there’s no one else with a motive, right?”

Muttering how it’s just a theory and you should keep it yourself for now, he slunk away. He didn’t want to consider it, even hypothetically, but your reaction…

“Damn.” He growled, fingers raking through his blue locks. “They’re a suspect too.”

-

Logic was a bitch. It was unforgiving, cold and indifferent. No matter how you look at something – in the end, no matter how you wanted – objectively, the truth never changed.

Usually, he loved that. But now it made him sick.

No matter how he spun it, looked at it, broke it down and build it up, the conclusion never changed: you were the traitor.

You were the one on guard duty that night. The closest to the blast, but relatively unharmed all things considering. You had the motive, you had the skills. You didn’t have an alibi beyond your own word.

“Damn it!” The desk shook from of the force of his punch, it’s trembling slowly steadying even as his breathing did not.

He didn’t want to believe it. He couldn’t.

You were so kind, so sweet. Even with the wrongs they’d done to you, he couldn’t imagine you resort to such senseless violence.

And the others wouldn’t either. Even if the circumstantial evidence screamed that you were a danger to the guard, nobody else would believe him. He’d need physical proof of your betrayal before e could talk to anyone else about this.

But where could he find his proof? What would he do if he didn’t find anything?

A steadying breath. “One step at a time, Ezarel.”

The obvious place to search was the blast site,  a small alcove on your patrol route. It was less of an alcove now and more of a gaping hole in the wall.

There hadn’t been enough time to properly fill the void, so the hole had a few strips of flimsy tape ‘covering’ it that did nothing to block out the chill of the night.

Almost as if it was cursed, people avoided the area, some going as far as taking a longer route just be saved the walk past the painful reminder of their loss.

The lack of people and chill of the night air made the entire area far creepier than it should, and for a moment, Ezarel considered leaving the investigation until tomorrow.

But this couldn’t wait.

At first, it seemed the place was barren of anything useful. Some shrapnel here and there, a little-dried blood the clean-up crew that missed. Nothing he could use. Then he saw it.

Your knife. A once beautiful silver blade he and Valkyon had taken great pains to craft for your last birthday, now it lay on the ground blackened. And lying next to it…

“Flint.” This was worse than he thought. Before this point, he’d thought your role would be limited to a mole of sorts. The worst you could’ve done was the rest of the attackers in. But this…

“You aren’t supposed to be here.” His blood froze. Behind him, you approached. You moved too quickly for him to react, to quickly for him to comprehend what you’d done until he spied the blood-soaked blade in your hand.

He collapsed, a hand pressed against the wound in his stomach.

“_-____....” You appraised him with that same cold, robotic look from before. The blood staining your hands didn’t seem to bother you at all.

You both stared at each other, one with the pain of betrayal, the other with nothing at all.

“Why- why would you do this?” The question is spat out with his blood, the words are dripping with pain.

“The stabbing or the betrayal? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure they’re both pretty self-explanatory.” You turn away, bending to pick up your knife. A shadow of melancholy crossed your features as you stare at it, turning it in your hands.

“You betrayed us! Why?”

“Of all the- Are you serious?” You laughed – a bitter, harsh bark that sounded so wrong from your mouth – clenching the knife so hard he could see rivulets of blood run the blade. “The potion? All the times you’ve used me as bait? The way you leave me to pick up the pieces every time you’ve finished ruining my life?“

“Your grudge is against us: the captains. You shouldn’t have gotten innocents involved.” He just has to keep you talking. With such copious amounts of blood spilt,  there’s no doubt Nevra would find him soon; he just survives until then.

Your face crumples so suddenly, he’s taken back. “I didn’t want to… all those people…” Maybe it’s a trick of the light, but there’s a wet glint in your eyes. You square your shoulders, eyes narrowing. “I had no choice.”

“You always have a choice.”

“God, you sound like a bad action flick.” You snort, kneeling beside him. Let’s make something clear: I didn’t want this. Or for all those people get hurt. But-“ Gone is the soft, almost apologetic look, replaced with bitterness and anger. “If it means you suffer, even a little, I’d do it all over again. You understand? You people took everything from me. I’m repaying the favour.”

He tried to speak, to protest, but something blocks the words. He could only stare into your hateful gaze with dread. This person you’ve become… he’s afraid. Of what you can do. Of what you will do.

“_____.” You both turn to see Ashkore, standing just outside the hole, arms crossed. “We’re leaving.”

“You-! You’ve been working with him?”

“Obviously. We share an interest in your demise.”  

“You’ll never get away with this.” He managed past the pain and dread. His defiance only amused you though; a giggle just as acrid as the last escaping your lips.

“I think you’ll find I currently am.” You push yourself up, standing tall over his vulnerable body. A foot is raised, and he flinched. “Don’t worry, Ez. Nevra’ll here pretty soon I’m sure. You won’t die today.” You smiled radiating pure malice. “You don’t deserve the luxury. Goodbye.”

Then your foot came down and his world turned black.

[ultimatescenarios]

Ahh, this blog is my life hhhh NDRV3 boys trying to braid their Fem! s/o’s hair, please?! It’s just because I’m a sucker for Kaito

YES!! I AM SO ON BOARD

This is what I’ve been missing in my life.

I’m very glad to hear you’re enjoying the blog! Though I’m sorry you gotta put up with my writing-I’ll just post this now before I go to sleep as an apology for making y’all wait for so long!!

- Mod Kaede

NDRV3 Male Cast trying to braid their Fem!S/o’s hair

Shuichi Saihara

Silence. He says nothing; he’s too busy concentrating on the parted sections of your hair.

He’s very careful not to pull or tug on anything that’ll lead to your distress. Which sounds sweet but he’s acting as if one mishap could lead to you shattering like glass.

He has no idea what he’s doing. There’s a reason why he likes keeping his hair short and not needing to style it. And the fact that he’s attempting a classic french braid isn’t helping at all. That’s what he thought you wanted, so he’ll do his best.

But is now lost in the strands of flaking hairs that just won’t stay put. “How do girls do this every day?” He now feels like girls are some superior being. He had no idea how difficult this was to do, “And you have to do this by yourself!?”

He asks so many questions, from “Is this okay?” to “This doesn’t hurt, does it?” and of course, “It’s not too tight, right?”

His fingers get tangled in your locks countless times during the entire venture. All you can hear coming from him is an amalgamation of winces and apologies.

And by the end of it, you’re given a sloppy, french braid that looks to be like you’ve slept in it for two days straight.

He’s apologizing profusely.

K1-B0

He insists you let him braid your hair. As long as you’re willing to, of course. He would appreciate the experience and chance to experiment.

If you offer to help or explain the basics he stops you short, informing you that he came prepared and has downloaded and analyzed many tutorials prior to this session.

He even asks what kind of braid you would like, even though he would like to attempt several.

Depending on how much static your hair collects, his electric-circuiting shocks you a few times.

It’s not unyielding irritating, more like an electrified jolt that pulses through your scalp and down your spine.

It’s a little relaxing after you get used to the feeling.

He takes his time and is acting very nonchalant about it.

It’s his first time trying this, he’s never had any previous experience. But you’re surprised to see it’s reasonably neat, nowhere near professional though, but considering the struggles he encountered using his stiff robotic hands, he didn’t do such a terrible job overall.

Before you have a chance to look at the entire finished product or even thank him, he’s untying your hair and brushing through it to try again.

You better grab out something to keep you busy. You’re going to be here for a while…

Kaito Momota

Either of you could have suggested the idea really, but after seeing how pretty you looked in braids he wanted to give it a try.

He’s a little rough but isn’t exactly ripping out chunks of hair, just indirect tugging here and there that makes your head sway in all directions.

His hands are fumbling and he’s so confused. Your hair keeps tangling within itself somehow and he’s not helping the situation with the loose grip he has on the sections of your hair.

At some point, he started sticking his tongue out of his mouth with the amount of focus he was putting on such a small task.

He even struggles with finishing the hairstyle. Yes, he continued until the last strands of your hair slipped right off his hands and ruined the whole braid. He was so close to finishing it too.

He’s a little annoyed since the two of you have been sitting here for almost an hour. Which was mostly him trying to figure out how to braid hair without any tutorials…he was beginning to get the hang of it. And proud of that too.

So proud, in fact, he tries again, brushing through your hair with his fingers, whether you try to persuade him to use a brush or not, he claims one of his most repetitive lines: “Kaito Momota, Luminary of the Stars, doesn’t need a brush OR tutorials!”

You must admit his energy and attitude towards what can be a tedious and annoying chore at times, is very cute, and admirable in a way. So you let him have his fun.

Even if he turns your once luscious and unique hair features into something that could be mistaken for a bird’s nest. He’s too much of an adorable dork for you to stay or get mad at. Just admit it.

Rantaro Amami

He knows a few tricks about braiding hair. He was never any good at formal braids but could basic and fishtail braid like a (not-self-proclaimed) pro.

It’s due to his 12 sisters who insisted him, specifically, do their hair for many years. Since he was closest to his sisters in comparison to his half-brothers.

So he’s decently confident with his skills and is sure he’d be able to style a braid in a way to compliment your features.

He gathers a few accessories to add to the mix or aid him in this quest. From bobby pins to decorative clips, he’s got some ideas already festering in his mind.

He brushes out your hair carefully and almost pampers you through the entire crusade as if you were in an overly affectionate beauty salon. Having placed you on the floor with him behind, you should have known some cuddles and kisses would happen eventually.

He’s very calm while piecing your hair together in two, over-the-shoulder fishtail braids. Talking to you like he normally would since it’s almost become a second nature for him to multitask like this.

When he’s finished… Well, you react to the braid however you do, but as much as you might hate to admit it, he does a better job at braiding then you do.But with added accessories accustomed to your skin-tone, preferences and physical features of course it looks pretty! Prettier then it probably should!

Kokichi Oma

He’s seen couples in relationships do this for fun online. You already know he wants to try it for himself.

He doesn’t even notify you of it happening. All you were doing was minding your own business and like a beauty ninja, he’s sitting behind you and brushing your hair thoroughly before parting it into sections…more than three sections at that.

If you dare question it… “Nee-hee-hee~ No peeking, S/O! My talents don’t just end with being an Ultimate Supreme Leader, y’know?” …or even try to get anything out of him about what he’s doing or plotting there’s no chance he’s going to spill. And if he were to, how can you be sure he’s not lying?

So whether you give in or are too stubborn he plays hard to get. “Geez S/O~ If you’re gonna react like that, what’s the point?” And after reacting however you do… “O-KAY~ You’ve persuaded me!” (Literally however you react, whether you remain silent, make a fuss, apologize, get flustered or death glare the brat with a ‘I’m-not-putting-up-with-your-shit-ouma-and-you-know-it’ attitude… god does he loves messing with you)

He’s not the most gentle about it. And you can feel a weight growing above your head…yeah maybe it’s not the best idea to let Kokichi try to braid your hair…

If you try to get a glimpse of him, he’s wearing one of those terrifying smiles that screams devil’s child.

He whines that you were trying to peek and is forced to start again. Blaming you. It’s entirely your fault. Sigh.

When he’s finally done messing with you, you finally get to see he decided to give you a waterfall twist braid.How he has the skills to do this is beyond you.And cough he may or may not have been googling how-to-braid the entirety of the previous night OR been practicing on himself cOUGH.

Korekiyo Shinguji

He’s surprisingly good at braiding hair. He’s had experience styling his own hair in the past. Whether it be for the sake of art, beauty, creative mind, experience or an understanding.

And from the fashion research he’s done in the past about human’s and their trends…let’s just say he knows a lot of different styles and techniques.

He asks if you had a preference and if not he will happily give you a style that will suit your face and frame.

He asks you to wash your hair before hand to get the best experience and outcome from this, whether you go through with this or not is all up to you.

And thanks you for the opportunity to braid someone else’s hair for once.

He takes quite a long time to prepare your hair. Brushing through it at least a few 10 times and clipping away parts he doesn’t wish to get in the way.

He has to pause during the session multiple times to take notes. On how you react, to how it feels being on his end, he even asks you questions during moments of massaging your scalp, tugging on the strands and so forth. “It’s for research, S/O. A passionate Anthropologist must get accounts from those within society to get a better outlook of the entire spectrum. And since this is a rare encounter I must document every precise detail.”

When he finally gets along with it, he doesn’t struggle as much as you’d think through his bandages. Over the years he’s grown accustom to their feel and how to utilize his senses.

It takes time, since he wanted to test his skills (and take so many notes). But once he’s finally finished and your neck and back are killing you from resting in the same position for over an hour. He outdid his previous attempts at braiding and gave you an inverted fishtail braid.

Ryoma Hoshi

How you got him to do this. I don’t know. But he’s braiding your hair anyway. Well done S/O.

He goes with the simple and standard braid. Whether he intended for it to be loose is for him to know and only him.

You have to do most of the work, like combing your hair. And while he doesn’t know why you want him to do this, he goes along with it anyway. Eventually confessing “It’s things like this I missed while in prison.”

Admittedly he enjoys fiddling with you locks. It’s a strange sensation he hasn’t really experienced since he prefers to keep his hair extremely short.

He goes silent at some point. You didn’t for the room to go quiet, but really he almost gets lost in the feeling of your strands of hair. You wouldn’t know it of course. The expression he’s gained after many years of enduring what happens within the walls of a prison has made it so he’s unreadable.

But the fact that it takes him about 30 minutes to give you a three strand braid gives away how much he was enjoying pampering you in such a way.

He’s talking himself down again, unsure why you wanted this in the first place.

But it looks nice. The amount of looseness around the back of your neck makes it feel like it’s not even there. It’s comfortable and because it’s tied together won’t get knotted or caught on anything.Oh and! It perfectly fits on both of your shoulders and doesn’t irritate your beck at all! Ifitslongenoughofcourse seriously, love this boy!

Gonta Gokuhara

He doesn’t know what he’s doing. You might think he would…but there’s a reason why his hair is so…natural.

His robust hands don’t help the situation either. He’s struggling to traditionally braid your hair. And apologizes for the amount of times he needs to start all over again.

Eventually he settles with giving the hair around your ear special attention and gives you a small braid that almost blends into your hair.

He asks so many questions. To keep a conversation going and to know what you would prefer.

He decides to add in some flowers he recently picked in the meadow. Just so the braid appears more apparent drowned in your locks.

He’s very new to this, so please have patience with him. He’s very glad you suggested this. And what kind of gentlemen would deny a lady of such a lovely wish?

It doesn’t take him long to finish the single braid. And he’s so happy with the end result. But the fun isn’t over yet. He gets a little carried away with tucking in pieces of flowers and natural greenery.

He wants to try again. He’s so eager about it too. You’re making him rethink his own hairstyle…maybe the two of you could match? Couples often match with each other, right?He’s not finished btw. practice makes perfect, so you know whenever you want/need your hair braided he’s gonna offer to do it for you.

also since the English localization is popular with a lot of the English fans I’ll just write my future prompts in correlation to the English localization to lower chances of confusion.

Unless some demand the Japanese quirks (Ouma using the honorific ‘chan’ for everyone, the original laughs {i.e Nishishi, Kyah-kyah-kyah, Kukuku}, Tenko’s pun of MENace, Angie/Gonta/Tenko’s speaking mannerisms, etc) feel free to lemme know! I’d be happy to add such details in!especially since the eng localization has been brainwashing me to the point where I almost forgot Tenko’s pun … her PUN

[artlessictoan]

Day 3 – Polyamory, KaruHinaTema

took ages to get any ideas for this day but some of my fic-buds gave me a couple of prompts, ended up longer than intended but i’m happy with it! (hina is trans btw)

---

Day 3 – Polyamory, KaruHinaTema

---

Her hand was trembling as she painstakingly painted a single line, her breathing shallow and rapid. If she didn’t calm herself down quickly, Hinata was going to end up taking her own eye out, but she just couldn’t bring her arm under her complete control, not even when she brought her free hand to steady it – if anything, that just made her shaking even worse.

Finally, her liner was complete; she opened her eye to see the result. It immediately disappeared underneath her eyelid. She had to restrain the urge to growl as she pressed a little closer to the mirror and – keeping her eye open this time – drew another line across her skin.

Blinking at her reflection, she couldn’t help but grimace. She leaned back in the hopes that maybe it just looked so bad because she was staring at point-blank range, but the extra distance didn’t really make the black streak across her eyelid any less wobbly.

Crying would definitely just make her terrible attempt at winged eyeliner even more smudgy, but she really was tempted to break down; just for a few minutes.

It was safe to say that she failed hard at makeup. Maybe the foundation kind of worked, if you didn’t mind it being half an inch thick, and it was difficult to mess up lipstick, though she wished she’d gone with a different shade, but her eyes were completely unsalvageable. She really should’ve watched some videos before attempting this, but she’d been rummaging through dresser drawers trying to find her contact cleaner and there were some old bottles that Temari had probably gotten for her birthday and never bothered to use sitting right there and before she’d really registered what she was doing the tiny four year-old who’d sit on her mother’s lap while she was doing her makeup had pulled the cap off the lipstick and now she had this mess to deal with.

Hinata sighed, rummaging around the dresser for tissues when the faint click of the door being opened made her jump. Hand pressed against her thudding heart, she turned to face her girlfriend, who was already apologising for scaring her – she could never resent Temari’s habit of creeping around the house in near-total silence, but that didn’t mean she had to like it – before she actually took the time to really look her up and down.

Quite obviously biting back a smirk, she gestured vaguely to Hinata’s face. “Bold look you’re going for there.”

Giving her girlfriend the blankest look she was capable of – and she’d had a lot of practice from listening to her father’s transphobic comments throughout her childhood – she returned to opening drawers until she found the makeup remover. “Your entire face is a bold look, but you don’t hear me talking about it.”

Five years ago, she never would’ve dared say anything like that to anyone, not even behind their back, but her girlfriends had been encouraging her to let her ‘sassy thoughts’ out, if only because they got a kick out of the disconnect between her sweet, feminine image and her surprisingly sharp comments, especially when there were others around to gap in shock.

“Wow, not pulling any punches today are we?” Temari was laughing hard, her giant grin showing off her dimples.

Hinata couldn’t help smiling a little herself; they were just so cute.

“Seriously though, what’s with all this?”

It took a long while to find an answer, time she spent staring at her reflection and overlaying it with the image she’d had in her head. “I… just wanted to try it.”

There was a small huff from her side, before Temari wiggled her way between Hinata and the dresser, sitting down on it as she pressed her rough-skinned hands to either side of her face. Her thumbs rubbed gently under her eyes as she said, “It’s for you, right? Not because it’s what people expect from you, or because they don’t have the right eyes to see how perfect you are or-”

“It’s for me,” she said, giggling and laying her own hands over Temari’s. “I just think it’s so beautiful, to be able to paint your truest self onto your skin… it’s like your tattoos, I just want another way to express myself.”

Dark eyes stared deeply into hers for what felt like a lifetime, but eventually her girlfriend was satisfied with whatever she found there. “Alright, good. Now shuffle back a bit so I can fix this.”

She blinked as she tried to digest Temari’s implication.

“Oh, don’t give me that look!” Slapping lightly at her arm, Temari forcibly pushed her chair back a few inches and settled more comfortably on the dresser, picking up the pack of baby wipes and fighting with the seal.

Hinata had to bite her lip, eyeing her girlfriend’s completely bare face doubtfully. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing? I mean, you’re kinda butch…”

Temari rolled her dark eyes, flapping a wipe in one hand before slapping it to Hinata’s cheek. “I’m very butch, thank you.” Apparently, she still didn’t look very impressed, because she rubbed away at her forehead harder than was strictly necessary. “C’mon, I’ve seen both my brothers do this a million times before, how hard could it possibly be?”

---

“…Temari what the fuck are you doing to our baby girl?”

Perhaps she should’ve jumped to her defence, but honestly at this point Hinata was too horrified by her own reflection to even look at Karui as she walked into their bedroom.

“Shut up, I can still make this work!”

Karui’s face appeared in the mirror, one brow raised and her mouth pulled into a tight line. “Kinda looks like you’ve just punched her in the eyes a couple times and then bit her entire mouth – is that supposed to be lip-liner?”

Slapping their meddling girlfriend away, Temari pulled at Hinata’s chin and swiped a foundation laden brush under her eyes – a poor attempt to cover up the deep plum eyeshadow that she’d been more than a little overeager with – all while snapping, “I. Can. Do. This.”

“And by ‘this’ you mean ‘make our beautiful angel look like a sleep-deprived clown?’ If so then good job.”

“If you’re just going to criticise you can do it somewhere else, I’m trying to concentrate here, besides, Hina thinks I’m doing a good job, right babe?” She didn’t bother replying, because anything she might say would only be ignored when the stubborn woman had a point to prove, but hopefully her expression would get her feelings on the matter across quite well. “See, she loves it.”

Karui’s mouth dropped open in horror when Temari reached for an eyeshadow pallet, selected the glittery gold one and spread it across one eyelid.

“Ok, no, see you’re just drawing attention to the piss-poor job you’ve done, here, stop, just-” Placing one hand fully over Temari’s face, Karui pushed until she was forced to abandon the dresser and immediately took her place, already reaching for the makeup remover. She was gentler in wiping her face clean than Temari was, but Hinata was still fidgeting nervously in her seat when she started eyeing the collection of tubes.

“Is adding another butch to the equation really the best idea?” she asked, berating herself for ever trying this out in the first place; if only because her girlfriends were both too competitive to ever let an opportunity to one-up each other slide. “I can just look up some tutorials or something…”

Already squeezing out a little foundation onto the back of her hand, Karui shook her head. “Nope, I’m gonna do this right, my girl deserves nothing but the best! Now what kinda look are you going for?”

“I-” she frowned when, instead of reaching for the brush, Karui instead picked up some moisturiser and added a blob next to the foundation, then gradually mixed the two products together “-I guess something natural… I did want to draw attention to my eyes though.”

Loading a brush with the combined liquid, she set to work.

It was already off to a better start than either of the two previous attempts – mixing the foundation with moisturiser seemed to have lightened it to a shade that better matched her skin and Karui was much more sparing with the product, by the time she was done with it Hinata could barely even feel anything on her face. Next was the highlighter that she’d been too nervous to try out herself, carefully applied to her cheekbones, a light sweep of blush underneath that, finished off with a dusting of that unmarked powder that she’d had no idea how to use.

At some point Temari had leaned in to glare at the work being done. “How the fuck are you so good at this, I’ve literally never seen you wear makeup.”

Karui snorted and leaned back to scrutinise the small selection of lipsticks available, saying, “Yeah, that’s how good I am; you think this jawline is natural?” She held up two in front of Hinata, pursing her lips before chucking one back on the dresser and taking hold of Hinata’s chin, tilting it until she had full access to her lips.

“Seriously?” Temari sounded unimpressed for about five seconds before bursting out laughing.

Carefully swiping a lipstick-coated finger across Hinata’s mouth, Karui glanced at their girlfriend with a very familiar look, Hinata had to giggle slightly in agreement – receiving a flick to the nose for almost messing up Karui’s stroke.

“We can’t all be blessed with cheekbones that could slice through metal-” she turned to Temari with her most obnoxious grin “-just like we can’t all know how to draw a straight fucking line.”

The laughter stopped dead. “Her eyes kept moving, how am I supposed to work with that!”

She was pointedly ignored by the artist, who was too busy dabbing a small brush in the dark grey powder and telling Hinata to close her eyes. The gentle pressure at the lower edge of her eyelid made her try to blink, but as the sensation continued the urge to shudder grew weaker, every time there was a brief respite she wanted to open them again, but Karui’s tutting quickly taught her to just keep them shut until instructed otherwise.

It was a little exciting though, having no idea what was going on, only the strokes against sensitive skin and Temari’s noises of annoyed admiration – an emotion she expressed so often that Hinata could pick it up a mile off, even without seeing her cute, pouting face – to guide her expectations. At some point colours must’ve been changed, because the power felt just slightly different, a little heavier, and a breathy ‘Ohhh’ was released to her left.

She was fidgeting in her seat like a child waiting for their birthday cake to be revealed, burrowing both hands under her thighs just to keep them from flapping, biting the inside of her cheek so she wouldn’t bite her lips and mess them up, heart hammering in her chest every time she heard the clicking and popping of various tubes and compacts, stopping for a moment when she felt the fine, liquid brush sweep under her eyes in a single fluid motion, then rushing back like a drum when Karui told her to open up.

The sensation of slightly powdery skin sliding against skin was unnerving, but when she realised that both her girlfriends were strategically positioned to completely hide the mirror from her desperate eyes all discomfort vanished.

Before she could build up the rant she had planned, Karui snickered and waved a mascara wand in her face. “Look up for a sec and try not to blink.”

“You’d better let me see as soon as you’re done,” she muttered, turning her gaze skyward.

Temari’s soft chuckle brought a smile to her face, even as she was fighting to keep her eyes from flickering so hard that she had to imagine the mascara was going to end up washed away by her tears before any product stuck. “You look so fucking amazing sweetie, I hate it.”

She laughed, hissing when it made Karui accidentally poke the corner of her eye – only on the lid, thank god – but still managed to say, “Such high praise!”

“You’re just bitter ‘cause you lost, loser.” Luckily by the time Temari slapped her arm playfully, Karui had put the wand down and Hinata’s eyes were spared any further torture. She blinked a few times to clear them and glanced back at the two loves of her life, both squashed onto the small dresser having a shoving match that was more endearing than it had any right to be. “Ok, ok-” Karui gave the blonde one last elbow and turned to Hinata with that wide, beautiful grin, “-you ready for this?”

Nodding so hard she gave herself a headrush, she practically dove to the mirror the second they jumped to their feet.

She looked… gorgeous. Never would she have chosen such a bold look for herself, but the subtle sweep of silver across her eyelids, with just a slight hint of glitter when she tilted her head, contrasted with the hard, electric blue streak clinging to her lower lids, really brought out what she’d always considered her best feature.

Tears were definitely coming again, but this time it couldn’t be for a better reason. She spun round to face Temari and Karui, both wearing identical grins, and wrapped an arm around each of their necks. “I love it, thank you so much!” She immediately released them, spinning back to stare at herself some more, mind suddenly filled with all the possibilities she could explore in this whole new avenue of artistic expression.

Karui stalked up behind her, throwing her arm across her shoulders and raising a brow. “You realise that Temari did literally nothing helpful, right?”

“I will snap your fucking neck-”

---

[bondsmagii]

saw your bullet journal post and holy shit how tf r u so productive, that's amazing... it takes me months to finish just one novel dfgkjndfgkjn i also rlly want to work on my languages too bc i feel so illiterate and just UGH how do you do it, you intelligent and hardworking person, you. any tips on time management/productivity and getting yourself to read more?

hey, thanks! would you believe that I used to be in exactly the same boat? honestly I used to procrastinate so badly that I never got anything done, and reading a single book would take me months. like looking back and comparing me then to me now is like looking at a completely different person. I never thought I would be capable of even half of this productivity.

there’s no quick way to do it, I’m afraid. three things worked for me: determination, discipline, and keeping a bullet journal. 

determination to keep focus on where you want to be and the kind of person you want to be; discipline because getting shit done is literally just about doing task after task until it’s done, even if you don’t want to; and a bullet journal to keep track of things. never underestimate how motivating ticking boxes is.

it’s so difficult to get moving, but once you’re moving stay moving. 

it’s so much easier to do something every day, even if it’s a reduced workload, than to do nothing at all. recognise everything you do, and be proud of yourself. no task is too small. there are days where I write 100 words and read a single page because I’m too tired/distracted to do any more, but it’s something. you don’t have to move mountains to feel like you achieved something. moving a mountain would require many months of chipping away at smaller tasks anyway.

which reminds me that discipline is so important. 

there’s gonna be days where you don’t want to do anything. there’s gonna be days where you probably have a good reason for not wanting to do it. but you have to. as much as you should reward yourself, you need to be tough on yourself too. there’s a difference between recognising and respecting your own limits, and coddling yourself. the former will make you a good worker. the latter will make you lazy.

as for reading specifically, build up a tolerance. 

your attention span can seriously decrease if you don’t frequently do long-focus tasks, or you might have other reasons for losing concentration*. start small, with easy to read books, or just a few pages at a time. build up your tolerance. and if a book hooks you, read it all. a day spent reading is never a day wasted. there have been days where I’ve abandoned half of my tasks to finish a book, I believe in that principle so strongly. I also found a goal helps with this: mind is 50 books a year, minimum. perhaps setting a goal might help you, too!

*other reasons for losing concentration

would you believe I have ADHD? if you’re like me and suffer from any kind of disorder where your brain just. occasionally will not do the thing (I had this ask open with the first two sentences written and then forgot about the tab for 45 minutes; only seeing “answer asks” in my bullet journal saved me from forgetting completely) here’s some tips for getting shit done anyway. they might not work for everyone, but they might give you some ideas.

reading-specific

read aloud if you can, or mouth the words as you read them. people will say this isn’t “proper” or that only kids read that way but like my literal literature-degree-holding ass tell you that’s bullshit. if it helps you concentrate go for it.

sometimes I find adding more noise helps, because I can swap what I’m focusing on. I listen to music or watch compilations in the background, and bounce my concentration between it.

other times only complete silence helps. don’t be afraid to lock yourself somewhere for a while.

getting shit done in general

write shit down! in a bullet journal or notebook or anything! lists will help you remember.

have many distractions. usually when I’m working on something I’ll have three or four other things to bounce between. instead of getting 100% of one task done, I’ll get 25% of four, and that’s a) something and b) a base to work off of the next day.

when you’re really restless caffeine can help. this seems like bullshit but it’s actually true for some people.

do attention-heavy things (reading, studying, writing, etc) after doing something energy-heavy, like exercising, going out, or something similar. you may be able to concentrate better because some of the excess energy has been burned off.

if it’s just not happening, leave it. come back to it later. go away and do something else, chill a bit, do something you know you’ll love. if you’re in danger of hyperfocusing and losing the whole day, set an alarm to jolt you back. if it’s boring you there’s no point keeping at it; you’ll just resent it and start to dread it. take a break and come back.

break things into really small tasks. it’s fun to tick boxes and if the tasks are small you’re more likely to do them.

set deadlines and get friends to hold you accountable! this works with bigger projects. 

many of these can work for anyone, too! I hope this helps, and happy reading/studying!