#i like the symmetry of that ngl

[madschiavelique]

˖𓍯. 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐂𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐬. ★. ₊ ⭑

⟢��� pairing : matt murdock x audhd!reader x frank castle

⟢﹒ summary : your family is an ordeal to endure, full of disparaging remarks that make for a horrible evening. fortunately, Matt and Frank come to keep you company during the family diner and take you home to look after you.

⟢﹒ content warnings : hurt/comfort, extremely self-indulgent, reader's family are degrading, audhd reader close to breaking down, reader having sensory issues, reader getting overstimulated, the guys in this are so lovable and sweet boyfriends, afab!reader, no use of Y/N

⟢﹒ word count : 9,3k

⟢﹒ note : had quite a shitty christmas ngl, so i thought writing this piece of comfort would be helpful ! if you only want to read the comfort part, i'll place a separation by using a black divider between the hurt and comfort part. a huge thank you to my bestie @sunflowersandsapphires who proofread this <3. have a good read lovelies!

You passed a q-tip close to your eyes in the hope of correcting the curve of your make-up, trying with that scatterbrained perfectionism that accompanied you in even the most minute tasks to ensure that everything was symmetrical.

Nothing too extravagant, just something elegant, neutral, but that would do. The standard was just to look presentable, from the face to the rest of the body. Jeans, an oversized hoodie, nothing special.

This lack of personal distinction was undoubtedly due to the rejection of perception, the insistent stares, the embarrassing compliments that could suddenly put you in the spotlight tonight, an idea that made you feel profoundly uneasy.

You stepped back a little, checking to see if the much-desired symmetry had been achieved, and no sooner had you put down your utensil than you were asked to do the little cousins' make-up.

Tonight was an annual family reunion: Christmas, where aunts, uncles, grandparents and grandchildren got together over foie gras, salmon and dubious discussions. Where guests who have just left are criticised, where disparaging remarks are exchanged, and where the meal always ends up drifting into politics with more or less heated debates at the table.

You anticipated the evening, an anxious knot already forming in your stomach. You had a particular link with your family, of which the affection was strangely displayed if at all in a way you despised entirely. Every year was a different pain, a different bitter taste that lingered in your thoughts like poison, and you were not delighted to participate in this celebration when you would’ve preferred staying home.

Only one thing held you in place and convinced you that the night wouldn't be a constant and unrelenting hell: Matt and Frank were coming over.

This winter, it was the first time you would’ve been accompanied by them, and by anyone in fact. Knowing the rather strong opinions of your family, the simple idea of saying that you shared your life with two men in a more than platonic way had been dismissed a long time ago. A trouple? If that fell in the ears of one of your family members, you could be sure that you'd become the next freak of the night.

So you talked it over with the boys and came up with a plan to make sure you could bring them both along and not make a big deal of it: one of them would pretend to be your boyfriend, while the other would just be your friend that had nothing better to do for the celebration.

The choice of boyfriend fell on Frank, and friend on Matt.

He had asked why, and you had explained that it was obviously in no way because of favouritism or anything of the sort, but rather the simple fact that he would get more compliments behind his back if he wasn't with you than if he was. 

He'd frowned, but you'd had to explain to them how your family was sometimes built on clusters of shrill gossip, talking behind others' backs and later making remarks to their faces in tones of passive aggressiveness and wicked irony.

You also had to educate them, that no matter what was said about you tonight, not to react. They'd probably be itching to, it would be like a thread sticking out, but they were forbidden to pull on it.

You looked at the clock, seven past. You'd texted Frank to ask where they were and when they'd arrive. Eight thirty had been their reply, and you took a deep breath. An hour and a half to go.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, assuring yourself everything was alright and that you were presentable enough. You can do it, you kept telling yourself, this night knows an end.

The first complications arose sooner than you thought. 

First of all, you'd managed to find a decent seat in an armchair and not on a sofa. However, this seat was very close to the fireplace, where a blazing fire licked the brown logs with appetite. Very close, too close, close enough that it felt suffocating. 

You moved your chair back slightly as best you could, trying not to disturb the conversation that was already well underway.

You tried to take a few snacks, perhaps some cashews, crackers or cherry tomatoes might ease your boredom and distract you from the growing heat.

You pulled out your phone, hoping that Frank and Matt would get here sooner, and would've sent a message to that effect. Or perhaps was there a notification from any of your friends, a reel, a meme, anything-

"Put your phone away, we're with the family."

You looked up, your mother watching you and taking her glass in hand with a look of dissatisfaction. In a single instant, your cheeks heat up all the more as the fire in the fireplace presses against your skin, and you gulped.

"I just wanted to check if I had any news about Matt and Frank's drive," you explained simply, gently stuffing the phone into your pocket.

"They'll arrive when they arrive, but for now, be with us."

You nodded, discreetly biting your cheek as one of your only escapes for tonight went up in smoke. You would have much preferred to be able to escape a little and block out what was going on around you, even sorting out your gallery and deleting useless pictures would have been a more pleasant and less stressful activity.

But you couldn't, and you said nothing when it was your mother's turn to pick up her own phone and connect to the speaker to play her Christmas playlist. 

The children played together, which should’ve been a joy, but their overexcited screams, incessant movements and all that noise were enough to make you feel the headache setting in.

There were easily three different conversations going on around you, and your mother turned up the music in response. You waved, putting your hand in front of you as if you were lazily dribbling an invisible ball to indicate her to lower the volume, and she turned the music down a notch.

You clenched your jaw, thinking to yourself that this was a good start, even if everything else was getting harder to hold on to.

Choosing to wear a hoodie became almost a regret as the ambient heat from the fireplace worked its way up your spine to the nape of your neck, creating an unpleasant feeling. Soon enough, you had to take it all off as the first signs of nausea began to make themselves felt.

You weren't particularly comfortable with the idea, but everyone's attention was obviously diverted enough to take no notice of your actions. Except perhaps for one.

"You could have made an effort on your outfit, it's not very festive." Your mother sighed before taking a sip from her glass of champagne. "Hadn't you lost weight? It would be a shame to spoil the occasion."

You swallowed, the ground looking awfully interesting at this very moment. You knew what would have been said to you if you'd worn something more in the spirit of it, "You've got a nice body, you should wear that more often," and other remarks falling into the famous "you should insert-disobliging-action more often" category.

You should wear that more often. You should smile more often. You should come more often. But none of these requests were of the taste to be fulfilled by you tonight.

So you simply shrugged, having nothing in particular to say, and feeling your heart clench. You were stuck in this contradictory place where if you made one move slightly changing from your usual self to them, you were reprimanded on it, but if you didn’t do anything in particular, they highlighted the fact that it was disappointing you hadn’t done anything.

"Well, we're delighted to have you with us tonight!" chuckled an uncle, raising his glass to you.

"It sure makes a change from knowing she's in her cave," chuckles an aunt.

You smile, but there's no warmth behind the gesture. By cave, they mean your bedroom. Your habit of isolating yourself had brought you a certain reputation within your family, and for years now it has been a recurring joke. They laughed about it every time, but you saw it more as a broken record replaying the same snippet of music... speaking of which, your mother turned up the sound again, thinking you wouldn't notice.

"Could you turn it down please? It's really loud." you ask politely, in the most calm, composed and polite tone you could produce at the moment.

"Oh come on," your mother grumbles, rolling her eyes, "we're allowed to have fun."

She turned up the volume once more, and finally someone other than you told her it was too loud. Reluctantly, she lowered the sound slightly, but it was still not enough for you. Your hands lodge over your ears, hoping with all your heart that this would ease the strain on your eardrums.

Conversations sought to drown out the music, each member pushing their voice for any discussion. Kids were still running around, chasing one another by screaming at each other, and adjusting your eyes on anything without the certainty of getting a headache felt like mission impossible. 

Your hands on your ears helped slightly, and it was only then that your mother looked at you with a surprised expression.

"Does it really hurt?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Yes," you nodded, "it really does."

Finally, she turned it down, and you exhaled as the others resumed a more appropriate though still higher volume of discussion than you'd prefer. The kids had been changed of room, making it more bearable for you to live through. 

"So, what have you been up to lately?" asks one of your grandparents, "how's work?"

Your cheeks heat up, the discussion now turned towards you, prompting you to take your glass in hand just to have something to quench your throat suddenly arid as the sahara.

"Very well, business is good." you smiled falsely, forcing your face to display the features they might normally expect to see.

"Great, and those two guests coming tonight, do you know them from work?"

How could you say that the circumstances in which you had met these two men were in a situation that included Frank and Matt falling into your flat, bloodied, and asking you for help? 

Karen, who you’d known through college, had advised them of your address, and when the first opportunity came up, they had taken the chance to make the most exceptional introduction you'd ever had in your life : stumbling at your place with cuts all around

"In a way, yes," you replied, pressing your lips into a thin line.

"One of them's her boyfriend, and the other's a lawyer," your mother informed the others, who seemed delighted by your seemingly noble company.

It's a good thing the flames in the fireplace were dying down and that it wasn't so hot anymore, because both your cheeks felt like you were resting the back of your hand on hot embers. It was a never-ending embarrassment to have such behaviour around you, saying aloud everything regarding you without you consenting to any information to be given. Wherever ridiculous actions or the slightest subject that was even a little new and out of their boredom-inducing daily lives occurred, they swarmed.

Nevertheless, the conversation drifted away to your delight, and at the mention of your loves, you couldn't stop thinking about them. You would have liked to check the time, to see if they had any problems on the way that might have delayed them, but you knew that such conduct was likely to earn you an additional remark about the use of your telephone. After all, she could find openings as easily as water in a colander.

Just then, a dance song began to play which, objectively, had nothing to do with the Christmas spirit. So everyone stood up, moving the chairs to get more room, and you helped in this cacophony of moved furniture. 

You stood to one side as everyone got to the centre of the room, their dance steps resembling a veritable collective epileptic seizure of which you had no desire to become another member.

You took the opportunity to take refuge in the bathroom, carefully closing the door behind you and sitting down on the toilet to take a deep breath. The after-effects of all these mixed sensations were beginning to make themselves known.

Your body was as taut as a bowstring, as if every muscle had contracted from a high fall, and it felt as if releasing all the tension would break you in thousands of small pieces. Your heart wasn't beating particularly fast, but it was beating hard, and you couldn't ignore it.

You took a deep breath, letting your head fall back as you closed your eyes. Your throat and chest were tight, so tight that you felt like crying right now. But you couldn't, it would be too noticeable once you got out of here, and you didn't want to give them the pleasure of having an extra subject to talk about at the end of the evening once you'd gone. It would do them too much honour, and you couldn't afford to give them any.

You were so tired, you couldn't take it any more, the fatigue coursing through your body like you'd run a marathon of shame. You breathed in again, feeling your previously tight chest slowly relax as your body was jolting a bit from the unease.

This wouldn't last forever. By the end of the evening, after dessert, you wouldn't be in this house surrounded by all these people, all these eyes, all these mouths, all this noise.

That's when your phone buzzed, and without missing a beat, you pulled it out of your pocket. On the screen was a single message from Frank that gave you tremendous reassurance:

We're here.

You bit your lip, nodding slowly. One last breath for courage and you stood up, opening the door of the bathroom. Without anyone noticing, you grabbed your hoodie and stepped outside into the cool of the night.

The sudden chill brought you unparalleled comfort, biting your cheeks hot with frustration and embarrassment. Perhaps the night would heal you, that its cool caress would apply its balm of softness to all that pressure and relieve you of your tension.

You turned your key ring to find the one for the gate a little further on, trying to walk and not sprint to it. Inserting the key almost frantically but controlling your excitement and relief at their presence, you opened the game.

And there they were, smiling at you.

"Evening sweetheart," Frank smiled when he saw you.

"Sorry we took so long," Matt apologised, pressing his lips together.

You looked behind you to make sure no one had followed you outside, closing the gate slightly so that you wouldn't be seen. You knew that even from here, your group of three could be seen as a pile of meat around which the vultures would circle, and you didn't want to risk being their next meal.

You hugged them both, relieved to have them close to you, and the suddenness and desperation in your gesture almost seemed to surprise them. They hugged you back, kissing your temple.

"Your cheeks are warm," Frank chuckled, pressing his face harder against yours, making you giggle.

"Is everything okay?" asked Matt, stroking your hair, "you're all tense."

Of course, Matt noticing every microscopic detail as usual, couldn't help but pick up on how stiff your body looked, and how the smell of stress covered your skin in the thinnest film. There was no point in lying to Matt, or pretending to divert the subject with Frank, so you sighed.

"Lots of noise, not much serenity," you replied, letting your head fall against the devil's chest.

You were trying to cherish all this a little more, because once you were back in the house, you and Matt wouldn't be able to touch each other again except perhaps to pass a plate across the table and let your fingers deliberately brush against each other.

They'd already been told by you what to expect, and even if they were prepared, they were sorry to find you like this.

"We won't stay here the whole night," Matt reassures as he wraps his arms around you, stroking your back. "Let's hope we get out of here before Frank goes so far as to take the silverware from the table and threaten anyone with the butter knife."

"You're ruining my fun, Red. Now I've got to find something more inventive," sighed the latter.

"Take the star at the top of the pine tree, it'll be sharp enough," you suggested, turning your head towards him, cheek still pressed against Matt's chest. 

"See that, that's Christmas spirit," smiled Frank.

You loosened your embrace, Matt gently kissing your lips. He savoured the moment, and so did you, because this kind of proximity with him wasn't going to happen again for several hours. 

"Ready?" asked Frank, letting his pointer finger form a hook to caress the skin of your cheek.

You looked at the lights further away from the house, hearing the music from here and already preparing in the second part of the night.

"Ready," you breathed in before reopening the gate and letting them through.

You felt your heart clench again, the unpleasant tingle of anxiety coursing through your veins in a fluid traffic that seemed impossible to dilute. You tried to breathe calmly, preparing yourself once again to face the suffocating interior of sounds, movements and remarks.

"Remember, if you need to take a break from all this and go outside, squeeze my hand three times, okay sweetheart ?" reminded Frank, placing his hand on the small of your back.

"Yeah," you swallowed, nodding softly as a tight little smile spread across your lips.

You'd agreed to pretend, in case things got desperate and you needed a break, that Frank was a smoker, and that you and Matt shared his ciggy break together.

All of this preparation had come from the fact your mother had passed an entire questioning about your boyfriend - or at least one of them - to prepare herself conventionally. You knew how she was, and such coaching with the guys was for the better.

Still, his hand on your back was reassuring, and made things easier to bear.

You opened the door, and everyone turned to you with a big "Ah" of satisfaction. Introductions were made as both took off their jackets. Frank remained friendly but guarded - as usual, typical Frank - and Matt seemed to bloom in this social environment like a freshly blossomed flower.

It didn't take long for most of your family to decide that they loved Matt. His well-timed humour, his natural charm, his eloquence, everything about him made him a man to be admired.

"Isn't there any way he could be your boyfriend instead?" said an aunt, approaching you as Matt and Frank continued to be introduced.

"He's way out of her league," sneered another, "they both are, actually."

You pressed your lips together, blowing falsely from your nose to feign amusement. You knew Matt could hear every little jab at you tonight, and if he was feeling any frustration, he was hiding it perfectly.

"Where did you get them? I want one too," said the first, making the other laugh.

"Might get the lawyer's phone number," she replied.

"Yours is very fine too," remarked the other, "how'd you manage to get him ?"

They both said these sentences as if their own husbands weren't in the room, and as if the possibility of you being in a relationship with one of them was a miracle, or just a huge stroke of luck.

"Through work," you replied mechanically and through clenched teeth before moving into the kitchen to help with the dishes.

You knew these sorts of remarks were to be brought up, on how you’d managed to surround yourself so well. Matt and Frank had long wondered how your confidence in yourself was so low, but maybe tonight would’ve been the perfect example as to why it was the case.

The transition to the table was almost seamless. Everyone sat down, the seating order meticulously adapted for everyone. Fortunately, you found yourself between Frank and Matt. You were inwardly grateful for the choice of decorations when you realised that the tablecloth was quite long, and that the reassuring hand Matt had just put on your thigh wouldn't be noticeable.

You breathed softly, the warmth of his hand anchoring you better in all of this and giving you something to focus on that was sweeter than any mean remarks.

Of course, with every new person around the table comes an interrogation to get to know them. Questions of all kinds followed for the boys, about their work, their activities, your aunts of course looking for answers as to how you and Frank had ended up together.

You'd worked it out and decided that Matt had introduced you to Frank and that, through your shared tastes in literature and other things, you'd ended up bonding.

"If books are the new way to getting to a man I've got some reading to do," joked one of the aunts, making the table laugh unanimously, "never thought you'd manage anything of the sort."

The pique directed at you made you feel as if you were swallowing a large ice cube with difficulty, but you covered your discomfort with an expert fake smile. Masking all that discomfort since the start of the evening was beginning to prove complicated, but you weren't going to use the smoking-break Joker just yet.

You could see in the corners of your eyes how Matt was wearing a stiff smile, and how Frank's jaw was tense. Gently reaching under the table, you took both their hands, turning to Frank with another smile that this time wasn't imbued with the polite mask you wore, but with sincerity.

"Let's just say I was lucky " to have found two such extraordinary people who fill my life with love on a daily basis, would you have finished.

You squeezed their hands, drawing small circles on their skins as they both smiled.

The starter was over, the main course continued as your stomach was refusing to let you eat anything, and the whole thing brought together discussions that made you uncomfortable to say the least. All sorts of unconscious or simply cruel racist, homophobic and even transphobic remarks were placed on the table. 

You remained silent, not speaking particularly. You had no desire to take part in this kind of discussion, given how horrible the venom on each other's tongues was. You just hoped it would all be over soon, looking forward to going home with Frank and Matt.

The cousins were chatting away like fascists, one talking about Napoleon, and the old days being the best, while talking about the questionable politicians he was listening to on the radio. 

The cheese arrived, and then came the little break just before dessert. They put on a film for the children, so that the adults could have a quiet chat without all the heckling.

Hearing the parents' arse jokes, you'd think they'd be fucking each other on the table if they thought it was funny. You could very well let your own sassy tongue out, say that if this aunt isn't listening to what's being said already it's because she's working out her next gossip, but you have to forgive her because she wouldn't be like this if her husband wasn't cheating on her, or maybe he's cheating on her because she's like this. 

To tell the uncles that they're less likely to die from terrorism than from alcoholism, to tell one aunt to strap the kids up tight because her husband is going to be driving as if he had an autonomous car. And that you would’ve liked to finish by saying that no matter the smiles, the village fete, all it took was a small difference for everyone to see the real faces.

But you said nothing, keeping to yourself those comments that would only serve to fuel their hatred. 

As Frank came up to grab another drink, your mother sat next to you on the sofa while the two boys came to be monopolised by aunts and uncles. A procession of rednecks near Frank discussing his familiarity with weapons and his military past, while the aunts were wiggling around Matt hoping to curry favour with the young lawyer.

"It's too hot in here," you murmured as you shifted a little from your mother, but she wasn't letting go and placed her head on your shoulder.

"But I want to be close to you," she said with a pout, the alcohol making her visibly affectionate.

You tensed, the desire to get away from it all running through your body, screaming under your skin. But there was nothing you could do, frozen there in the middle of it all, having to endure the situation as best you could.

The familial conversation drifted onto the subject of intellectuality, on the fact that your family was made up of nothing else, or at least for the most part. And you felt tiny, because they were generally right: they were all huge readers of the classics, who knew a lot about history, literature, philosophy and other human sciences. 

All these subjects were familiar to you, because you had had to learn them, to master them in the face of the global family demand for the cultivation of excellence.

Even though you were the ugly duckling of the family, that didn't stop you sharing this knowledge and they were all aware of it. You were able to inject the conversation with valid arguments and insights you'd learned on your own that were important to the topic, and whenever the occasion to say something wise came up that you grasped, they seemed more tolerable to you.

When the discussion turned to the descendants of a painter, you were asked to verify the accuracy of certain statements. So you looked it up on your phone, but barely half a minute later, your mother couldn't resist reprimanding you:

"What did I tell you on your phone? Not when we're with the family."

Irritation from all the previous events of the evening was beginning to press down on you, and it was with some irritation that you replied: 

"But I've been asked for some information."

Your voice was almost like that of a child defending themselves against someone calling them a liar, and this tone seemed to displease her when her gaze hardened.

"Don't talk to me like that, and put your phone away."

You bit the inside of your cheek so hard it felt like it was going to bleed, and said nothing as you put your phone back in your pocket while the conversation around you resumed.

You didn't meet Frank's gaze, nor did you turn to Matt, because you knew that this simple gesture would show weakness and a cry for help. However, you had made them swear not to interfere, and you remained silent for a while, trying to calm yourself down as you watched the fire ripple in the fireplace like an orange veil dancing in the wind while you fiddled with your fingers.

The tic was automatic; Matt and Frank would have preferred to have taken your hand in theirs to prevent this torment. 

What irritated you most of all was the profound injustice of the whole evening. You wouldn’t say anything, and you’d be considered too silent so people would ask you questions, but once you opened your mouth they were not satisfied with your answers. You couldn’t take your own phone, when all the aunts had their own, texting to their friends and all. Children had the right to get away in another room and watch a movie, while you had to stick there doing nothing but listening to whatever was said.

You couldn’t wait for the night to come to an end.

It was time to store the presents everywhere and pretend to the children that Santa had stopped by while they were watching the movie. Everything was placed in colourful piles, and when the children were called, they ran down the stairs and began the frantic tearing of gift wrap to an orchestra of shrieks and shredding.

All the accumulated sounds made you grit your teeth, tightening your throat and making you want to cry. You could feel the limit coming, and you needed a break to prevent you from imploding.

This time you took Frank's hand and squeezed it three times. He turned to you immediately, stroking your cheek before telling Matt. As quickly as they could without looking rushed, they put on their jackets and went out after you.

The night air calmed some part of you instantly, the contrast between all the hectic ambiance inside and the calmness of the outside felt like two extreme opposite worlds living by the only separation of a door.

To make sure that even from the outside there would be no doubt about this cover, Frank had to play along by taking out a cigarette and lighting it. He seemed irritated, and the idea of that Joker card almost seemed to play a real asset in all this to calm him down.

"How the fuck do they sleep at night?" he grumbles as he puffs out his first drag, "it's like they take every opportunity they get to pull you down."

"It's alright, let it slide." you sigh, crossing your arms over your chest.

"No it's not," he continues, "I can't believe you managed to handle their company for all these years."

"Didn't have much of a choice," you breathe.

"I know you said it was bad, I just didn't imagine it was constantly so," Matt confirmed.

"If I go back there I might actually punch them in the face," Frank grumbles before taking another drag on the cigarette.

"All that's left is the presents from the adults, then the Yule log, and then we'll be off, okay?" reassured Matt, placing his hand gently on your shoulder.

The touch of his hand brought a comforting warmth, and his words managed to reassure you. You looked at them both, thinking about how it would’ve been without them : unbearable, definitely. You had barely been able to handle it before they came, but now that they were here, you felt safe, like half of the poison that was thrown at you was not as effective.

They had changed you, made you feel loved, cherished, proud. They had been trying to break these patterns, the self depreciation, the self sabotage, the lack of self confidence. They were helping you build yourself back up from the ruins everyone else had left, and you were the most grateful to the universe to had brought them in your life.

"Thank you both, for being here," you admitted, your voice almost cracking, the coolness of the night giving you a feeling of security that was enough to relax your knotted throat.

They turned towards you, their faces softening. They knew what you were going through, what you were enduring for the night, and how complicated and unpleasant it must have been until they arrived. 

Frank took you in his arms, the smell of tobacco already permeating his clothes. Matt must not have been enjoying it at all, smelling that darkly sugary, smoky smell all around him, but whatever personal discomfort he was experiencing he didn't let it show. 

"It's the least we can do, beautiful," he replied, stroking your back.

"We just wish we could shut their mouths," Matt agreed, holding back from participating in the embrace as you’d instructed him.

"And stop this whole group of women from praising you?" sneered Frank, which made you smile.

Matt's nose scrunched up and his bottom lip curled in disgust at the remark.

"One of them wanted to feed me appetisers, and another asked me about being blind and whether I'd mind being in a relationship with someone whose looks I can't see." he said with a sigh.

"And then?" asked Frank curiously as you both turned to face the lawyer.

"I told her that I didn't need to see to know who was good-looking, and that if I chose my relationships purely on looks, I wouldn't know true friendship or love."

"All those poetic words must have pleased her," Frank punctuated with a whistle.

"Not until I told her my grandmother wore the same perfume as her."

You and Frank both laughed softly, truly impressed at how Matt was handling all this flirting and cringe from several women altogether. 

But this calm moment had to have an end, as the cigarette grew smaller and smaller by the minute. Frank broke away from your embrace to finish it and stubbed it out on the wall.

This little outing had done you a world of good. The cool night air had refreshed you, its delicate silence giving you a break from all the noise and the terrible comments from your family all the while Frank and Matt allowed you this break from constant barbs.

You returned again inside, the end of the opening of presents for the children welcoming you. And so the opening of those for the adults began, all the parcels being stored on the table in more chic and sober wrappings. The grandparents started, Frank standing behind you with one hand on your shoulder and the other holding his glass of champagne.

One by one, they all opened their presents, until it was your turn. Embarrassment gripped your body as all eyes were on you, and you dreaded the opening simply by being watched with boredom mixed with curiosity - to see how you might react and make the slightest faux pas.

You went about it slowly, wishing to unpack properly and not act like a barbarian tearing everything apart at once. Your aunt beside you imitated a yawn at the fact that you were making them wait, and everyone laughed, a tense little smile nailed to your cheeks.

What you got in the end wasn't too bad, nor too far from what you could appreciate, surprisingly. Of course, you had to force yourself to smile at most of the useless gifts that gave you absolutely no pleasure, but you thanked everyone, and the presentation of gifts moved on to the next ones.

"Didn't you get her anything?" your mother asked the boys.

"Her presents are at my place," Frank informed her.

The sentence made your heart spike up, a sudden warmth colouring your chest in pink softness as the sparkles of it brought the tingling sensation of tears at the corners of your eyes. Presents, they had gotten you presents. 

You were not going to cry, of course not, but the lump formed in your throat gave you enough of a hard time that you had to grab your drink and sip on it.

"Speaking of your place, have you looked at the traffic to get home?" questioned Matt, "I don't think I want to take too long."

"I'll have a look," he said, taking his hand off your shoulder to pick up his phone.

You wondered if Matt had had enough, if his own senses had been overwhelmed by all of this and he was pondering on going home. But then realised what they were doing : feigning traffic disruption in order to get home early and save yourself a lot of awful time.

"I think we're going to have to go," Frank nodded as he put his phone away. "Sweetheart? Ready?" he asked, bending over so that his chest pressed against your back.

"Yes," you said as you took a big breath and stood up, saying goodbye to the whole family.

You dreaded the hugs, the kisses on the cheeks or simply the fact of pressing them together and imitating the sound of what should have been a fake smooch, but with a surge of tiredness you objected to this using the excuse of " time is running out".

In no time at all, Matt and Frank had gathered up all your things and were carrying them, heading for the entrance hall to collect theirs.

In less time than it takes to say it, you were finally outside, walking up to the gate. You felt as if your lungs were being squeezed as you went along, almost expecting to feel a rope being pulled tight inside you to tie you to the house, for someone to come out and catch you or whatever. You felt almost like a gnat trying to escape from the spider's web in which it had been stuck a little too long.

You stuck the key in the lock of the gate, turned it hastily, then opened it to let them go with you, closing the big opaque metal door with that step. The pressure hadn't gone away from your body yet, every limb feeling like it was made of thick, rough foam where multiple needles had pierced you in the many crevices they'd already left and were digging even deeper. 

You looked for the car in the hope of getting to it as quickly as possible, but you let out a little squeal of surprise when your feet flew off the ground as Frank swept you up in his arms like a princess.

"Ain't no way you're gonna walk, you've had enough exhaustion for the night," he said, tightening his grip on your back and the back of your knees.

"But-" you began reflexively, although the idea of giving up this position didn't bring you any comfort.

"Ah ah," he stopped, "don't wanna hear about it." If he had his two hands free and was being childish, he would have put them over his ears, singing la la la and pretending not to hear anything.

But his hands were firmly under you, giving you all the security you could have dreamed of and the beginnings of a comfort that would last all evening until you'd sleep.

"Circus night is over," Matt huffed, taking a deep breath, "I think I've heard enough nonsense for one year."

"Lucky for you, next one's less than a week away," sneered Frank.

"I'd rather lose a second sense than inflict this on myself and our angel a second time," the demon replied as he grabbed the car keys from Frank's pocket and opened it.

He opened one of the rear doors, letting Frank gently place you in and strap you in place, placing a kiss on your forehead as he stepped aside to let Matt pass and place the few bags in the boot.

Matt sat down beside you, and you let your head fall on his shoulder. You felt the tingles of anxiety under your skin lodge in your legs and squeeze your chest, the rush to get out of here weighing heavily on your head.

Frank sat in the front seat, turning the car key and making it purr, then drove off. 

As the car rounded the corner, all the tension began to dissipate and you let the breath you'd been holding in escape from your chest. Your whole body felt heavy, your hands gloved with marble, your legs booted with lead and your head stuffed with cotton.

You felt the softness of Matt's lips as he placed a kiss on your forehead, his hand coming to rest on your thigh as you hummed under the sweetness of his comfort.

"It's all over now," he said, resting his chin on your head, "we're going to take care of you."

You snuggle up to him, your hand coming to rest on his as you breathe softly. Your fingers drew soft, formless patterns on the back of his hand, fighting the fatigue that had fallen on you like an anvil.

The moment was sweet, Matt's warmth through his clothes spreading close to you as you turned his hand onto his back to gently trace the lines from his palm up to his callused fingers. 

"I'd have to get rid of some of them," grunted Frank, who clearly hadn't yet calmed his frustration, "I'm sure they'd be much better off in an asylum."

"It's an insane asylum, not an asshole asylum," Matt remarked, "you'd have to build asshole asylums but... you can imagine the size of the buildings."

"Yeah, still, maybe I should have burnt my cigarette on one of their cars."

"What a nice Christmas present," chuckled Matt.

"I can be generous sometimes," confirmed Frank.

"Especially when you threaten people," you agreed.

"A pittance," Matt snickered, "Is that one of my sweaters by the way ?

"Yes," you sigh, "I'll have you know it's been criticised tonight."

"Really? By whom."

"I'll let you guess."

"A bit bold coming from someone dressed like Norman Bates who dresses like his mother," Frank grumbled.

You laughed softly, a sort of little venting session taking place in the car like a debriefing following a bizarre situation.

"With all those women around, Red's charm knows no bounds," laughed Frank, "you've caught the eye of one in particular it seems."

"My aunt? She's suffering from too much oestrogen. If you're interested, I can put you in touch," you grinned.

" I'd rather sleep on cotton sheets." grunts Matt as his hand grabs your thigh and squeezes a little tighter, letting a small chirp of amusement escape from between your lips.

The ride continued, and your stomach went all hollow, grumbling with displeasure at the emptiness you'd left it.

"Didn't eat much, did you ?" asked Matt softly.

"Barely touched her plate," confirmed Frank at the front.

"Didn't feel like it," you murmured.

"Is there anything you'd like when you get home?" proposed the demon, interlacing his fingers with yours.

"Something sweet," you hummed, adjusting your chin to rest it on his shoulder.

"Anything else?"

"Two pairs of arms around me," you smiled.

They both grinned, and the ride went by in a flash. You untied yourself once you'd arrived, stretching slightly as you shifted to open the door beside you, but Matt's hand from your thigh came to grab your hip and pull you back to him in a gesture that seemed immensely easy.

You turned to face him, confused for a moment, as he kissed your cheek.

"No walking, remember?" he smiled as Frank opened his car door to come towards yours.

You sigh, shaking your head slightly as you roll your eyes. They were overdoing it, but you weren't going to stop them. 

"Come here princess," Frank said as he pulled your hips towards him to take you in his arms again.

You wrapped your hands around the back of his nape, nestling your face in his neck and smelling his subtle cologne on his warm skin.

Matt took the bags and went ahead to open the door for you. The familiar smell of your real home seemed to wash all your worries from your body as you took a simple breath.

The bags were deposited in the hallway, Frank walking over to the sofa to set you down.

"Stay right there and don't move," he informed, hands on either side of you as he kissed you softly.

"What happens if I move ?" you asked, placing one of your hands on his arms.

"I'll tie you up like a pretty present," he chuckled as he kissed you again, "the most perfect present we'd ever have."

"Is that a threat or a promise?" you teased, your foreheads pressed together.

"It's a statement," he concluded.

He straightened up, and you were already missing his presence near you, but you respected his request - or rather his order - and remained seated on the sofa. Your head fell back, your body moulding itself to the shape of the couch under the effect of the evening's emotional turmoil. The tension drained away more and more, relaxing your tired muscles and making you yawn. 

It wasn't long before Matt and Frank returned with more casual outfits and packages in their hands. You straightened up, bending your knees on the sofa about to get up, but remembering the fact that walking wasn't a possibility, you explained: 

"I've got some for you too, am I allowed to go and get them?"

"For us?" said a surprised Frank, pointing at himself as if there was some mistake.

"You mean the packages under the first step of the stairs?" questioned Matt, "I thought those were packages you forgot about for the others."

"No, these are for you," you confirmed as you sat back down on your knees on the sofa.

They stood like that, one blinking repeatedly while the other kept his lips parted.

"You really didn't have to-" Matt began, but you stopped him immediately.

"Tsk tsk, if I don't have the right to stand up, you don't have the right to stop me from giving you presents."

"But-" resumed Frank.

"Ah ah," you smiled in the same tone he'd given you earlier, "don't wanna hear about it."

He parted his lips in a smile but said nothing as Matt laughed softly to the side. They approached you, Frank placing the packages on the coffee table as Matt turned away.

"I'll get them," he eventually says, heading for the top step, cracking it open and pulling out three packages to take back to the coffee table.

"The medium one is for you," you say, pushing the first one towards Frank, "and the big and small one are for you," the two boxes sliding across the smooth table towards Matt.

The packets seemed a particularly complex conundrum to them, but you urged them to open their presents.

Matt opened his and discovered a 7kg weighted blanket and an anti-stress ring that could be twirled on his finger.

"I know you sometimes ask me or Frank to lie on top of you because the weight makes you feel better, so I got you this, which should help if neither of us is ever there to give you what you want. As for the ring, I know that times at the Court can be stressful, so I thought it might help you find a point of anchorage." 

Matt seemed at a loss for words, taking the duvet between his fingers and touching the silk sheet you'd wrapped it in. Putting the ring on his index finger, which fit perfectly, he smiled to himself.

As for Frank, he removed the wrapping and his lips parted.

"I've been looking for these for months," he said, looking at the few books he'd been talking about over and over again. "How did you... ?"

You'd scoured countless bookshops, searched book repositories, researched the clearance of certain titles by libraries to find these books that had all but disappeared very quickly while the work was being republished and retranslated.

"A good girlfriend never reveals her secrets," you smiled.

The two of them placed their gifts on the table and came to embrace you, nestling their faces in the crooks of your neck. They held you close, gently kissing your skin between hushed "thank you's", dotting your neck and face with soft pecks.

"What did we do to deserve you," Frank murmured, pulling back slightly.

"I could ask the same about you both," you smiled, running your fingers through their hair.

They kissed you again, then handed you their own gift. You opened it, and it was something you'd talked about several times before, something that was very close to your heart and that they'd decided to give you. This time it was your turn to hug them, and they laughed as you showered their faces with kisses.

"What do you say to a nice bath, and then some dessert before bed?" offered Matt.

"I think that's the best idea of the evening," you confirmed, caressing his cheek and kissing his nose.

Without further ado, Frank took you in his arms like a koala, letting your legs cross behind him as you pressed your cheek against his shoulder. He led you and Matt into the bathroom, the devil bending over the tub to prepare the bath.

Frank lifted you slightly and sat you down on the wash basin counter, letting his hands fall on both your thighs and stroking them gently.

"As much as I love your makeup, we're gonna have to remove it sweetheart", he explained, kissing your cheek.

So mechanically, you grabbed your make-up remover, ready to start the process. But Frank stopped you in your tracks, gently taking the bottle in one hand and a cotton pad in the other.

He poured a small amount onto the white disc, dosing as you did regularly.

"Close your pretty eyes for me," he murmured, taking your chin between his fingers and starting to remove your make-up.

Frank had this charming habit, in the evenings when you were getting ready for bed and he wasn't out playing vigilante, of watching you remove your make-up. He knew a lot about your day by the way you went about it: slow and thoughtful was the result of a good day, faster and more jerky obviously reflected one full of frustration, and sometimes when your movements were slow and your eyes half-closed, it generally meant that the day had been very, very long.

He concentrated, pressing tenderly against your skin as he removed iridescent, matte and mascara from your eyelids, occasionally pausing to kiss your lips, making you smile and giggle softly with each peck.

You almost wanted to put lipstick on his lips and let him kiss your whole face until the red of your cheeks was indistinguishable from the colour of the lipstick.

He asked you to look up this time to clear away the mascara smears and the black marks left in their path. He was doing this with the utmost precision, and this personal attention sent tickles all the way to the back of your skull.

"Look at me?" he asked and you complied, a smirk forming on his lips. "The prettiest girl."

He came over and placed a strand of hair behind your ear before stepping aside to throw away the little cotton disc.

"I'm gonna go and check what snacks we have, Red? I'll leave you my favourite part, but only because it's christmas alright?" he informed before kissing the tip of your nose one last time and stepping out of the bathroom.

Matt, so far checking the temperature of the bath water to make sure it was correct, shook off his damp fingers and wiped them on a towel before standing up and moving between your legs.

"I'll have you stand up just for a bit," he cautioned, taking your hands and pulling you slightly towards him to get you to your feet. "Arms up."

At his request, you raised your arms. His hands pinched the bottom of your hoodie and pulled it up your body. He laid it to one side, continuing with your t-shirt, his fingers still warm from the water sliding delicately against your skin.

"So that's Frank's favourite part?" you smiled, "undressing me?

"I have to say it is," he stated as he unbuttoned your trousers and panties, sliding them to the floor where you lifted your feet to get out of them.

"And what's your favourite part?" you asked as he took off your socks and raised up to your level.

"The one that's about to happen."

He guided you to the bath and let you slide in gently. The temperature was perfect, just as you liked it, and you let out a moan of ease from between your lips until most of your body was submerged in the bath.

Matt took a stool from the bathroom and placed it beside you, taking a cup at the same time to pour water over your hair. He applied himself with great care, taking his time to make sure no drops got into your eyes.

Your muscles relaxed naturally with the heat, finally eradicating the tension in your body once and for all.

You felt Matt's fingers dip into the bath water, sliding up from the skin of your thigh and gently up your body, tracing your silhouette under the water.

"You're beautiful," he whispers as his wet fingers rose from the water to caress your cheek.

"How could you know?" you asked softly, watching as he stared into the emptiness.

"My hands don't lie to me, and I know the beauty of the mind at first sight of the heart" he smiled as he took your bottle of shampoo, pouring some into his palm before massaging your head.

To help him, you straightened up, pivoting slightly to get your back to him. His fingers snaked through your hair, massaging gently and lathering everything up slowly. He worked the back of your neck, muscles tense, letting your head go with the movement of his hands.

With your neck now leaning back, Matt smiled gently before kissing your forehead.

"That's my favourite part," he confirmed, resuming the massage.

You let your eyes close, surrendering to the gentleness of the moment and Matt's touch. He was pressing, caressing, painting with his fingers as if he were holding the most beautiful and delicate material in his hands. 

Too soon for your liking - because you would have preferred this moment to have no end - he rinsed your hair, letting the white mousse spread over your shoulders and applying it lightly to your skin. He took the sponge, soaking it in shower gel before squeezing it into a foam so that he could spread the bubbly cloud over your skin.

He took one of your arms, raising it so that he could get it straight and soap you up properly, and he kissed the length of your skin before the softness of his kisses was erased by the little soap bubbles that the sponge left in its wake. He did the same for your second arm, and your leg, and the second after that, covering your whole body with kisses and softness.

At first you thought it was unfair, because no sooner had he placed a kiss on your skin than he wiped it away with white foam. But you were soon comforted by the idea that these weren't kisses being chased away, but kisses being kept, kisses that seeped under your skin and brought you all the warmth that the bath was beginning to no longer contain.

Before the water got too cold, he gently rinsed you off and got you out of the tub, wrapping you in your bathrobe.

Frank came back into the bathroom at last, bringing clean, more comfortable clothes in his hands. They both took their time drying your hair and dressing you, whispering sweet nothings to you as they kissed your cheeks and temples.

Each kiss washed away the stress you'd been feeling, replacing bitterness with sweetness, and you relished every moment of it.

Once again they carried you in their arms to the sofa, where Frank had placed a plethora of foodstuffs of all kinds on the table, snacks and other sweet products that you might have wanted at the time.

You watched several episodes of a series that you'd been watching together lately, commenting on it and falsely - or actually - taking offence at the particularly stupid choices made by the main characters.

You didn't need any more than that. All the love in the world was with them.

They had taught you how one hand changes when you put it on top of another, that another world is possible but is present in this one, that there is always a dream asleep.

They were standing on your eyelids, and their hair was in yours, they were engulfed in your shadow. Their eyes were always open, they wouldn't let you sleep, their kisses in the light made the sun evaporate.

Back pressed against the chest of one, face hidden in the nape of the other's neck, tonight you fell asleep, fulfilled, safe and loved.

[illusioncanthurtme--art]

GET WATERCOLORED, BITCH!!!!

I've been tweaking my design for our lovely Master Kohga. Some rambling under the cut: (and update on your requests)

First of all, I want to say that I tried watercoloring on top of a pencil drawing a few months ago and it was a DISASTER (it was a drawing of wolfie from shrek. I took a scan beforehand but oof it was bad), the pencil was smudging all over the place. This time I used spray fixative and I'm super happy with the results!! Coloring isn't my metier at all, and I think I'm more of a quantity over quality type person, so I don't like spending so much time on one drawing. But I used to watercolor when I was a young teen, and this was a fun throwback to those times.

Also, some changes to his design! I gave him a dr. robotnik ass looking moustache, because he is an evil yet silly viddy game man and he deserves one like all the greats. His beard is a little more believable looking now too. Also changed the number of earrings on one ear, because I dislike symmetry. I wanted him to have some moles, so he's got some in the shape of a Y now. Kind of a stretch but, ya know, I'm trying.

I WANT to give him some cool traditional looking tattoos, but I don't want them to cover large portions of his body. I'm gonna have to figure that one out later.

ALSO, THANK YOU SO MUCH TO ALL THE PEOPLE WHO GAVE ME KOHGA REQUESTS!!!!

I'm so excited to start those, but commissions have been bogging me down like crazy. I really want to draw more of him, but I don't want to make it a job and feel obliged to draw them all immediately. I'll work on your requests little by little for fun when I have time. Some of them are making me chuckle, ngl.

Thanks for being so nice and sending me affirming messages too! I wasn't expecting people to resonate so much with how I'm drawing him, but I'm really happy for it. 💖

[tremendouskoalachild]

so those Marko Manev posters

first of all, pretty

second of all, will the eclipse pattern continue? would that symbolize things getting better for our characters? because for Osha and Sol both I doubt that's where we're going. is it just going to stay eclipsed? that would be funny to me, ngl

will we get another with just the trio, this time Mae in the center?

also, lol at the pattern of the Stranger slowly getting closer before taking center stage

also also i think the four tree stumps instead of three like in the show might be just for symmetry but. what if four dead jedi symbolism

also also also i really like the choosing between two sides theme especially the last two have going. Osha rejects Mae and unintentionally ends up with the Stranger. the Stranger discards Mae and picks up Osha. poor Mae, nobody wants her

[darthlenaplant]

Ngl, I *am* thinking about the possible details on how Poirot and Hastings met in Belgium for the first time for real.

Also thinking about a Modern AU, lowkey kinda like the IDEA that was BBC Sherlock, but of course WITHOUT that particular set of absolute shitfest writing we got there.

May or may not have either both or just Poirot remember his life like in the series (but those things never happened in this world) and the grave mistake he made in losing Hastings and regretting the fact that it simply wasn't possible for him to marry him.

So it's basically half "reborn to try again" (i.e. live in a time where marriage between men is possible and accepted) half "simply modern version of the happenstances of the books. (ABSOLUTELY NO OVERARCHING ARCHNEMESIS BULLSHIT PLOT!!)

Poirot is of course still his chubby, prim and finicky and fashionable self, all about the symmetry, Hastings is still a tall af former British Soldier (I guess he was in the Irak war? Or Falkland? I need to do more research of course) with his car racing hobby (I do wanna see him Tokyo Drift lol), Japp of course our friendly Chief Inspektor and Miss Lemon... on one hand she WOULD be Poirots secretary, but I also think for a modern version she would be the most unusually (by that I mean impeccably) dressed computer whiz (yes, I also DO mean hacker) to ever exist in the 21st century lol. Yes absolutely including the victory curls and stuff.

Which would of course also bring me to how the hell would Poirot introduce Hastings to clients, you know? Like what: "I am Monsieur Poirot, private detective and this is my associate and husband, Captain Hastings" ?

Ya feel me? 🤣🤣🤣

[according2thelore]

time travel anon here - that is the best thing i've ever read in my entire life holy shit. thank you so much. good god. i'm going to treasure that ask forever.

now I'm thinking about LS Dean trying to make LS Sam jealous by being extra sweet to ES Sam (fails. LS sam thinks it's cute). or ES Sam trying to make ES Dean jealous by actively preferring LS dean (probably works). ugh god. or the deans fighting, like physically fighting like insane people. or or or. excuse me, i'll be happily living in this make believe world forever.

also I think in my head it will be 8 years of time travel, just so they can have 4-4-4 year age gaps.

hi, time travel anon!!!

omg...i'm blushing...tucking my hair behind my ear debby-ryan-style...

AHHHH you're so right!!!

LS!Dean would try to be extra sweet to ES!Sam, like maybe offering to show him the shooting range (and giving him some pointers up close, y'know, he's just being helpful, with his hand on sam's waist, and his broad chest to sam's back) and ES!Sam is all kinds of flusterd

LS!Sam just finds it kind of hilarious? he also thinks it's kind of hot how big LS!Dean is compared to his younger self, and how ES!Sam's breath shakes when dean comes in close, how sam's eyes fall to half-mast, unable to meet his eyes.

and LS!Dean keeps turning around like see? i can play this game too. and LS!Sam just finds it charming. he knows that one thing, even back then, made him happier than any-fucking-thing, and knows how out-of-his-mind thrilled ES!Sam must be that dean is giving him so much attention, listening to him ramble about how exciting the MOL library is.

honestly i have no idea which dean would initiate a dean-fight, but you are so! goddamn! right! it could literally be either--a second-too-long hand on the back of a neck, or even, fuck, ES!Dean can't take it anymore and yanks LS!Sam down for a kiss, frantic. it would be literally brutal, like a wild bear protecting her cubs (cub, though, just one in this case).

LS!Dean would completely kick ES!Dean's ass due to his increased experience, height, and size, but they would be spitting and furious and--as you said--insane. the sams barely manage to pry them apart.

because let's be perfectly clear: if anything can be said about A Dean, it's that he cannot share A Sam--ANY Sam--with anyone else. they'd be so sick with possession over them both ARGH!!!! sammy is dean's!!!! and they both have a weird power dynamic w each other about this.

(the sams wouldn't be much better: LS!Sam entertains LS!Dean's retaliatory fawning over ES!Sam, but it would grate on him after a few days. the second dean turns around, sam is staring at his younger self with this cold, empty look that makes ES!Sam shiver bc how the fuck is he going to turn into that thing?)

ngl anon i had to write this out on a piece of paper but you're right! If ES!Sam is 23, ES!Dean is 27, LS!Sam is 31, and LS!Dean is 35!

(lord above, can you imagine a 35 y/o dean and a 23 y/o sam????)

i think personally i would want ES!Dean and LS!Sam to have more of an age-gap bc LS!Sam is a Brick Wall, and i think 26 y/o dean would pass out if he got to see 36 yo sam. but this dynamic is quite good and i love the symmetry! i also think it would probably make the most sense, for them to be 4-4-4-4.

thank you for this ask and for freaking out about ES/LS Sam & Dean with me! <3 <3 <3

i can't take it!!!!! this AU is so FUN!!!!!!!!

-lizzy :)

[svtskneecaps]

ngl at this point i feel like the admin team should just be like "ok, meta rule, don't use the damn wand of symmetry for anything but builds" bc damn. this will have an effect on the trout population (badboyhalo's coffee intake)

[yeniihuenii]

Hihi!! Hope ur OC building is going well!! 8 and 16 for the artist ask game? :)

8. aside from hands, it's front-view faces. i don't use symmetry tool for it unless they're just standing like 🧍‍♂️ so whenever i flip the canvas i go ohhh my goddddd it looks so wonky, then i draw on the flipped canvas to correct it, flip again, n so on until it looks good to me. liquify tool is also my best friend for this.

16. ngl the secret way to motivation is... have a blorbo. you have no idea how much power they bring out of your hands. currently it's jiyan so whenever i had to study art or practice smth i just draw him so it doesn't get boring. powering thru all these comms so at the end of the day i get to draw jiyan :3

[bereft-of-frogs]

last minute 'night of the fire' theory very very long post~

Ngl I'm kind of hoping for 100% flashback to mirror episode 3, partially because I love symmetry and partially because I've been waiting SO LONG for this flashback, I want ALL OF IT. Maybe with a small bridge at the end. Cutting back and forth I think would be too much.

I'm leaning towards the Jedi coming to Brendok either on a completely unrelated mission to the twins or utterly by accident. The leaker that predicted the nude scene in episode 6 (so I now trust them completely lol), said they think the reason the Jedi are dispatched to Brendok 1) might cause a lore complaint 2) connects to TPM and 3) made Sol remind them of Qui-Gon. I can't quite figure out the lore complaint, and the political subplots of TPM don't make sense (nothing about trade routes or taxation fits for why they'd be sent to the seemingly abandoned - except for the coven - Brendok) so I'm not sure about that, but I'm wondering if it follows TPM's plot of being on the way back to Coruscant from a mission of some kind and somehow being sidetracked? Or they're just assigned there to check up on the coven or they're investigating something, or searching for something, but I don't think it initially has anything to do with the twins BECAUSE:

then yeah, not unlike Qui-Gon in TPM who meets Anakin and is like 'nice, side quest' when they land on Tatooine, Sol just happens upon the girls in the forest and accepts this new padawan acquisition side quest. This could also explain why Indara initially takes the lead in the first confrontation (she's higher ranked, in command of the primary operation), but then keeps deferring to Sol about what he saw and how he wants to proceed with the test.

I also believe that, like in episode 3, what we're going to see on screen is for the most part objective truth. Popular theory is that Osha had things literally altered in her memory, but if that was the case, and we were meant to be seeing things from her perspective exclusively, we wouldn't have all the scenes that she had no way of witnessing. I think we're meant more to wonder about what context we're missing, rather than the essential veracity what's being shown to the audience. (*with possibly Mae in her room, who does seem out of character, that could be a vision of some kind, I'll cop to that one)

like the scene where they hear something in the reactor room and Koril goes to look and doesn't find anything. We're just missing the context, which I think is Sol spying on them (or whoever is shown in the trailer scaling the exterior of the fortress, I'm inclined to say Sol though)

I do NOT think the Council or Vernestra ordered them to do anything. There's been a lot of 'the Council ordered them to wipe out the witches' theories floating around and that makes 0 sense, both because in the show a big thing is confessing to the Council, and because Headland keeps saying one of the issues being explored is how far-flung these missions get and the lack of oversight. They were operating independently, probably without good communications (BIG high republic theme, that the long-distance communications networks are shaky at best, and we saw last episode they're still not great), and had to make decisions in the field they independently chose to cover up. Vernestra also really does not seem to know anything about what happened besides their cover story.

I also still don't think it's a conscious, premeditated decision even among just the four to kill anyone. I think there's probably an argument over the girls, the coven overrides Aniseya and won't let Osha leave, the Jedi push back on that because Osha clearly really wants to leave, and things escalate from there. With the spell on the table...yeah I just don't see this as that simplistic a situation as 'the Jedi just decide to slaughter everyone because reasons'.

Already posted a longer version of this, but still feeling good about my theory that the coven casts a spell on Kelnacca (at the very least) to puppet him into the fight, Sol steps in to keep him from killing Torbin, and Indara attacks/kills Aniseya to break the spell (which possibly rebounds and takes out the rest of the coven). Would cover why the witches all seem to die at once, why Aniseya's body is separate, and why Mae accuses Indara of attacking the unarmed (she doesn't think of her mother's magic as a weapon, while in Indara's eyes, she's eliminating a threat to their lives)

I'm a little shakier on this one, but I'm inclined to speculate (ok I just would really, really like this) that they do a Parent Trap (Jedi and surviving witch/possible Sith each taking one twin) and one of the reasons they want to cover it up is because they know there is something left back on Brendok for Osha (counter to Sol's sus line 'there's nothing back there'), but they want to make the decision easier for her or they've specifically cut a deal to each keep one twin and stay out of each other's way. (Could explain Indara's 'this isn't a road you want to go down' if they'd agreed to all stay separated...but also that was probably just a Matrix reference lol...)

That would also be a reason they don't want the Council to know. Making deals with the Sith (or any dark side group) and leaving an innocent child with them? That would be BAD, especially given how Vernestra reacted to the revelation Mae was still alive. Killing a dark-side coven that was threatening them? Yes also bad. But is it 'hide from the Council for 16 years while wracked with guilt' bad? Especially because the Jedi aren't particularly into punitive justice, it's not like they're going to be executed or something. They all (minus Sol) more or less exile themselves anyways. I can't quite figure why they keep this secret while they're so haunted. There has to be another layer to it, possibly something to protect Osha. (Sith keep making deals in this series...was this another one? Though the Jedi probably would not know they were Sith.) (Ok that last part was really just spitballing.)

I'm so looking forward to finally finding out but I am going to miss the mystery! I guess there will be a few things remaining to guess about the finale, but 'what happened the night of the fire' has really been the core mystery for me and I'm a little sad there will be no more theorizing. And I have to wait until Autumn for the next High Republic book???? Tragic.

I guess we'll all find out in a few hours. I'm gonna go see MaXXXine first though.

*I am going back on one thing, ok so either the initial reason for the assignment to Brendok is what I thought above, initially unrelated to the twins and connecting to Qui-Gon's side quest vibes in TPM, or they ARE specifically sent for the girls because of the prophecy. That could raise a lore complaint among the kind who were freaking out about Anakin and the prophecy back when episode 3 aired, and that could connect Sol and Qui-Gon. But I don't know how much these writers know or care about Qui-Gon's prophecy side project, it hasn't been brought up at all in the series. And like the main critique you CAN'T make about the show is that it doesn't telegraph its twists. It seems unlikely that they'd toss a massive curve-ball in at the last act. Plus, it really doesn't seem like the Jedi know beforehand that the twins were created in any other way than uh, traditional methods (Indara asking where their father is). I'm not sure how I feel about this one, I don't love the prophecy thing in general, but that might close the 'lore complaint' hole I'm struggling with. It would just fall under a general 'I would have liked more foreshadowing' like a lot of theories I'm kind of meh on, but wouldn't totally ruin things for me. But honestly, given how much they freaked out about a characters noncanonical age...a lore complaint could really be anything at this point.

And all the interview material about a 'lack of oversight' still makes me lean more towards 'they got sent out to do something unrelated and decided to pivot without checking in first and got in over their heads' which is also fairly in-line with what we see happening with other High Republic Jedi, that they have to make more decisions in the field than the more centralized Prequel era.

I'd also prefer the latter theory, because then it would tie in thematically to The Phantom Menace AND a moment in the show from episode 4: when Osha touches the umbramoth and muses that she caused its death by disturbing. That might have just been to point out that she still follows some of her mother's ideas about the Thread (that everything is connected, and to pull on the Thread is to have consequences), but it could also be a nice bit of foreshadowing, that disturbing something, even in what initially appears to be a minor way, could have dire consequences. Not unlike in The Phantom Menace, when essentially an accident of fate, choosing Tatooine to land to repair the hyperdrive, which leads Qui-Gon to randomly stumble on Anakin, leads to the destruction of the Jedi Order and the rise of the Empire. And given that my other main theory (that Sol is going to be framed from the deaths and this is the solution to the 'how to kill a Jedi without a weapon' riddle, to destroy a Jedi's legacy) also mirrors the fate of the Order in the PT, I just think it would be really neat if this was also a microcosm of something that happens to the Order as a whole in the PT (a chance meeting leads to destruction).

But now we're fully in the realm of 'what I want'/'how I'd do it' vs 'what I think is likely to happen or supported by the text/leaks/supplementary interviews'. I just think it would be a neat thematic package and just be nice as the vindication of The Phantom Menace continues, as someone who has loved it since 1999. XD Likely? Maybe not, but I have put up with so much shit for 25 years for liking TPM, it would be nice for a new Star Wars thing to be that directly linked to it.

Ok I'm really going to go see MaXXXine now. Bye! Pray for me that Indara doesn't turn out to be an evil Sith lord, I really doubled down on that on Reddit, I do NOT want to make that apology tour...

[rpgbabe]

if plastic surgery has done anything good at least it has made me more aware and appreciative of human faces like ngl i get a lil emotional whenever i see a real human face nowadays i'm like omg :.) ur real ur here it's a miracle u were born! u live this is u no way how cool! and like i'm not trying to demonize ppl who get plastic surgery or say they're not 'real' i'm just saying sometimes it's nice to realize that what you like about a face isn't its perfect symmetry or societal 'beauty' it's just the fact that's it's them, it's just the way that person looks and that is inherently beautiful in itself

[doodlegraveyard]

So idk if my concept for ylfa is going to slap as hard as the Gerard one but my first thought was this extremely distorted wolf maw framing her

Ngl I kind of wanted to evoke something yogic here bc she has all that puberty horror angst going on but I’m also fine if that’s not like, beating anyone over the head

Idk I feel like there’s more elements I want to incorporate too.. not sure if this one will be as symmetry heavy as the Gerard one

[antsyandpantsy]

BRUH BRUH BRUH TMNT MUTANT MAYHEM IS LITERALLY THE BEST MOVIE RHAT EXISTS LIKE. EVER. PERIOD

BETTER THAN THE NEW SPIDERVERSE NGL

LIKE LIKE I CRIED MULTIPLE TIMES (dry cry but still…. it counted)

IT WAS SO JUST URGRGRHRR REAL AND GOOD AND THE CHARACTERS WERE JUST SO REALLLL

AND THE ARTSTYLE URGRGRHRHRHRHRHRHR O LOVE HOW EVERYTHING WAS NOT SYMMETRICAL LIKE AT ALL

EVERYTHING IS JUST SO GOOD GEBRNRN

also ngl happy for splinter and his girl… slayyy

be ready for fanart…. i will get frustrated but idc

[joshriku]

tag games dump yippee!

i fucking love talking let me just dump thoughts. tagged by @ray-gurl thank you thank you :3 i'll be tagging some people but feel free to snooze this off hehe @lucky-lesbian @rivertigo @cuddlingsun @highstrionics

top 5 no skip albums!

i actually don't know what my favorite albums off the top of my head so i'll consult with the spotify stats they never lie.

bad love by key: oh my god. literally no skips. the best album ever made. the day this dropped it made me a worse person and i still am. i have almost 1k streams on this. it's bad for me. i can't even tell a favorite song i love all them so much.

sam's town by the killers: i have 800+ plays on this. it's SO bad for me. i hope bling, why do i keep counting, and this river is wild all beat me up together i love them so bad throws up brandonf lowers was so fucking insane i love you the killers

black holes and revelations by muse: this is unfair bc muse is my favorite band in the entire fucking world but oh my god. even though i love absolution and origin of symmetry i do skip some songs but this one? i skip NOTHING. i sit through it. i feel EVERY SONG!

delight by baekhyun: um..actual masterpiece of a mini album AGAIN..thanks baekhyun for my life maybe? ghost-love again the songs that you are.

that being said the war by exo you mean THE album of all time no skips no skips for real even the songs i used to think were a skip aren't actually one i was just young and naive.

shinee's don't call me which is unfair bc all the shinee albums are entirely solid but don't call me has i really want you and body rhythm and kind sooooOOO..

next game yippeee thank you sm @shawoluvs :DD

☆ three ships ㅡ 3 ships i keep rotating in my brain would be um charles/erik (movies) charles/erik (comic) charles/erik (turtle/eagle). JK but it is cherik. also raven/irene :3 and lately it's my fucking little rarepair that not even the freaks on tumblr care for (lorna/monet). it's hell out here

☆ last song ㅡ eat your young by hozier :3

☆ last movie ㅡ i think it was spider-verse again LOL i love that fucking movie!!!!!!

☆ currently reading ㅡ i'm re-reading the book thief! it's been like 10 years since i read it and now i'm doing it in english lol

☆ currently watching ㅡ currently i'm watching the adventures of sherlock holmes 1984 but here and then i just watch arrested development over and over again.

☆ currently consuming ㅡ well right now i'm watching my friend play resident evil 4 so that's my current consumption. in general i'm just consuming comics and viddy games lol magneto.....

☆ craving ㅡ coke im ngl i just had dinner so LOL

yay! thanks again! :3

[theangryjikooker]

Can I say something controversial? Lol. Either way that tattoo convo is tricky imo. I’ve always said I believe what the members say and I think I’m more or less neutral regarding Jikook. By that I mean I can see them being a thing, but I also see a lot of conflicting stuff that can deny it. So sometimes I am more on the side 'hmmm something’s going on here' and sometimes I’m more ‘nah this kinda disapprove it’. Ngl the Army/Jm tattoo was something I was side eyeing a lot (let’s be honest most of fandom was, and not just Jikook shippers, or it wouldn’t be such a hot topic). But now I have to take Jungkook for his own words. And I’m sorry to say this, right now I feel like either that guy is a bit dumb because it has been quite obvious for everyone and their mothers that that J on top of the M on his ring finger was a suspicious placement as it could clearly be read as JM which, again, basically most of the fandom has been doing since he got it hence why that whole ridiculous theory about all of the members initials being part of it etc. So either he’s naive and a bit of a dummy, which I never thought of JK before, quite the contrary, or it means he’s a liar… Either way, the conclusion isn’t exactly one I like… I’m aware that I’m also being judgmental here but f*ck, sorry but if it does stand for his name, with this placement and all, it’s just a weird and dumb idea and does not make any sense to me, I don’t understand the logic, the symmetry and all? Like, what? On the other hand I surely don’t want to indulge in the idea that he lied and didn’t tell the whole truth because after all he could have just avoided the topic altogether and it sounds a bit too conspiracy-ish for me. Sorry for the rant, and for legal reasons I just want to emphasize: those are only my own personal thoughts on the issue. I know damn well it’s not my business after all.

Fair enough, and I can see why the debate continues on the issue. And as you so astutely pointed out, the conclusions don’t reflect well on him (one more than the other).

But I think I would trust his explanations by default, regardless of how it sounds because at least he’s addressing the topic. While JM has become naturally associated with Jimin, I think it’s just as plausible that he really wasn’t thinking about it too hard.

Although, in fairness, if we’re talking symmetry, it would’ve made sense for him to add the J on the pinky. Be that as it may, people with any sort of vision—and especially when it comes to permanent body art—can be a little quirky with their choices.

His tattoos don’t have any influence on my feelings towards Jikook, so it’s a moot point for me and not one I prioritize. At this point, I do feel more comfortable believing what he has to say. If his future actions/words create a dissonance with what he’s just said, it would be something to earmark, but it’s definitely not worth my energy when talking about Jikook.

[roseybombshell]

Could you tell me how attractive i am?

Are there any charm about my physical?

Thankyou❤️‍🔥

-K

I see that you are considered more than average attractive by other people, there's definite unique charm that you have. I think your eyes and facial symmetry is what attracts people. I think physically wise your legs also stand out. I hear calves? Also people love it when you wear skirts or dresses, especially with stockings. People are swept of their feet, like they think you're some kind of Goddess ngl.

[sunflowersrgay2]

how do ppl stylize their art???

PLEASE HOW DO THEY😭😭

like i know how to draw technically but to draw in a super funky way? def smth i nneed to work on :(

anyways this s my uber cool slimy snail alien woman waitress who works at the kuiper belt cafe she's rlly super cool iswearr

i put her through the symmetry filter and s kinda erotic ngl😭

🌸🌻

[lassieposting]

Sylvanas is my blorbo since I was what, 14? You have your favorite sexy undead war criminal with shadow powers and spooky red eyes who came back from the dead under traumatic and horrific circumstances, and I have mine. The symmetry is actually uncanny ngl

Oh so she's like. A blorbo-in-law? What series is this