#i need to learn to focus on one thing at a time

[tojisteddy]

After Care with Toji.

cw: no use of ‘y/n’ I use ‘[+]’, depicting after care (obviously), sub space, softdom!toji, fluff, dom/sub dynamics, treading the line of dd/lg (anyone could digest this), pet names (baby, doll, mama, ma), it’s LONG (idk how many words, I know know it’s LONG), toji is the sweetest bf ever.

Toji knew your limits. He knew just how much he could push and pull, throw you around until you were delirious. And he knew when you were fucked out of your mind, when you couldn’t think properly, you who’d only knew how to moan and spew gibberish.

He’d had half of his manhood in you, slowly sliding out of your gushing cunt as he looked down at your ravished body. He had hickies and bite marks from the top of your neck to your toes, both of juices on your stomach down an absolute mess coming from both of your thighs. He adored the sight of it.

He gently lifted your chin to look at him, your eyes kept wandering around, “no, no, look at me mama, focus.” His voice was gentle but it was a command.

It sorta sounded like God was calling you, maybe the pearly gates were opening. You wouldn’t have minded.

“Where’s yer head at? Tell me.” He always asked when you were blissed out.

You couldn’t verbally answer though. You reached for the back of his knee and tapped. Once, twice, three times. Toji’d known from the first tap alone you were calling it quits, he sat you up on the pillows. Running to go get a damp towel or two to clean you off.

“Such a good girl f’ me today Doll. Did so well.”

You hiccuped, rubbing your face that was once full of tears. “Really?”

Fuck, you were so damn cute like this.

“Course mama,” he lifted your hand and kissing your knuckles and intertwined your fingers, “Loved bein with you. You love it too?”

“Course papa.” You replied, using his same sweet tone.

The ends of his lips curved up, leaving a quick kiss at your temple, “Yer so sweet baby.”

You hadn’t even realized when Togi finished cleaning you up and had sat you up, legs dangling off the bed. You felt his fingers going into your hair.

“I-I can take care ‘f myself Toji.”

“Sure you can ma, but not right now. Let me help you.”

Togi was consistent with after care. It was something he learned how to do after being with so many women, to look out for them. Help them clean up, get them properly conscious, relaxed.

It was different with you, though.

Not that he wasn’t a fan of it already, but after pushing you to your limit, manhandling you every which way known to man, forcing you to take everything he had— he loved taking care of you. To the point that even when his dick K.O’ed you into darkness, you’d wake up at 3 am, the moonlight slithering it’s way into the your shades bedroom through the curtains. You’d sit all the way up, rubbing your tired eyes to find yourself completely wiped down, in one of Toji’s sweatshirts that hung off him just right but gave you sweater paws, a pair of underwear and a scarf to protect your hair because he knew you’d be grumbling all morning if you woke up with out.

He didn’t mind because he loved you.

You, who never asked too much of him or pushed him too hard. You, who felt every need to be independent, and he had to teach you to rely on him. You, who had every wall built up as far as the eye can see, worse than him— it was Toji who broke every one of them down, breaking his own in the process.

Yes, you were his play thing in the bedroom, a messy girl, his slut— but everywhere else, you were his baby, his gorgeous girl, cute future mamma to his kids, his lover.

Oh how he absolutely adored you.

“What’ddya wanna do, huh? Take a drive, eat, a bath?” He had put your curls up with one of the silk scrunchies you left lying around, leaving peppering kisses on the back of your neck.

“A bath.” You mumbled.

“Yeah?” He carefully rubbed your hips, thankfully they didn’t bruise this time.

“Go on, take a shower first ‘nd I’ll meet you there. You know what to do.”

With a pat to your ass, you were off. Legs wobbly from so much action.

Toji took care of everything. From changing the sheets, lighting candles, playing whatever music you wanted to hear to wind down, running the overly hot bath water with bubbles, just how you liked it. Whatever you wanted at the moment, Toji would give it to you. He loved how reliant you were when you were blissed out.

He liked it when you were completely relaxed, completely trusting of him with not a care in the world. Your only focus was him and being with him. He also loved being needed by you, how you were like two peas in a pod— both of you needing each other.

You pressed your head on the cool tile of the shower, closing your eyes as the soap and water ran down your body. It felt soooo nice against your skin.

��Oi, if yer tired sit on the hinoki!”

He snapped you out of whatever trance you were in with the wall, but you closed your eyes again with a scuff, “fuck off… ‘m not tired… You’re fuckin tired.”

Toji chuckled, setting both of your pajamas on the bathroom counter and then joining you under the hot water.

“You talkin shit?” An amused look on his face, leaning down closer to see you. As if he wasn’t already following your every move, just to make sure you were safe on your own.

“You get in my face… talkin- talkin ‘bout me… you’rrre the one yellin. Yoouu must be tired.” You slurred out, a grin forming on your face.

“ ‘S that right?”

“ ‘M always righ—”

You yelped out, Tojis devious fingers immediately going to your tummy, your arm pits— anywhere he knew he could get a bustle of laughter out of you. At the best and worst times, Toji was a literal tickle monster. He could get anything out of you that way.

“That’s— haha- you’re cheating! Ah! Hehee- you cheater!”

“Come on! I know yer tired, I’ll stop if you sit.”

“Oh, come awn!”

Without another word, Toji had you trapped between his body and the tile wall of the shower, tickling you so much it hurt.

You groaned, still giggling up a storm, slapping his large arms that held you, “Damn it! I give! I give!”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, his fingers were off of you body, taking your hand and guiding you to the hinoki.

“Doesn’t that feel better?”

“Whatever.”

It did feel better, your legs had been contorted in every in every way imaginable. Above his head, above your head, spread out from the Atlantic Ocean to the pacific. It felt good to take a rest.

Your eyes trailed up Toji’s body, skin riddled with scratch marks from his arms to his back, a few hickies on his neck, water cascading down his toned muscles, chiseled cheek bones—

“You starin mama?”

Toji hummed to himself, he loved when your eyes were on him. They were so pretty to him, especially when you were in the sun and he could really get a look at them. Like two Hershey kisses staring back at his green ones.

“Look so cute when you blush.”

“Shut up! You can’t even see it!”

He couldn’t, your brown skin didn’t let it peek through.

But it was in the way your eyes immediately went else where, unconsciously going to feel your heated cheeks or even trying to hide your face that had a small toothy smile— so fucking cute.

“Is the bath done?” Your eyes going to the tub a few feet away back to Toji who was washing his body with a wash cloth.

“Course, but you always fall asleep in there Doll ‘nd I told you I don’t like. It’s not safe.”

“I’ve never fallin asleep in there!”

His eyes met yours, eyebrow raised. Try it [+], I dare you.

“Maybe once.”

He shook his head, going back to washing his body. Unbelievable.

“More than once.” It came out more like a question even though you knew the answer to it.

Toji peered down at you, your eyes back at the tub. The steam was rising from the water, bubbles floating to and fro in the water. Slowly disappearing. Then your eyes went back to him. Big brown doe eyes, a tilt of your head and the cherry on top; a pout on your two tone lips. Not two big, not too small- just enough to push.

You were hell.

How could he say no when you were looking up at him like that.

“Fine- fuck baby, take your time!”

You slipped twice getting to the tub. Once because of how wet your foot was because of the water and another time because your legs felt exactly like the water under your foot. If it weren’t for the bath, you wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow. Now you would be able to, a little limp like you worked out (I mean you probably could consider what you did an hour ago a workout) but you’d be able to!

Toji was right there with you, towel in his lap just barely covering his manhood, sitting on the hinoki and washing his hair. Talking to you about anything from the lunch you packed him last week to the new sake he wanted to try. You loved it, Toji’s voice was like a melody, deep, scratchy because of all the cigarettes yet smooth— a shot of whiskey.

“Scoot.”

You moved forward so Toji could sit behind you, it was his spot whenever you took baths together. After care or not. He loved getting to hold you, letting you rest your head on his shoulder, leaving kisses at every place he left a hickey, maybe placing one or two new ones there.

Tonight was quiet, The Light In by Lana playing. You really were tired, unwilling to fight it but at peace— right where you needed to be. Toji was rubbing your arms, your thighs, your shoulders, just in the right places— he had some godly hands. Toji looked at you, who was completely slumped, your head resting against the tub, your long lashes slowly meeting each again and again.

“Ready for bed?”

“Mmm.”

You don’t know how, or when but by the time you’d realized— Toji had you in bed, teeth brushed, pajamas and scarf on and was rubbing the small of your back. Whispering how you did so well for him, how good you were, his adorable baby— a total sweetheart.

“Love you papa.” You mumbled, drifting off without a second thought.

Toji smiled, taking in your gorgeous face one more time before closing his eyes.

“Love you too mama.”

[loveyourlovelysoul]

since now i'm "older", i think i can tell y'all that there's really nothing bad in turning 25 or aging in general. ofc i still have a lot to see and learn but imo there's no limit age when it comes to having dreams, desires, hopes, and fun. or being in contact with your inner child and letting it shine. there's no limit age after which you're too old for something. you're never too old, don't believe all those lies. you're the one deciding how to spend your life and what goals to reach and when (usually, when you're ready for them... and it depends only on you). keep living day by day, and enjoy as much as you can. focus just on this, on being in tune with yourself as often as you can... the rest will come naturally. we're made believe that adulthood is about acting your age, being serious all the time, focusing on producing something/working/being someone/reaching a certain goal and forgetting about your needs, fun and all; but to me it's about being (or trying to be) a balanced version of all your various selves. it's knowing when to be an adult with all their duties and when to still be "a child". it's about realizing that we're still a bunch of "works in progress", and that we will always be until the very end. anyway... try to not worry about your age, there're already many other things we have to worry about in life. age is really just a number unless you decide to give it another worth (and yeah, actually at times I am still worried of it too but the only way to get over this worry is accepting it and yourself: there's nothing you can do about it, time doesn't stop, we're all destined to age... and that number too is part of us, for a year. and if others judge us only for it or compare you with others based only on it, it's their fear talking. they very likely don't know you and your personal path, or don't get it. it's not on you).

I think being afraid of becoming 25 can be combated by like literally hanging out w people of all age groups and realizing that they too have personalities and hopes and dreams and goals and life is not over for you at like 30

[delugyu]

hi!! i was wondering if i could request a one shot based on the GGUM mv where yeonjun is a cocky and bratty k pop idol that belittles everyone and basically the reader is like his mananger who’s had enough of his behavior and decides to teach him a lesson and he’s super submissive.

btw i LOVE your writing. cold, curse city was amazing <3

jumped for joy when i saw submissive yeonjun YAYYYYYYY (also thank you!!! hehe)

(wc: 2k / warnings: mean dom!reader, sub!yeonjun, reader’s kind of a bitch but yeonjun is too so it’s okay, degradation, humiliation, oral kinda idk eating pussy thru the panties, unprotected sex, edging..?)

you’re pretty sure that the biggest source of your headaches on any given day is the man you’re watching right now—on a tuesday at eight in the morning—who’s trying to convince you that the interviewer deserved it earlier when he called her an idiot.

“yeah, no. that’s never happening again,” you say plainly, cutting off his long-winded explanation. if only he could catch on when you’re trying to leave no room for argument, but unfortunately he has the most major case of lacking respect and decorum that you’ve ever seen.

“so you think it was okay for her to say that being bratty is my whole brand?” he asks.

“well, if you keep acting the way you do, then you can’t be surprised if that’s what people focus on.” you won’t lie: his brash personality is definitely good for gaining attention. his PR team never has to work too hard, since they know yeonjun’s going to do something stupid to get him on the news anyway. you’re jealous, cause you’re over here busting your ass to make sure he doesn’t go too far and ruin his career.

“i’d be selling a fake image if i was out there kissing babies and shaking hands,” yeonjun says.

“so the better alternative is running your mouth until half the country wants you beaten up?” you don’t want him to act like someone he’s not, but you also don’t want him to be such a dick to everyone.

“stop acting like you know me or the things i want,” he says. it lights a fire inside of you, rage burning at his insinuation. “i don’t want a nice, clean image. i fucking hate it when you try to force that onto me.”

he walks away into his dressing room, probably done with you and this conversation, but you’ve had it. you’re pissed, and he needs to learn that he doesn’t sit on top of the world. you mutter out quick apologies to the staff you push past in your haste to follow yeonjun.

before you can step into the room, yeonjun slams the door in front of your face. “yeonjun, are you fucking kidding me?!” you bang your fist against the door when turning the knob doesn’t work.

“go away,” he says from behind the door. you let out something like a growl in your frustration, feeling like you might just rip all your hair out. it’s too early to already be doing this.

“why do you throw fits every time i try to tell you to have some respect? you can never just bite your tongue for a second.”

you’re met with silence. you hate when he starts tuning you out. you’ll have to pop a few tylenols after this to keep your headache from killing you.

you start up once more, “you think anyone’s gonna look at your art before they look at you as a person? what’s the point in making good music if the person behind it is such a jackass?”

again, no reply. you sigh, running your hands down your face as you try to collect yourself. this isn’t worth it. he’s never going to change.

“i’m thinking i should just quit and let you deal with whatever asshole comes in after me,” you say, just trying to stir him into giving you a response now. you usually keep yourself from going back and forth with him like this, but he’s been on your nerves way too much recently. you were bound to explode with how much he’s been testing you.

the door finally opens. you don’t waste a second when you push it wider and enter the room, shutting it behind you. he’s crossing his arms, eyebrow raised like he’s waiting for you to scold him some more.

“you actually gonna quit, or was that all talk?” he asks.

you scowl and push on his shoulders until he’s sitting on one of the chairs. his eyes widen for a second like he’s surprised you actually put your hands on him. he should be grateful you don’t do worse.

“listen, i’m not going to take your shit anymore. i’m not giving you a choice. you need to have some respect.” you look down at him with ice cold eyes. he squirms a little in his seat; you almost find it funny.

“i don’t know how you expect me to do that. this is just how i am,” he counters.

“shutting your mouth would be a good start.” you put your hand over his lips when he opens them to start talking again. “see, you’re already trying to bark. just listen.”

you keep your hand there, and you’re kind of surprised that he doesn’t even try to move you away. your other hand grips the back of his chair so that you’re leaning over him, and you finally feel like you’re more powerful than him. you feel like he might listen to you for once.

“if you don’t want to be seen as a brat, then don’t be a brat,” you say. “you can have a tough image without annoying everyone. people see you more as a toddler than as some cool guy.”

his eyes dart down, and you realize that, with you leaning over him, he has a great view of your cleavage. he’s staring at your tits. scandalized, you grab his jaw to tilt his head all the way up, so he can either stare at the ceiling or look at your face. he chooses the ceiling.

“are you trying to make me hate my job? do you want me to quit?” you ask.

his eyes find yours at that, and you’re a little surprised to not find any fight in them. he shakes his head and keeps his mouth shut.

“you can answer now,” you say, letting go of his jaw.

“don’t quit, i like you as my manager,” he answers quickly. you huff out a laugh.

“well you sure as hell don’t act like it.”

“i’m sorry,” he apologizes—and sounds completely sincere, too.

you stand up straight, assessing him silently. you let your eyes rake down his body, noticing how he doesn’t move an inch. looks like you’ve finally put him in his place. it’s such a shame that it practically takes you bullying him to get to this point.

“so you’re gonna cool the tough guy act?” you ask.

“i dunno, maybe you should test how obedient i can be,” he prompts with a growing smile. wow, and you were doing so well.

“get off that chair.” immediately he does, standing up and waiting for his next instruction. you laugh at how pathetic his switch up is. you’d love for the nation to see yeonjun now, so eager to follow your orders. how far will he go?

you decide to test it out. “kneel.”

he’s just as quick to follow through with that, too. a power rush is already surging inside you, pumping adrenaline through your body. he looks up at you from his position on his knees. there’s still some space between you, though.

“come a little closer. crawl to me.” your pleased smile stays on your face as you watch him obey, keeping eye contact as he inches toward you.

“this is so funny,” you say as you look down at him. for the first time in your life, you see him look embarrassed. his eyes dart off to the side, unable to take the torment. “eyes on me. don’t you dare try looking away again.”

his cheeks glow with a subtle red tint, you notice as you take in his face. “would you be so kind as to apologize to me again?” you ask.

“i’m sorry,” he answers promptly.

“hm. better than that.”

he looks confused, but you know he’s desperate to follow because he’s quick to oblige. “i’m sorry i was such a brat to you and everyone else.”

“you were a brat. what do you think brats like you deserve?”

you feel him shiver. “punishment,” he answers meekly.

“that’s right.” you place your foot on his crotch, not paying any mind to how hard he is already. “what a shame you were so bad. you could’ve came today.” you take your foot off him and spread your legs apart. “get me nice and wet for your cock.”

“w-what?” he stammers, looking up at you all scandalized.

“i’m not in the mood to repeat myself.” with all the eagerness he’s ever had, yeonjun grips onto your thighs and dips his head beneath your skirt. he starts licking your cunt over your panties, tongue working adamantly against you like he’s scared to do it wrong or poorly.

you sigh, relaxing into the feeling. this is better stress relief than any amount of medicine could give you. maybe you’ll be resorting to this more often.

he wraps his lips around your clothed clit and sucks, then swipes his tongue across the swollen bud. he’s deeply focused on pleasuring you, repeating any little action that makes your legs twitch. you hate to admit it, but he’s getting you wet so fast.

“guess this is the only way to shut you up, huh?” you ask, and you feel him nod in response. “should i do this more then?”

“yes,” he pulls away to say, replacing his mouth with his fingers rubbing quickly against you. “do it as much as you want.”

“is the promise of pussy the only way you’ll—fuck, just like that—respect me?” his fingers run wildly over your clit, desperation oozing off of him.

“only yours. i’ll do anything for it.” he presses into your core, grinding his hand against you. “you’re so wet. please sit on my cock.”

you hum, wanting to say no and torture him more, but you can’t deny how bad you want to feel him inside you.

“sit on the chair and undo your pants,” you instruct. you slide off your panties as he does that.

you sit on his lap and give his dick a few quick jerks before aligning it with your entrance. he makes more noise than you do as you sink onto him, which would make you snicker if you weren’t so busy adjusting to his size.

“you moan like a bitch,” you hiss out as you finally take all of him in. you stay bottomed out for a minute, letting yourself get used to the stretch, grinding your hips every now and then to hear him whine.

“please move, i need more,” he says after a minute.

“don’t tell me what to do.” you start moving anyway—not because he begged you to, but because you’re getting needier for your orgasm. “this isn’t about you, brat.”

he keeps whining as you bounce on his dick, throwing his head back and dropping his mouth open. he sounds so much better when he’s moaning like a whore instead of bitching at everyone on earth.

you gasp when you feel his fingers on your clit, playing with the bud with endless need. even when he bites his lip, little noises keep spilling out of him, and a part of you is almost afraid that someone’s going to hear him.

“i’m close,” you say as you lean back a little, letting his dick hit a new spot inside of you. his eyes shine when he sees your body start twitching.

“i want you to cum so bad, please please give it to me!” his begging throws you ever the edge, biting your lip so you don’t make any sound. breathy little noises escape you instead, which yeonjun seems to like just as much.

you swat his hand away when it becomes too much, catching your breath while you ignore yeonjun’s twitching dick inside of you. yeonjun’s losing his patience, grabbing your hips needily.

“i need to cum too,” he says, brows upturned and almost looking pitiful. you enjoy the feeling of him inside you for a couple more seconds before getting up.

“isn’t that too bad,” you say. his jaw drops, and he goes speechless yet again. “don’t look so surprised. didn’t i tell you that you won’t be cumming today?”

the betrayal on his face suddenly makes this job worth every penny.

[marauroon]

── .✦ 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝 (𝐬.𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤)

sirius is so adamant to prove his hatred for what his family stands for that he ends up becoming them.

sirius black x gn!reader | 3.1k | flangst | masterlist.

CW | slytherin reader, kind of bullying (marauders to reader), lots of arguing, enemies to lovers, slow burn, just general britishness

a/n — the og request was so enthusiastic so i hope this lives up to expectations 🤞

The corridors of Hogwarts are never quiet, always filled with the chatter of students, the rustling of robes, the distant hum of magical portraits gossiping amongst themselves.

You’ve grown used to it, just as you’ve grown used to the way Gryffindors look at you—like you’re something foul stuck to the bottom of their shoe.

It doesn’t bother you, not really.

You’ve learned to wear your green and silver with pride, to ignore the muttered remarks and judgmental glances.

Except for him.

Sirius Black doesn’t just glare. He sneers. He rolls his eyes. He makes a show of stepping aside when you pass, like even sharing the same air as you is offensive.

It would almost be funny if it weren’t so pathetic. If he weren’t so Sirius Black about it—dramatic, unrelenting, determined to make sure you know what he thinks of you.

“Merlin, I think the dungeon stench is getting stronger,” he drawls loudly one afternoon, just as you’re walking past him in the Entrance Hall. James, always eager to stir up trouble, chuckles beside him. “Might need to start carrying something to ward it off. What do you reckon, Moony?”

Remus doesn’t even look up from his book, but Peter snickers anyway.

You don’t hesitate. You stop, arching a brow as you tilt your head just slightly. “If you’re that worried about foul stenches, Black, maybe start with your own ego. Smells rancid from here.”

James whistles lowly, nudging Sirius in the ribs. “You gonna take that, mate?”

Sirius scoffs. “From a Slytherin?” His grey eyes flick over you dismissively, like you’re not worth the energy. “Please,”

It’s always the same with him—cold, cruel, hypocritical. And yet, every time he opens his mouth to throw another insult, all you can think is does he even realise how much he sounds like the very people he claims to hate?

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? Sirius is so desperate to prove he’s not like his family that he’s swung in the other direction entirely. His rebellion is as rigid as the ideals he’s rejecting.

The way he sees it, Slytherin equals the worst parts of his family, of the wizarding world, of everything he wants to burn to the ground. And you? You just happen to wear the wrong colours.

Fine. Let him hate you. You can hate him right back.

—

You don’t know what it is about today that makes you snap. Maybe it’s the way Sirius has been especially insufferable. Maybe it’s the way James is laughing at something he’s said, or the way Peter chimes in with a snide little comment of his own. Maybe it’s because Remus, for all his supposed mediation, never actually tells them to stop.

Or maybe it’s just because you’ve had enough.

“Honestly, mate, you’d think they’d at least try to be original,” Sirius muses, staring you down across the library table as you attempt—attempt—to focus on your Transfiguration notes. “But no. Same old pureblood rubbish, same old superiority complex. Must get exhausting,”

It’s not even a direct insult. Not really. Just another offhand remark, the same tired implication that your house defines you, that you must be just like the worst of them.

Something inside you snaps.

The chair scrapes harshly against the floor as you shove it back, standing before you even fully register what you’re doing. The words spill out before you can stop them, sharp and furious and ringing through the library loud enough that even Madame Pince glances over in alarm.

"If you’re so ‘against prejudice,’ then stop assuming that every single bloody green tie you see is the mark of a blood supremacist.”

Sirius freezes.

For the first time, you watch his usual cocky, self-assured expression falter. His lips part, as if reaching for some quick-witted comeback, some clever insult to throw back at you—but nothing comes.

James blinks. Peter’s mouth is slightly open, as though waiting for Sirius to say something. Even Remus looks up from his book now, brow furrowed, sensing something different in the air.

But you don’t wait for a response. You don’t need one.

You shake your head, scoff under your breath, and turn on your heel, leaving them in stunned silence as you march out of the library.

You don’t look back.

—

The words don’t leave Sirius alone. They lodge themselves in his brain, clawing at the edges of his thoughts, forcing their way in when he least expects it.

He tells himself it’s ridiculous. That he was right, that you’re just being defensive because, deep down, you know what Slytherin stands for. That you’re just like them.

…Except, what if you’re not?

The realisation sits uncomfortably in his chest. He doesn’t like it. He doesn’t want to like it.

Because if you’re right—if he’s spent all these years hating you for the same kind of blind, sweeping judgements he resents in his own family for—then what does that say about him?

The Marauders notice the shift almost immediately.

“You’re brooding,” James comments, flopping down on the common room sofa beside him. “That’s a Remus thing. You’re not allowed to brood,”

“I’m not brooding,” Sirius mutters.

“You are,” Remus agrees from the armchair, not even looking up from his book. “It’s a bit unsettling, actually,”

Peter squints at him. “Did you two have a duel we don’t know about? Because if they hexed your mouth shut, I think I might actually give them a round of applause,”

Sirius scowls, throwing a cushion at him. “Piss off.”

But later, when he’s lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, he still hears your voice.

"Stop assuming."

He hates that you might be right.

And Sirius Black is nothing if not stubborn.

Which is exactly why, the next morning, he decides to prove you wrong.

By being nice.

—

It starts small.

No insults. No remarks. No sneering looks when you pass by in the corridors. He doesn’t trip you in Potions, doesn’t scoff when Slughorn praises you for a well-brewed Draught of Living Death.

You notice, of course. But at first, you just assume he’s lost interest in his usual torment.

Then he starts doing things that make no sense.

Like defending you in conversation.

The first time, you assume you’ve misheard him. Some Gryffindor is mouthing off about Slytherins in the Great Hall—predictable—and you’ve already tuned it out when you hear Sirius scoff.

“You do realise you’re sounding exactly like my mother, right?” he says lazily, raising an eyebrow at the boy. “Or is irony just lost on you?”

The Gryffindor gapes at him. You do, too. Sirius doesn’t even look at you, just shoves another bite of toast into his mouth like he hasn’t just flipped his entire personality on its head.

Then he starts helping.

When Slughorn assigns a partnered essay in Potions, you groan inwardly as Sirius drops into the seat beside you.

"Relax, I’m not gonna hex your parchment," he says dryly, rolling his eyes. And then—worse—he actually pulls his weight.

It’s so painfully obvious that he’s overcompensating. That he’s doing this out of some ridiculous, guilt-driven need to prove a point. And it infuriates you.

Because now—after weeks of treating you like dirt—he suddenly decides to grow a conscience?

After class, you shove your books into your bag with more force than necessary and whirl on him.

“If you’re trying to make up for being an arse, don’t bother,” you snap. “It’s not an apology if you’re only doing it to make yourself feel better.”

Sirius looks taken aback for all of half a second before his jaw tightens. “That’s not—”

But you don’t wait to hear whatever half-baked excuse he’s about to come up with.

You just shake your head and walk away.

Again.

And the worst part?

This time, he actually looks frustrated about it.

—

Sirius doesn’t try to talk to you again for a while after that.

And for a moment, you think—Good. Let him stew in it. Let him realise that you’re not some guilt-induced redemption project. Let him finally get it through his thick skull that you don’t need, nor want, his forced attempts at kindness.

But then something strange happens.

He doesn’t go back to his usual ways. He doesn’t start throwing insults again, doesn’t return to sneering at you in the corridors or loudly making snide remarks whenever you’re in earshot.

Instead, he just… stops trying so hard altogether.

And that’s somehow even more infuriating.

Because now, instead of forced civility or open hostility, Sirius Black simply acts like you’re—normal. Like you’re just another person in the castle, not an enemy, not a cause for guilt, not someone to be proved wrong or right.

It’s unnerving.

You’re used to his usual extremes—hot or cold, cruel or obnoxiously overcompensating—but this new, balanced in-between? It throws you completely off.

And it gets worse.

Because the universe, apparently, hates you.

First, there’s the paired assignments—because of course McGonagall has the bright idea to randomly assign partners for an extensive Transfiguration project, and of course you end up stuck with him.

Then, there’s the detention—because James Potter and Evan Rosier just had to get into a hexing match in the middle of the corridor, and you just had to be in the splash zone when Flitwick rounded the corner. Now you’re forced to scrub cauldrons in the Potions classroom with Sirius Black, of all people.

And then—worst of all—there’s the Astronomy Tower.

It starts as another unfortunate coincidence. You head up to the tower late one night, unable to sleep, hoping for a moment of solitude beneath the stars. But as soon as you push the door open, you see a familiar figure already leaning against the stone railing.

For a moment, neither of you say anything.

You could leave. Turn around, pretend you never came up here, avoid another painfully awkward interaction. But Sirius—maybe out of some residual stubbornness, maybe out of something else—just sighs and shifts slightly to the side.

Not enough to make a big deal out of it. Just enough to make room.

And against your better judgement, you take it.

Minutes pass in silence. It’s strange—peaceful, but charged in a way you can’t quite explain.

Then, in a voice so quiet you almost don’t hear it, Sirius says, “I never actually thought about it, you know,”

You frown, glancing at him. “Thought about what?”

His gaze stays fixed on the stars, but there’s something distant in it—something tired. “How I treated you,” he admits. “I just—” He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “I was so focused on not being my family, I didn’t stop to think about what that actually meant. I thought hating everything they stood for was enough, but—I ended up doing the same thing, just in a different direction,”

You stare at him, not entirely sure what to say.

Because this is different. This isn’t him trying to prove a point. It’s not a dramatic display of guilt or some exaggerated attempt at redemption. It’s just… honest.

You lean against the railing, crossing your arms. “Took you long enough to figure that out,”

He chuckles, and—Merlin help you—you don’t hate the sound of it as much as you should. “Yeah. It did,”

Silence settles between you again, but this time, it’s comfortable.

And somewhere—between detentions and forced partnerships and nights beneath the stars—you start to realise something else.

You don’t hate him anymore.

It happens slowly. So slowly, in fact, that you don’t realise it’s happening at all.

One moment, Sirius Black is the boy who made your life miserable. The next, he’s the one you’re arguing with over which essay topic is more interesting in the library. The one who always seems to find himself sitting near you at meals, not with you, but near enough. The one who makes exasperated faces at you in class when someone says something particularly stupid.

And then—one day—he’s the one standing between you and a wand aimed at your chest.

You don’t even see who casts the spell. One second, you’re walking back from Charms; the next, someone shouts “Confringo!” and the air crackles with heat. You barely register what’s happening before a body collides with yours, knocking you out of the way as the spell slams into the stone wall behind you.

When you land, it’s hard, Sirius’s weight pressing you against the ground, shielding you before he rolls off just as quickly. The world tilts for a second before you push yourself up, heartbeat thudding in your ears.

Sirius is already on his feet, wand out, furious.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” His voice is sharp, dangerous in a way you’ve never heard before. It’s not his usual bravado—not the arrogant drawl he puts on when taunting someone. It’s real, raw anger.

Whoever cast the spell is already gone, footsteps echoing down the corridor.

Your pulse is still racing when you realise he’s turned back to you. “Are you—?” He stops, eyes scanning you quickly for any sign of injury before he shakes his head. “That was—” He cuts himself off again, pressing his lips together, looking angrier than ever.

You exhale sharply, pushing yourself fully upright. “I had it under control.”

He lets out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Yeah? That why you were about to get set on fire?”

You glare at him. “Oh, piss off, Black—”

“I just saved your life—”

“I would’ve been fine—”

You don’t realise how close you are until the argument stops.

You’re both still breathing hard, tension thick between you, too much heat in the air that has nothing to do with the spell. His hand is still half-raised, like he wants to reach for you but thought better of it.

His grey eyes are darker than usual, scanning your face like he’s searching for something—like he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to find.

And suddenly, you don’t either.

Your throat feels dry.

Why are you looking at him like that?

Worse—why is he looking at you like that?

You blink first, stepping back, shaking off the moment like it was nothing. “I’m fine,” you mutter, brushing imaginary dust off your robes. “You can stop looking at me like I’m about to drop dead,”

Sirius hesitates. Then, just as quickly, he rolls his shoulders, slipping back into something more familiar—tilting his head, raising a brow, smirking like none of it ever happened. “If you say so,”

But as you turn away, you feel his gaze linger.

And that’s when it really starts.

It’s slow, almost imperceptible at first.

Conversations that used to be sharp and barbed are now laced with something else—something softer, something almost teasing. Your insults have lost their bite; his smirks have stopped feeling like a challenge.

Then, there are the looks.

Stolen glances across classrooms. Raised eyebrows in the Great Hall when someone says something particularly idiotic. That half-smile he gives you when you say something sarcastic under your breath, like you’ve shared some private joke no one else gets.

And the touches.

His knee bumping yours under the table in the library. Fingers brushing when he hands you a quill. The way he slings an arm around James’s shoulders so often that you don’t think much of it when he does the same to you.

Until—one evening—you do.

You’re both where you always seem to end up lately—next to each other at a table, books spread out between you, quills scratching against parchment.

It’s late, and most students have already trickled back to their dorms. The candlelight flickers, casting shadows over Sirius’s face as he leans back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head with a groan.

You’re half-asleep, scribbling something about Vanishing Spells when you feel it—his fingers, barely there, skimming against your wrist.

It’s absentminded, thoughtless. But he doesn’t move away.

And neither do you.

You should.

You really should.

But all you can think about is that moment in the corridor. The way he looked at you. The way you looked back.

“This is stupid,” he mutters.

“You’re stupid,” you reply automatically, not even looking up from your notes.

Sirius huffs a laugh. “Brilliant comeback,”

“Thanks,” You flip a page. “Took me ages to come up with it,”

There’s a pause. Not an awkward one—just the kind that’s started to feel normal between you. Easy.

Then Sirius shifts, resting his arms on the table, fingers tapping idly against the wood. “You know,” he says, voice quieter now, more thoughtful, “I don’t think I hate you anymore.”

You freeze.

Slowly, carefully, you lift your gaze from your book. Sirius isn’t smirking, isn’t making a joke of it. He’s just looking at you—calm, steady, like he’s only just realising it himself.

Your throat feels weirdly tight. You swallow. “Oh?”

He nods once. “Yeah.”

You don’t know why your heart is suddenly beating too fast.

You could joke about it. Could roll your eyes, make some sarcastic remark about how long it’s taken him. Could pretend like this moment doesn’t feel like the ground shifting beneath you.

But you don’t.

Instead, after a moment, you nod back.

“I don’t think I hate you either.”

It’s quiet. Undramatic. But as Sirius’s mouth quirks up—just slightly, just enough—you realise it’s the most important thing you’ve said in a long time.

[crystalandbow]

FEBRUARY MESSAGES FOR YOU

hi! welcome back

ik its been loonngg anyways just pick the pile that calls you and lets begin

PILES:

< PILE 1 >

THEME AND FOCUS

(the world, 8 of wands, 5 of pentacles. full moon in Scorpio - breathe through the tension)

I feel change right off the bat. The World as your theme shows that a major cycle is reaching completion, bringing discomfort along itself. The Wheel of Fortune tried to pop out of the deck, signaling that this shift is not random; it’s part of a greater plan. But endings, even the necessary ones, rarely feel easy. There may be moments of resistance, where you feel trapped. Which is absolutely okay. What's important is that you sit with it, learn what you need to, and allow the transition to unfold. Nothing about this phase can be rushed or avoided.

For your focus we have the 8 of Wands which is a call to action. Change is already in motion, and avoidance will only make it harder. Expect fast-moving developments—messages, opportunities, or decisions that require your immediate attention. There’s no space for hesitation now. Whatever you’ve been waiting for is accelerating, and how you respond will set the tone for what comes next.

The 5 of Pentacles suggests this won’t be a smooth ride. Emotionally, financially, or spiritually, you might feel the weight of this transition. But the Full Moon in Scorpio reminds you: pressure creates transformation. There is intensity in the air—desire, tension, even restlessness. You may feel drawn toward something (or someone) with an almost magnetic force. Don’t suppress it, but also don’t let it consume you. This is a test of self-awareness. How you channel this energy really really matters.

< PILE 2 >

What’s most important now is balance. When emotions run high, it’s easy to focus on loss, uncertainty, or what feels out of reach. But this is not the time to spiral—it’s the time to recalibrate. Instead of asking, Why is this happening? ask, What is this clearing space for? This is the moment before renewal. The discomfort will pass, and when it does, you’ll see that this was never about loss—it was about making room for what’s next.

Hope it resonates do lmk your thoughts below! See you next time

Okay I like how well the cards flow into each other and just how clear the message is.

THEME AND FOCUS

(8 of swords, the emperor, hermit. first quarter moon in Pisces- honour your feelings, new moon in Virgo- trust all will be well)

This month carries a sense of mental entrapment, yet also the structure and discipline needed to break free.

With the 8 of Swords as your theme, there is a strong feeling of being stuck—whether due to self-doubt, overthinking, or external restrictions. However, this is more of a mental prison than a real one. The way forward exists, but right now, it may not feel obvious. The challenge is recognizing where you’re limiting yourself and where you need to shift your perspective.

Your focus, The Emperor, calls for structure, control, and decisive action. Where 8 of Swords represents hesitation, The Emperor represents authority and order. This is about taking responsibility for your situation rather than feeling powerless against it. Even if things feel uncertain, discipline and clear thinking will be your strongest allies. There is no room for avoidance—this is about stepping up and setting firm boundaries, both with yourself and others.

The message from The Hermit and the First Quarter Moon in Pisces is clear: your emotions matter, but they shouldn’t consume you. If you’ve been suppressing what you truly feel, this is the time to acknowledge it. Pretending to be unaffected will only create more internal tension. That said, there is a fine line between honoring your emotions and getting lost in them. Reflection is important, but so is perspective. Look at the bigger picture before reacting.

< PILE 3 >

The New Moon in Virgo reassures you that everything is unfolding in divine timing. Patience is key. There may be a strong desire for immediate resolution, but forcing things won’t lead to the outcome you want. Instead, focus on what you can control—your actions, your mindset, and how you contribute to the world around you. Small, practical efforts will be more effective than overanalyzing the unknown.

Hope it resonates do lmk your thoughts below! See you next time

This month is about movement, ambition, and emotional balance. There’s an undeniable fire beneath the surface—excitement, restlessness, and a desire to push forward. But how you direct this energy will determine your results.

THEME AND FOCUS

(page of wands, knight of swords, king of cups. first quarter moon in cap- unleash your kindest self, last quarter moon in Gemini- clear your mind)

With the Page of Wands as your theme, you will be stepping into a period of curiosity, inspiration, and new beginnings. There’s a sense of exploration here—whether it’s a new idea, project, or mindset. The energy is fresh and exciting, but pages represent learning stages, meaning there’s still much to figure out. Stay open, stay eager, but don’t rush without understanding where you're headed.

Your focus, Knight of Swords, demands swift action and determination. This is a card of sharp intellect, rapid movement, and a strong desire to chase your goals. However, speed without strategy can lead to recklessness. The challenge this month is to balance enthusiasm with clarity—move with purpose, but don't let impatience cloud your judgment. Stay focused, but avoid tunnel vision.

The message from the King of Cups and the First Quarter Moon in Capricorn is about emotional control and kindness. While ambition is necessary, forcing things or being too hard on yourself (or others) will only drain your energy. Discipline is important, but it shouldn’t come at the cost of joy. A balanced approach—one that combines logic, emotion, and patience—will get you much further than rigid expectations.

The Last Quarter Moon in Gemini urges you to clear your mind. Overthinking, anxiety, or repetitive thoughts could be holding you back. Instead of dwelling on uncertainties, take a step back. Organize your thoughts, talk things out, and refocus on what you do want rather than what you fear. The mind is a powerful tool, but left unchecked, it can become its own worst enemy.

Hope it resonates do lmk your thoughts below! See you next time

[angelinthefire]

Ekko, Viktor, and dialectics

Ekko is a really fascinating character because he has comparatively so little screen time, but is so important to the story of Arcane.

I started to get into my thoughts on him in this post, and I wanted to expand on those ideas some more. And to especially focus on the question of why Ekko is the one who's able to stop Viktor (and give Jayce the opportunity to do his thing), and the significance of Viktor's line, "that device can't be."

To start, let's talk about what Ekko represents.

(As before, I'm going to recommend watching these two videos about Ekko, they're really good)

Ekko occupies a unique place in the narrative. In a story about duality, he exists at the point where dualities meet.

For example with time. Arcane is full of characters who are either very focused on the future, or very focused on the past. You have Vander who can't get over the failed rebellion, and Silco who invests everything in his vision for Zaun. You have Jayce and Viktor who are all about progress, and Vi and Jinx who struggle to escape their past. etc.

Ekko is the one character who fully embraces the present. He honours the past (as we see with the mural), but as he tells Vi, brooding on the past will just make you go crazy. Nor does he have great dreams for the future, his focus is giving people a good life now. He doesn't think that far ahead because he sees the potential in the present moment.

I would also argue that Ekko exists at the intersection of order and chaos, which is probably the greatest duality that exists in Arcane. Partially by virtue of being in the present: Entropy states that systems move from order to chaos over time -- in the past there's order, in the future there's chaos, the present is where they meet. But also because of what he's actually doing in the story.

One of the manifestations of Order vs. Chaos in Arcane is the conflict between Piltover and Zaun (obviously Piltover representing order, Zaun representing chaos). There's an interview with Silco's voice actor where he says something along the lines that he didn't really give up his dream of Zaun for Jinx, because to him, Jinx embodies all chaos that he sees as Zaun's strength, that makes Zaun what it is. Ekko and the Firelights are definitely Zaunite, but they reject Silco's chaotic vision of Zaun; and they reject the oppressive order of Piltover as well. They aren't entirely removed from the situation though, they live on the edges.

I'd also argue that Ekko represents life. In his fight with Jinx, the show really plays up the animal imagery that's associated with them, with Jinx's crow as a harbinger of death, and Ekko's firelight bug, that brings light. Of course there's his whole thing of "It's not enough to give people what they need to survive, you need to give them what they need to live." And then there's the tree. Ekko's commune is probably the most organic-looking location in the show. (I think Caitlyn is the only other one we see in natural surroundings - there's the shooting grounds in her flashback [which takes place in fall when evereything's dying] and then there's the very manicured garden that she goes to. Both of which contrast with Ekko's tree).

And then of course there's Ekko's season 2 story arc. He gets what he thought he wanted with Silco dying, but then the chem barons fighting to take his place makes things worse (which Ekko seems to have never thought ahead to the future enough to consider). He's losing hope, and the tree starts to die. His trip to the alternate universe shows him what kind of potential exists in the things he gave up on (in Zaun, and in Jinx), so that he can go back and fight, not just for his isolated anarchist commune, but for his whole city. He learns that "It's never too late to build something new" - the potential exists now to do that.

That's also when he gets his special power, the Z-drive, that lets him fully make use of the present moment.

Now that that's established, let's talk about dialectics.

Stick with me, I promise this is relevant.

So dialectics is basically the philosophy of change.

It started with the Greeks. Think Heraclitus, "the only constant is change", “No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it's not the same river and he's not the same man” etc. Everything is flowing, interconnected, transforming into each other. But dialectics as a form of thought was formalized in Socratic argument. "Dialectic" comes from "dialogue". You have a thesis, and an antithesis, and they come together to produce a synthesis. Two opposites coming together to form something new.

Fast forward to the late 1700s/early 1800s, and we get Hegel. Who's into dialectics, but sees the Socratic form of it as a "lifeless schema" - it's too formulaic. For Hegel, dialectics is a way of explaining an ongoing process of change through contradiction. All motion is created by contradiction, and motion is inherent in all things.

So for example, there's the unity and interpentration of opposites. Two things that mutually oppose and condition each other. Like two poles of a magnet, prey and predator species that evolve in response to each other, or the working class and capitalist class. They are opposing forces, but neither would exist as such without the other. This also often involves things turning into their opposite, like the polarity of the earth reversing every so often, or someone's greatest strength also being their greatest weakness.

There's the process of the negation of the negation - that is, progress takes place, but not in a straight line. It's more like a spiral, that moves upward while also circling back on itself. Things repeat, but never the same way. Cycles of life and death are a classic example of this, one generation has to die for a new one to take it's place, but the new generation is not a repetition of the one that came before, it has new mutations, or takes on new lessons, or there's more individuals.

And there's the process of quantitative changes building into qualitative changes. This is the idea that change happens slowly, and then all at once (often caused by a shock to the system). Like supercooled water that freezes when it's shocked. Or tension building up in continental plates until there's an earthquake. Or mutations building up in a species until it becomes a new one. Or evolution more generally takes place through punctuated equilibrium, stages of stability, large extinctions, and rapid diversification.

Now, Hegel would not have used any of the examples that I just used, because he was a philosophical idealist - that is, he thought ideas were the driving force of history, not material forces. He also thought that he had developed the Absolute Idea, which capped off the long historic process of development. And that the German state was the realization of the Absolute Idea.

Karl Marx was the one who took Hegel and said, the stuff about change through contradiction is very useful, but the Absolute Idea stuff is ridiculous, let's apply the logic of dialectics to the real world. And then he wrote Capital.

And that's dialectics! Change happens through contradiction, contradiction and change are inherent to life. Contradiction is inherent to life, which means the potential for change is inherent to life. (seriously though, it's really useful analytical tool, if you want to learn more about dialectics, start here)

Back to Arcane!

So, I'm sure you can see how dialectics is incredibly relevant to the themes of duality in Arcane. Like how Zaun and Piltover mutually oppose and condition each other. How there's so much repetition, but each instance has a new layer of meaning. How characters develop along a path and then there's a shock that accelerates things, and how a lot of them became their opposites in season 2.

And this brings us to Viktor.

There's a few characters who make very explicit statements on the theme of the show. Viktor is the one who monologues the most extensively about it though.

His little speech about evolution having an end point is interesting, because it shows even before the attack on the commune, he didn't really get it. The "glorious evolution" is very "Absolute Idea" of him, imagining history has an end point.

But of course the more important part is his monologue at the end of the episode.

To quote directly: "I understand now. The message hidden within the pattern. The reason for our failures in the commune. The doctor was right. It's inescapable. Humanity. Our very essence. Our emotions. Rage, compassion, hate, two sides of the same coin, inextricably bound. That which inspires us to our greatest good, is also the cause of our greatest evil."

Very dialectical, right? He's talking about the unity of opposites. But what's interesting is where he goes from there.

Viktor sees that contradiction, and thinks the solution is to resolve the contradiction, to end it, to solve it like a puzzle.

But what's essential about the unity of opposites is that they don't resolve. They don't cancel each other out, they don't form some lukewarm whole, they co-exist as opposites. A magnet isn't a homogenous mix of positive and negative charges, it has two poles, that's what makes a magnet what it is. The contradictions of a thing are what give it it's characteristics, what give it its movement, and its life. Life itself is a contradiction, an ongoing process of decay and rebirth.

Viktor talks about "The sublime intersection of order and chaos," but he doesn't get what's important about it, that the contradiction is the source of life.

But that's something Ekko does understand.

Ekko's experience is not entirely dissimilar from Viktor's. They both saw the problems in society, and for both of them their response was to try to build these idylic little communes. But they couldn't wall themselves off from broader society, the conflicts of the world made their way in.

But while Viktor concluded that the thing to do was to eliminate contradiction, Ekko learned that the inherent contradiction of life means that there is inherent potential in everything, potential for change, for good alongside bad, and that you can fight to make the potential good into reality.

An end to contradiction means an end to change, which means an end to life. Imperfection is life, perfection is static and dead. This is something that Viktor learns eventually, with future Viktor saying, "I thought I could bring an end to the world's suffering. But when every equation was solved, all that remained were fields of dreamless solitude. There is no prize to perfection, only an end to pursuit."

Ekko represents the true, living intersection of order and chaos, the potential that exists in the contradiction. He represents life. And it's because of that that he's able to stop Viktor.

Viktor is insanely over-powered by the end of the show. It's not sheer power that stops him. It's Ekko using the potential of the moment with his time power who's able to get in a hit against Viktor. And to hit him with the thing that Ekko has mastered, the Z-drive, the physical embodiment of the present, of the meeting of past and future, of potential, of contradiction.

For all of Viktor's efforts, he can't erase contradiction. He thinks he's fixing humanity, but then all of a sudden he's hit with this thing that shouldn't exist. "That device can't be." But it is. It exists because of the potential within humanity, it exists because of Ekko.

[curly-fry-3]

𖦹An Old Friend - Part Two𖦹

summary𖦹 Sam learns listening to Ruby was bad a bit too late and you drive out to help him and dean fix their mess

pairing𖦹 Sam Winchester x Reader (eventual romantic)

word count𖦹 1,198

notes𖦹 I wanted it to be a slow-burn but Its moving faster than anticipated (they just need to get together asap) whatever hope y'all like it also hope that I didn't mischaracterize Sam (there's more focus on how he's feeling)

part 1

It had been a couple months. A couple months of worrying about Sam while he destroyed himself. Dean would update you every week or so and nothing had changed, Sam was still not listening and Dean had to deal with it. Except this call was different, Sam had killed Lilith, but it wasn't a good thing. Her death had released Lucifer from his cage. Ruby knew it would happen, she planned everything, and Sam took the bait. You knew she was no good. So here you were driving back out to see them and help them fix the mess they made. 

You didnt wanna be mad at Sam but he was a dick, you deserve to be angry–with both of the brothers. You were mad that they dragged you back into hunting, mad that sam didn't listen, mad that they only called you now that the needed help (seriously y'all have phones, why couldn't you have stayed friends after you went to collage), but you were especially mad that you don't have the time to be mad cause the world is kinda ending. It all just sucks. And the worst part is you have to talk to Sam again (awkward). You don't even know what to say to him–you know you won't say anything until he apologizes. 

So here you are outside another busted motel room, waiting for one of the brothers to let you in. Dean quickly cracks the door open, gun in hand, and pulls you into the room–making sure nobody followed you (kinda extra if you ask me) and splashes you with a bit of holy water.

“Seriously” you say, wiping your face dry.

Dean shrugs with his signature smirk “can never be too careful”

“Sure whatever” you roll your eyes in response and pull Dean into a hug. “Long time no see” you joke.

“Don't remind me” he says with fake annoyance in his tone

Sam comes out of the bathroom and immediately the mood shifts. He walks up to you awkwardly and you defiantly avoid his gaze.

“Hey Y/N” Sam says cautiously 

You refuse to respond but instead look at him with anger, making sure he understood how much he messed up.

“Look, I know I was a dick–”

You scoff “you were” 

Sam pauses to find the right words “you have every right to be mad at me–”

“Oh i'm pissed” You interrupt 

“Will you just let me talk…”

You roll your eyes and motion for him to continue

“I messed up and I should have listened to you, you were right–you always are–and I'm sorry for being so rude to you, I didn't mean it, I'm truly so sorry…you can say ‘I told you so’ and you don't have to accept my apology, I just wanted you to know that I know I was wrong.”

You sigh in resignation when he finishes his apology “sam…I don't wanna say I told you so–it doesn't change anything or make me any happier…I know your sorry and I don't wanna stay mad at you forever (its kinda hard to stay mad when he gives you those puppy dog eyes) it's just gonna take some time to get back to normal”

“Of course” sam quickly responds and nods his head in agreeance “thank you, really, i'm so sorry–”

You put your hand up to stop him “stop, I get it”

“Sorry” Sam replies and you give him a look that says ‘seriously’ and he corrects himself “right, no apologies”

You and sam stood staring at each other a lot less awkwardly that before until you gave in and hugged him “I can't resist, I missed you”

“I don't deserve this, I was a dick” he says in protest but hugs you back with no hesitation.

“Shut up and let me be nice to you, this is the first time we've really hung out since we were 18, I miss my best friend” you playfully scold and pull away from the hug. You glance up at Sam with a fond look in your eyes and a small, bashful smile on your face. 

Dean cuts through the tension and clears his throat from the other side of the room. You and Sam quickly break eye contact to look over at him. 

“Ok, now that we're one big happy family again…who wants a beer?” Dean asks, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

A grin spreads on your face, “Oh, now we're talking…i'll take one, thanks”

Dean nods “Coming right up” he turns to Sam, silently asking for his response.

“Sure, thanks” Sam quickly replies.

Dean heads to the small kitchen in the dingey motel and you start to follow him “let me help” you offer.

The second you step away from Sam he feels like he can breathe again. Have you always had this effect on him–I mean, he always cared what you thought–but this is different, like he needs your approval. Is that healthy? He doesn't have time for this, he has to focus on fighting Lucifer, but all he can think about is your smile and how easily you forgave him. You've always been such a sweetheart, he doesn't deserve your friendship (aren't you just the best)

Before Sam could get too lost in his thoughts, you and Dean are back with three opened beers. You move back to your spot next to sam and hand him one”

“Thanks” he mutters quietly

You give him a look that says ‘it's no problem’ and turn to Dean. “So, what have I missed these last couple years, I need to get caught up.”

The night goes on and you and the brothers talk about anything and everything, staying away from serious topics (just let my homeboys be relaxed for one night). Soon all three of you grow tired and Dean starts getting ready for bed. 

You turn to sam “I need some shut eye, i'm gonna go book a room, i'll text you the room number” 

Sam shakes his head “i'll come with you”

You smile in appreciation “prince charming, making sure I don't get snatched in the parking lot” you tease

He playfully rolls his eyes “sorry for being decent, next time i'll just let you go outside of a sketchy motel in the dark all alone”

“I never said it was a bad thing” You defend

He sighs, playfully exasperated “sure” 

You pat sams knee and stand up from your seat on the edge of sams bed“If your gonna come with me to book my room then get off your ass and lets go” you say while putting on your jacket

Sam is frozen for a second, a little flushed from the contact you made with his thigh, but quickly recovers and stands up with you “ok–ok, geeze”After Sam drops you off and makes sure you're settled, he heads back to his room. When he walks in he notices Dean already racked out on his bed drooling away. Sam quickly gets ready for bed and falls asleep thinking about you. He forgot how much he missed you–did he already mention how much he loves your smile. Why does he keep thinking of you? 

I hope this is good and I'm sorry if there are any typos

thanks for all the love on my first part

@jaybbygrl @uranometrias

[beef-brisket]

He felt like he was drowning. Or maybe he was learning to breathe again? He felt like he should know how to breathe, but each time he tried, it hurt.

Adam felt heavy and sluggish as he tried to claw himself out of whatever pit he was in. One minute he was holding his some and smiling at Eve, then the next...

Blackness and this horrible feeling all over his body.

He heard screaming and anarchy. But he couldn't see anything. He cldnt focus on anything.

The sound was becoming deafening. It was ringing in his ears. It was so loud, he thought his ears would bleed.

But as soon as it began, it was silent. All he could hear was the ringing in his hears, but behind that, was sweet silence.

As his eyes began to focus, he could tell he was in a large, black room with dark red accents. It was regal and haunting.

Suddenly, he felt a sharp, heavy pain rip through his stomach. It was debilitating, making him curl into himself.

Adam: F-Fuck...

He was determined to keep crawling. He needed to get to his feet and away from... wherever he is.

Crawling forward, his hands finally smacked a wall, and he slowly pulled himself to his knees. But as he went to stand, another pain shot through him. And now, with his eyes cleared and more focused, he was able to see himself. He still looked male. Until he got to his stomach.

It was large. Even bigger than Eve's. How did he miss it before?

No wonder why he was so heavy.

As another shot of pain hits him, he almost collapses to the ground, but he manages to stay on the wall.

He feels something gush out of him, flooding the cold, tiled floor below him. He couldn't do anything but moan and pant.

Adam was so distracted that he didn't even hear the clicking of heels coming towards him. That was until a sharp claw rested under his chin, and forced his head up.

And there was a face he felt so familiar with, but at the same time, couldn't recognise.

His horns were out. They were glowing a bright orange, like they were being heated from the inside. And his eyes matched, glowing as bright as his horns.

His smile was sickeningly wide and almost taunting.

Instead of a white suit, it was black with red accents. Like this room. But even though the man had a look like he was about to devour Adam, the ex human didn't feel threatened. He felt relief.

Lucifer: Hello, pet. If you're done with your little playtime on earth, you may have noticed that our children are ready to be birthed~.

Adam: ...C-Children? H-How ma-any?

Lucifer shrugged, a playful smile on his lips: As many as I want. You didn't please a good case to Heaven, after all. Saying those lies to get little ol' me in trouble~. Hmm... let's say... five children. What a good number!

Adam: F-Five-?! Agh!

Adam gripped his stomach as another cramp paralysed him.

Adam: W-What about- Eve- Cain-?!

Lucifer laughed: Oh yes. You know, I thought it was a little on the nose. First, I thought it was a cute coincidence that your partner was called Eve. You two really were like the first humans! And then, you brought the joke home by naming your son Cain of all things! How cute- really, I mean it! Hmm. How about, these five be caaaalllled... let's see...~.

Adam: L-Lu- agh-! P-please- make it stop hurting!

Lucifer: Shh. Daddy's thinking. How about Abel, Seth, Awan- we'll keep her away from Cain~. Oh, Abel to, come to think of it~. And the other two shall be named Aclima and Eli! See?! We're sticking with the theme!

Lucifer smirked down at Adam who was crying and gripping the wall.

Adam: P-Please... make it stop...

Lucifer's eyes narrowed: And why should I...?

Adam: Y-You... you love me...

Lucifer smirked: ...No, I don't.

Adam's eyes widened amd his blood ran cold.

Lucifer: You can show me how much you love me by giving birth to our five children. And only then will I love you again. I'll forget the betrayal, you siding with Heaven. And you having a child with another.

With a smile, Lucifer held out his hand: Deal~?

Sooo- Adam summoning Lucifer because he wants his girlfriend to get pregnant, but she's infertile. But instead Lucifer cages Adam up, makes him completely overcome by lust 24/7 and is made to birth Lucifer's children?

No one sees him again 🤷

I feel like my kinks are coming a lot...

But anyway. This.

LOL Adam just needing the Devil's dick all the live long day and even dreams about it 😆

-

Adam was looking at the spell book and up at the man in the pentagram that was dressed in a nice suit and tie, whites, reds, and gold accents to pull it all together.

Adam: I feel like I've been tricked somehow.

Lucifer: How do?

Adam: You are the devil right?

Lucifer fixed his tie: Last time I checked. I do have a name you know.

Adam: Lucifer, yeah I'm aware. Look, I'm well aware you're probably busy, torturing souls or whatever down in Hell so I'll get to the point. My girlfriend and I want to have a baby but I guess there's something wrong, lack of eggs or something the doctor spoke in many technical terms. You're all powerful right? You could help her be more fertile?

Lucifer blinked, well this was an odd request: I mean, yeah but don't humans have clinics for this?

Adam: Yeah but do you have any idea how expensive those are? And not a guarantee that we could have a baby. This would be.

The Devil looked the young man over, he couldn't be any older than 27, he was tall with brown hair and honey brown eyes and tan skin. Very attractive for human standards. And he should know, he was in Eden.

Lucifer smirked, he could work this to his advantage.

Lucifer: So, you want me to give you children?

Adam: Yes....?

Was he missing something?

Lucifer: Well, you gotta let me out of the little drawing of yours.~

Adam raised a brow: You can't do it from there?

[loulou-land]

Chicken Noodle Soup for the Heart

Day 2 of @bucktommyfluffebruary | Cooking Together | 1,470 words

It was the kind of day that made staying in feel inevitable. Outside, torrential rain fell against the loft’s windows, its relentless rhythm sounding softened inside the kitchen. Buck was grateful they both had the next 48 hours off—no calls, no alarms, just the luxury of enjoying the bad weather from the warmth of home instead of going against it.  

And Buck could think of nothing better on a day like this than making soup from scratch—something rich, hearty, and comforting. 

He moved instinctively, pulling ingredients from the fridge and pantry, spreading them out on the counter with practiced ease. Taking a step back, he ran through his mental checklist, envisioning how each component would come together to create the perfect chicken noodle soup.  

Over the past couple of years, Buck had come to appreciate the art of cooking, taking pride in the growing repertoire of recipes he’d mastered—many of them learned through trial and error, as well as sheer persistence. He had pestered Bobby until he had every little detail down to a science. 

Now, he could already imagine the depth of the broth, the way the herbs would meld together, the chicken turning perfectly tender, the explosion of flavors in his mouth. A pleased hum escaped him at the thought. 

Which was when Tommy's voice broke through his focus, momentarily reminding him that he wasn't alone in the kitchen. 

“You know there's a can of soup in the pantry, right?” Tommy said, voice laced with amusement. 

Buck stopped. Turned in his direction. Stared. 

Tommy, leaning lazily against the edge of the counter in one of the kitchen chairs, looked entirely unbothered by the deep offense he had just committed. 

“A can?” Buck echoed, as though repeating it out loud would change the fact that his boyfriend had seriously just suggested he heat up canned soup. “Why would I—? You think I’m just gonna—? Tommy.” He shook his head, muttering, “I can't even look at you right now,” before moving to his cutting board, whispering the recipe under his breath like a mantra. Willing himself to ignore the overly amused man watching him from the other side of the kitchen counter. 

Buck was not falling for it again. 

He knew Tommy’s tactics. He loved to rile Buck up when he was in the kitchen, often distracting him from his cooking until it led to wandering hands, panting kisses, loud moans, and eventually—burnt dinner. So no, Buck wasn’t going to let himself get sidetracked this time. 

He soon lost himself in the rhythm of it—chopping onions, heating butter, letting the scent of sauteing vegetables fill the space. A little salt, a little pepper, the start of one of the recipe's components coming to fruition. 

But then—he couldn't ignore it anymore. 

An intense gaze. Like a soft caress running over him. 

He glanced up, catching Tommy watching him with an indefinable expression. Soft. Slightly exasperated. Amused. Fond. 

In love. 

Buck swallowed hard, a flush running up his cheeks and ears. He quickly shifted focus, turning to the pot—stirring with intense concentration. He was just cooking. It wasn't a big deal. 

But the way Tommy was looking at him—like Buck had hung the moon and all the stars just for him—it made him feel unbelievably warm inside. His throat tightened, the onslaught of things wanting to spill through his lips catching in the sudden knot that formed there. Still, the words echoed through him.  I love you. Thank you. I Love You. 

The breakup had left its mark on them both in different ways. Buck’s sometimes manifested in moments like this—in wanting to say it over and over, in wanting to make sure Tommy knew. That he was grateful Tommy had come back, was still here. 

Okay, Buck needed a distraction. 

“Alright,” he announced, clearing his throat. “You're not just gonna stand there watching—I'm putting you to work. If you want soup, you can help.” He placed his hands on his hips with authority. 

Tommy raised an eyebrow at Buck's bratty little stance, lips quirking like they did anytime he acted like that. Buck just knew Tommy was already plotting some kind of retribution for later. He felt a shiver run down his spine but he quickly shook it off. 

Tommy let out a small, amused laugh before stepping up beside him. “Fine. What am I doing, chef?”

Buck’s heart stuttered. The playful nickname wrapped in that special way Tommy always said his name. He cleared his throat. 

“Carrots.” Buck handed him a knife and some whole carrots. “Cut them like this.” He demonstrated, cutting them into tiny, perfectly uniform cubes with quick, even movements. 

Tommy hummed, took hold of the knife—then did absolutely none of that. 

Buck watched in mounting alarm as Tommy hacked his way through the first carrot. The slices were uneven, some too thick, some too thin, one somehow triangular. 

“What—what are you doing?” Buck asked, voice bordering on distressed. 

Tommy barely glanced up, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he butchered another carrot. “Cutting the carrots.”

“Well, they look—” Buck inhaled sharply, letting out a nervous chuckle. “um…artistic.”

Tommy snorted. “Don't backseat cut, Evan.” 

“What—Tommy, that’s not a thing.” 

“It is when you’re breathing down my neck while I wield a knife.” 

“I am guiding you.” 

“You’re hovering.”

Buck clenched his jaw, breathing through the urge to snatch the knife away. He lasted maybe three more seconds, wincing as Tommy whacked the blade against another carrot (why is he whacking at them? Buck thought, horrified) before exhaling sharply and gently shoving Tommy aside with his hip. “Okay, I'll cut the carrots.” 

Tommy threw his head back and laughed, stepping away with his hands up in surrender, as he allowed Buck full control of his kitchen again. 

Buck frowned at him, narrowing his eyes suspiciously when Tommy threw him a wink. 

“Were you butchering them on purpose?” he asked, already working through the rest of the carrots with quick, precise cuts. 

“Not at all,” Tommy said, completely unconvincing. “I was trying my hardest.” His voice was dry as he wiped his hands on a rag, then leaned back against the counter—subtly flexing his muscles at Buck. 

Buck’s lips twitched, before he ducked his head and let himself smile. 

He'd never known love could feel like this. Had never had this with anyone else before. This easy banter, the teasing, the laughter, the way he felt wanted and above all, free to be himself.  

When he looked up again, Tommy was still watching him, smiling happily, the crinkles around his blue eyes, deep and warm. 

“You’re such a liar,” Buck said, voice bright with laughter. 

“Hey, now, those are some serious accusations.” Tommy said in mock offense. 

Buck rolled his eyes fondly before stepping into Tommy’s orbit, pressing a quick kiss to his boyfriend's cleft. 

Tommy caught him by the waist, his hand settling below his chin as he pulled Buck in for a  deeper, softer kiss. Saying his I love you in the way he held Buck close, in the way he kissed him like he was something precious. And Buck said it back with another gentle press of his lips, his fingers curling into Tommy’s sweater. 

Buck sighed happily, then nudged Tommy away with a grin. “Alright, stop being a menace and go wait on over there” he pointed to the chairs “while i finish the soup.”

Tommy hummed, pressing a quick kiss to Buck’s forehead right over his birthmark. “Yes, chef.”

By the time the soup was simmering, warm and rich, Tommy had set the table and opened a bottle of wine. Buck stirred the pot one last time before ladling out two bowls and bringing them to the table. They clinked their glasses together, sharing a look that said how grateful they were for these moments. 

Tommy took one bite and let out a deep, appreciative moan. “This is wonderful, Evan.” 

Buck felt himself flush, both at the compliment and Tommy’s reaction. He ducked his head, stirring his own bowl. “Well, you helped a little.”

Tommy tilted his head, amused. “Oh?”

Buck smiled, lifting his spoon and pointing to the triangular carrot in the broth. 

Tommy stared for a moment before breaking into a grin, something bashful and deeply touched flashing across his face. He reached across the table, catching Buck’s hand in his own before bringing it to his lips, pressing a warm lingering kiss to his knuckles.  

They smiled softly at each other, before they continued eating, slipping into easy conversation—talking about nothing and everything. 

Outside, the rain kept falling. The rest of the world tinged gray, cold and wet.  

But inside, they were bathed in faint yellow lights, their hearts full of warmth and love.

[ngage2003]

Hi I love your mh character analysis posts they are so GOOD, would you be able to do more about Tim pretty please :]

First of all, Thank you :-)! Second of all, yeah I have some things I can say about Tim, though a bit funnily, they are a bit discoordinated compared to some of my other analyses.

After all, out of all the characters in Marble Hornets, Tim Wright is the one we know most about, as his life is laid out for us pretty definitely over the course of the series. Because of this, my focus tends to be on his metaphorical other half, Masky, but I do have some things to say about the two of them and their upbringing, and a few unanswered questions which I will try to satisfactorily put my pen to.

⟦content warning: discussions of child abuse/dangerous households, suicide, hospitals, and wildly off the rails theorycrafting⟧

Alright, so why is Tim a system? This is a question some of you may raise your eyebrow at if you're unfamiliar with DID but stick with me here. We know that Tim only started being taken by the Operator and having seizures in 1995, when he was a child, but over seven years old. (I'll get into how we know this later.) We as a society honestly don't know a lot about Dissociative Identity Disorder and its sisters but one thing we do know is it is caused by extensive stress/trauma inducing dissociation in a extremely young childhood, usually under the age of seven if not even younger, where the mind dissociating from trauma to protect itself causes it to fail to coalesce/develop properly into one identity. That is the main theory behind how DID forms, and given that Tim is only seeming to be extensively exposed to the Operator at seven, but would that be enough for Tim to develop DID? Alex didn't develop it, despite also being hinted at having been exposed to it at the same age.

Note: In enttry #37, we see a home video of Alex at 6 years old in 1991, with heavy Operator distortion implying that it has somehow corrupted this tape and/or was here. This combined with the fact Alex repeatedly goes to a playground to confront/find the Operator in my opinion more or less guarantees that he saw it as a young child. This makes sense especially considering the original "Something Awful" forum pictures in my opinion. Alex's backstory with the Operator basically directly references them, which would make sense since they literally inspired the series.

Granted, you could just hand wave this or go "ok but who cares, they probably weren't even trying to make a character with DID," and yeah, you're right, but I want to actually look at Tim's character and explore his childhood a bit to try to understand it, especially in relation to this fact.

Our main fount of information in relation to Tim's childhood is Entry 66 and Entry 60.5. I am going to start with the latter, for a few very specific reasons.

See, in Entry 60.5, we actually get to see 5 of Tim's medical documents, not just one. This is a fact that is seemingly forgotten a lot by the fandom, and I wanted to get into it for my speculation.

The first document we see though is a Pediatric Admissions Profile from December 12th 1995, followed up by a Pediatric Admissions Assessment of the same year at 11:45 A.M. I do not believe these records are from his institutionalization, but rather a hospital visit that directly proceeded it, one that was probably caused by Tim having a seizure at home and needing to go to the hospital, but lets take this one step at a time.

These Admissions forms explain that Tim's conditions and symptoms at his time of admittance, ones we know well as products of Operator exposure. They also give us a precious piece of information that never comes up again though.

Tim's mom's name.

Janet Wright answers all the questions on the Pediatric Admissions Profile, and it is through her answers that we learn several facts, like that Tim has completed 2nd grade at the time of these papers, (meaning he is probably in 3rd,) and that he is on an anti-convulsant, along with the fact he has a history of falls, apparently needs/has glasses, has emotional barriers to learning, that someone has smoked in the house in the past year, and that Tim lives at home alone with her.

This is something reaffirmed on the PA Assessment, which was probably something that either a nurse or his Psychiatrist filled out by asking Tim himself questions.

Under Category 5., Assistance required for Care, there is a part where it says that for emotional support, "Child relys on: Mother (✓) Father ( ) Sibling ( )". Additionally, it also says asks, "who else besides parents might be staying with child?" Which is answered with a Not Applicable, along with the question, "has your family had any recent changes in your life? (moved, divorce, birth, death, new job, etc.)" Which is also answered with a no.

It continues, and we learn from it that Tim has poor orientation to time along with his chronic headaches, as well as signs and symptoms of depression, as well as that he struggles to engage with peers his age and doesn't have/begin hobbies.

Most importantly though, it is mentioned that his condition isn't affected by his household, which could refer to simply his seizures, but I think is important to mention given his depressive symptoms. At least in this moment, it doesn't seem like to the person doing the assessment that Tim is depressed due to his mom.

(Though that can be hard to pick up on but regardless.)

We also learn that he experiences high risk on a Fall Assessment Scale, as he is checked off as "confused, disoriented, hallucinating, combative," and having a history of "syncope, seizures,"—which is underlined—"postural hypotension".

I believe he only really started to have seizures this year though, as it is mentioned under "Plan of Care" that he ran away from home two "somethings" ago before being found at Rosswood, which I believe to be weeks or months. (If it was two years, why still mention it here?) I don't think that Tim ran away though, but rather, was taken and teleported by the Operator and Operatortured, an event that left him having chronic seizures. After all, despite Jay being exposed to the Operator for years, we only see him begin to have those only after the Operator snatches him in Entry 72. I think this snatching/possible Operatorture is key in it inducing/beginning to induce seizures.

Moving on though, two of the next three documents are from the same day, with both being from 7/8/02.

The first (Delayed Therapy Communication Form) that we are shown being filled out at 15:10 or 3:10 PM, and the second being an assessment (Suicide/Self-Harm Assessment Tool) that was filled out at 8:45 in the morning, probably by hospital staff in preparation for therapy later in the day. On the latter, Tim was left with a rather high suicide risk score, and a comment of supposedly untrustworthy answers.

There is a document that Jay reads sandwiched between these two though, from 1/10/Year Redacted. It is a Brief Operative Progress Note, about a procedure seemingly in relation to an unmedical wound with a ton of redacted information, and based on placement and the fact "Hoody" purposefully arranged the papers like this, I believe he was trying to imply to Jay that this was a suicide attempt by Tim at the start of 1996, which led to his hospitalization.

-

Wow. Ok. That was a lot. Let's summarize and break down the facts though.

At the end of 1995, Tim Wright is being raised by his single mother, Janet Wright, with it being unclear if his dad was ever in the picture. Tim was probably in 3rd grade at the end of 1995, which puts him at around eight to nine years old. At this point, he seemingly had a history of seizures, but around this time he also started showing symptoms of depression, hallucinations and even supposedly "ran away" from home at one point.

It seems like Hoody, based on how he organized these papers, seems to want us to think that at the start of 1996, Tim had either a suicide attempt, or a violent episode that could've been misconstrued as a suicide attempt.

Note: Personally, I think it was misconstrued. I say this because well, we know how the Operator can warp reality, and in Entry 66 Tim says, "My mom [sent me inpatient] when I was really young, but she never told me exactly why," and that the doctors seemingly gossiped about the fact he had violent episodes and hallucinations which led to him being institutionalized, which he doesn't remember. Of course, maybe Tim was just lying to Jay and leaving stuff out, but based on the rest of this scene and everything else he says, I find that unlikely. I think it is possible that Masky tried to defend himself and Tim from the Operator and got hurt in the process, and due to his lack of verbality and strange/differing behavior from Tim's, it was interpreted as a violent and/or suicidal episode cause by a hallucination. Either way, none of this does align with the fact the wound is "clean," but that could be more about it not being infected and/or recent than a clean cut.

Either way, after this, in conjunction with advice from doctors and the stress of caring for a mentally ill child and hospital visits/bills, Janet Wright admitted Tim into inpatient care.

It is after this point, (based on dialogue from Entry 66,) that we know Tim sort of fell out with his mother, as she "wasn't really around" for him to ask things. I can't say why she distanced herself from him, and honestly that is where my sympathy runs dry for her, but we know based on what Tim doesn't say that he more or less didn't have any family. His mother was probably raising him on her own, and her decision to put him inpatient probably had to do with the fact she just couldn't care for him and genuinely thought it would be better/safer.

Ok. Cool. Unfortunately, still none of this answers the question as to why Tim is a system. Based on all this supplementary evidence though, I do have two kind of routes/ideas I could see as possible/likely which I want to share, so pick your poison.

A】 Janet Wright was neglectful, either by accident or on purpose.

Neglect can cause DID, especially severe emotional neglect causing a disruption in child development, and if Tim's dad was never in the picture, along with the stresses of being a single mom, it could be hard for Ms Wright to meet Tim's needs. Maybe she didn't even want to be a parent, but found out she was pregnant to late, and so decided to "give it a shot."

The real mold in the juice box for this theory though is the fact that Tim's medical records (Pediatric Admission Assessment, Page 2, 6. Abuse/Neglect/Exploitation Screen) answers no to "evidence of neglect by caretakers." Granted however, this is when Tim is in 3rd grade, and it can be hard to always pick up on emotional neglect. Perhaps it could be misconstrued as depressive symptoms for example, and Tim's issues with starting hobbies and connecting with peers could be due to him not being properly socially met/developed growing up, but honestly I am unsure how I fully feel about this theory.

What it comes down to is just that, besides knowing she smokes regularly, we don't know much about Janet Wright, and while she fell out of touch with Tim, that could be for literally any number of reasons. Demonizing her or deifying her both kind of make me grimace. Maybe she blames herself for his condition and her guilt drives her away, and after a while she felt it would be wrong of her to go back after abandoning Tim in the first place. Maybe she just never wanted a kid and took the option to ditch him. The point I am getting at is we just don't know.

Which is what brings me to theory two.

B】 Tim's dad was in some way abusive, causing Janet to leave him to protect Tim but leaving him with trauma.

It would explain why Tim's dad isn't in the picture in a way that feels concrete, and why Tim never tried to reach out to his dad's side along with why he has DID. Maybe too, if Janet was in an abusive relationship, that somehow got in the way of her reaching out to her side of the family, which is why Tim never did either and why she didn't have any help for raising him and dealing with his conditions.

I don't really have much to say on this one either, but it would explain why there isn't direct evidence of neglect along with why his mom isn't blamed for his depressive symptoms by the doctor and why Tim said in his Assessment that he relies on his mom for emotional support. That is because he does, but they were just unfortunately in a situation for a while where he couldn't properly get it.

Sure, she probably isn't perfect, but in this reading she does care for him, and did try to get him a better life.

I think this would especially make sense when you consider the fact that Masky, Tim's protector alter, has a feminine presentation.

Often alters formed in especially early youth will take heavy direct inspiration from their environment, especially parents. Maybe since Tim's mom did protect him some of the time and eventually got him away from his dad, this idea of her and by extension femininity as a whole being this unstoppable, almost deified force of nature stuck with him on a subconscious level. She was fierce and seemed impenetrable, especially to a little kid who idolizes their caregiver in the face of abuse, and I think that influenced why Tim's brain made a protector like Masky that is simultaneously feminine aligned out of the blue and so aligned with defending people/defensive violence.

Because yes, Masky is violent, and often they do threaten/attack Alex with "Hoody," but that could easily be because they remember the fact Alex attacked them in Entry 56/57 along with stuff like the fact "Hoody" most likely told them about how Alex killed him and needs to be taken care of. They know Alex is dangerous, and so a lot of their actions are protective or in an attempt to save other people.

Like, in Entry 35, their motives can be hard to read, yes, but if they just wanted to fight someone they could have easily gone for Jay instead of running past him to get Alex. I actually think they could've easily been waiting here because they knew Alex was following Jay and this was the last place Jay was, and they wanted to stop Alex from getting to him because he could (and literally does) try to kill Jay. Along with this incident, they stop Alex from shooting Jay and Jessica in Entry 52, and seemingly distract him while those two escape and drive away to safety. They also act to protect/save Jessica from the Operator and Alex with Hoody in Entry 76. They also seemingly only stop directly working with Hoody after he hurts Tim, i.e. causing him to have a seizure to trigger them out, which Masky seeming to sever their partnership over.

Listen, there's no answer as to why Masky is feminine, and maybe there doesn't need to be, but based on how DID works and Masky's general behavior, to me it is obvious that they took subconscious inspiration from something, and I think it could be how their mom protected them and Tim.

Note: This is not to say Masky and Tim have a maternal/parental relationship, even if Masky is partially based on their mom in an abstract sense. In my opinion, they have a relationship almost similar to like, how siblings will go through trauma together and be bonded by that fact because they wholly understand what the other person is going through, or how a slightly older child might try to take care of a younger one and be parent-ified but still while not holding the authority and control of a parent, though obviously different because they're a system. I guess my main point though is that they're equals, and Masky loves Tim very much. Masky does have some power over Tim because they cause amnesia when they front during traumatic episodes and accidentally puts him in danger sometimes, but ultimately they have a more push-pull relationship to me, even if Tim isn't aware of it. Because, even if Masky does front sometimes, Tim is usually the one in control almost all of the time. But really that's another post I could make lmao.

Either way, whatever way you think Tim got DID, one thing is clear. His life fucking sucks.

-

If you want my personal belief on what his childhood is like, taken with a bit of salt, I don't think Janet Wright is purely innocent, (she could've very easily been incidentally neglectful given the vagueness of the circumstances,) but I do think that Tim's dad could have been a shithead if only because of how it parallels my Alex headcanons and I like that, along with Masky being based on their mom aesthetically to some extent.

(As a system, I loveee system weirdness.)

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed.

[00valentina-writes00]

Abby w reader with ocd?

✞⛧ Abby with a girlfriend that has OCD ✞⛧

Warnings: I don’t have ocd, so if I got smth wrong or it’s offensive please tell me-

✞⛧ Abby notices before you ever say anything. The way you check the door multiple times before leaving, how your fingers hover over objects like you’re making sure they’re just right, the way your breathing changes when something feels off. She doesn’t say anything at first—just watches, takes note.

✞⛧ She doesn’t think it’s inconvenient, just… something to understand. Abby’s all about problem-solving, so when she realizes this isn’t something she can just fix for you, it frustrates her—not at you, but at how powerless she feels when she sees you struggling.

✞⛧ At first, she’s not sure what to do. She’s used to tangible problems—wounds she can stitch, enemies she can fight. This? This is different. But she’s patient. She listens. She learns.

✞⛧ Abby never gets annoyed at you. She gets annoyed at the way the world isn’t built for the way your mind works. When people rush you, when they make careless comments—that’s when you see her jaw clench, her grip tighten.

✞⛧ She figures out pretty quickly what makes things easier for you. If you have to check the door before leaving, she stands next to you, silent, never rushing. If things need to be in a certain order, she respects it. If she moves something by accident, she fixes it before you even notice.

✞⛧ If you have compulsions that hurt—scratching, picking, repeating actions until your skin is raw—Abby’s hands are right there to stop you, firm but gentle. She never shames you for it, just takes your hands in hers, rubs slow circles into your palms, reminds you to breathe.

✞⛧ She gets really good at grounding you. If you’re stuck in a spiral, she doesn’t say stop—she gives you something else to focus on. “Come here,” she’ll say, pulling you against her. “Tell me three things you can hear. Two things you can feel.” She keeps her voice steady, calm.

✞⛧ When you apologize—because you always do—she shakes her head. “Don’t. You don’t have to be sorry for this.” And she means it.

✞⛧ She hates when people treat you like you’re difficult because of it. If someone makes a snide comment about how long something takes, Abby’s right there with a glare that could shut down an entire conversation.

✞⛧ If routines help you, Abby builds them into her life like it’s second nature. You eat the same breakfast every morning? Guess who’s making sure it’s stocked. You need to wash your hands a certain way? She learns the pattern, does it with you sometimes.

✞⛧ When she catches you trying to hide it—masking, forcing yourself to act normal—it kills her. “You don’t have to do that with me,” she tells you one night, voice softer than usual. “You don’t have to pretend.”

✞⛧ If a compulsion is making you late, she doesn’t rush you. Doesn’t sigh, doesn’t roll her eyes, doesn’t make you feel guilty. She just waits. If you’re gonna be late, she figures, then you’ll be late together.

✞⛧ The first time she sees you have a breakdown over it—when the frustration, the exhaustion, the sheer weight of it all crashes down on you—she just holds you. Doesn’t try to fix it, doesn’t try to rationalize. Just lets you be.

✞⛧ She picks up on the things that trigger you before you even have to say them. Clutter? Uncertainty? The wrongness of something being out of place? She notices, and she does something about it.

✞⛧ If intrusive thoughts hit you hard, she’s the one grounding you back to reality. “It’s just a thought,” she reminds you, voice steady. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

✞⛧ When she learns that reassurance-seeking is part of it, she doesn’t mind repeating herself. “Yes, I locked the door.” “Yes, you turned the oven off.” “Yes, I love you.” She’ll say it a hundred times if it helps

✞⛧ She understands that it’s not just about being “neat” or “particular.” It’s not a quirk. She gets that. She takes it seriously.

✞⛧ If something feels wrong to you, she doesn’t dismiss it. She doesn’t say “it’s fine” or “just let it go.” If it matters to you, it matters to her.

✞⛧ She lets you explain things in your own time. She never pushes. Just listens. Always listens.

✞⛧ If you ever start spiraling in public, she subtly shifts into protector mode. Keeps you close, blocks out the noise, finds a quiet place if you need it.

✞⛧ She makes an effort to understand the science behind it. Reads about it. Asks questions. Not because she thinks she can fix you, but because she wants to know you.

✞⛧ When you feel like your mind is your worst enemy, she’s the one reminding you that you’re so much more than this.

✞⛧ She knows when you need space and when you need her. She never takes it personally if you need to be alone for a while.

✞⛧ She has this way of making you feel safe in your own head, even when it’s the last place you want to be.

✞⛧ If you get stuck in a loop, she finds little ways to break it—changing the subject, cracking a joke, touching you. A hand on your back, a thumb brushing over your knuckles, something to pull you out of it.

✞⛧ She never lets you think you’re a burden. Not once. Not ever. “You don’t have to do this alone,” she tells you, and she means it.

✞⛧ Abby doesn’t love you despite your OCD. She just loves you. All of you. The way you think, the way you are. And if the world makes things harder for you? Then she’ll stand between you and the world, teeth bared, always.

[kreoleky]

Finance Reading ✨💸💶

Pile 1

Okay Pile 1 so the messages I am receiving regarding your finances for right now are that spirit wants you to leave certain financial habits in the past. Specifically with overspending because with this 5 of Pentacles and 3 of Wands, you may have a bad habit of overindulging in things and it causes you to be at a loss. You could be in some sort of financial debt that you are trying to get out of, but what I am hearing is that you won’t be able to get out of debt if you keep unnecessarily digging a deeper hole for yourself. However with this Death card and the 3 of Wands Spirit wants you to make new moves and decisions in order to have a fresh start with your finances. For example, whenever you do get any new money, that’s an opportunity to put it towards any overdue bills instead of recklessly spending it on frivolous things. Another thing is to stop giving out money to people and things when you know you don’t have it or knowing that money could go towards something you’re dealing with at the moment or even just your savings. Learn to spend your money more wisely, because what I am hearing is that Spirit is not going to keep saving you or giving you more chances with your finances if you’re just going to keep wasting the opportunities. Especially when you choose to spend money on things that do not benefit you long term as there is just a sense of temporary happiness. In order to be more stable financially you need to start thinking about the long term effects of your actions. Some things can wait, learn to decipher your wants and your needs. There will always be another or better opportunity for that “want”. You may even end up not caring for the things that you could have impulsively bought, meaning you could have pocketed the money you spent on something impulsively. Spend money on things that are a genuine investment, put more focus on the “later” rather than the “now”. Also when making purchases get things that will last, I’m specifically getting the example of get a hairstyle that will last. You could spend $200-$300 on a hairstyle that can last you a few weeks rather than a hairstyle that will only last you a few days. Spirit also knows that you are able to make your money stretch. Even when it comes to self maintenance with hair, nails, makeup etc. There are cheaper alternatives that you can look to that will maintain the same look. Invest your time into learning how to make things work for you. Even when you do want to treat yourself pick one day out the week instead of splurging on multiple days throughout the week. I am also picking up on the fact that you need to check your transactions, you don’t realize how much things really add up. Try to Budget things out, and something that can also be helpful is every-time you spend money, put some money into your savings as well. The same money that you spend, you could spend half of that amount and put the other half in your savings. You could look into ways that your money could work for you by doing your research on different types of accounts, to where your money grows overtime just by letting it sit there. You spend a lot of time online, so you could be online looking into different resources that could help you grow financially. An emphasis on investments.

Sending your energies back with love and light 💌 .

Pile 2

okay pile 2, So, what I'm getting is that you probably have some past conflict with your finances. Whether that would be with somebody or with yourself, maybe you have some type of issues with your bank is what I'm getting or I'm also hearing something with like schooling or some type of company, because I'm not necessarily getting it has to be with the one specific person, but maybe like an establishment, but you know, like in the business world they classify you as the person or the party etc. Moving on, I think you're kind of accepting that you're gonna take your loss, because you have put up a fight, but I also feel like you're gonna be moving on from it, because I don't think the loss is a major loss. It's more so just like, I keep hearing like a lesson learnt on what to do next time.

But with this eight of wands and this nine of wands, I do feel like you're gonna be making progress towards making better money moves and just doing moves to where money can start flowing in more frequently for you. But I think you are going to be more cautious of how you do things, basically not being too lackadaisical with your money, especially when it's money that kind of has to do with something about your record with how you keep up with things Because with this ace of wands, I think you do want to take movements towards something but you also know that you have to make newer moves to get newer things and leave other things in the past. don't be so careless about things because you might have just felt comfortable with knowing how you were with your money or just comfortable in the fact that you don't feel like you would ever have to deal with issues of like, maybe that specific party or entity that you did have to deal with. But I think moving forward, you all are just gonna be cautious, not scared, but very much more alert and aware of what you’re doing and looking at your money. I do see like some of y'all may be starting some type of business. So I would definitely say look more into that because money could be flowing in from that quickly as long as you're consistent because with the five of wands, it doesn't have to mean conflict, but it could just mean putting up a fight and putting in the efforts to maintain something because I also feel like the five of wands is about putting your guard down, standing on business. I do feel like you could just be at conflict with yourself as far as making sure that you're on things instead of being so comfortable, relaxed and lackadaisical with people and with past decisions regarding your finances. I see around like spring time or summer your money's definitely gonna be coming in quickly or you're gonna be seeing the growth and the progress of whatever you decide to do financially, especially if some of you are starting a new business specifically. What I'm also hearing is be patient with yourself and don’t feel like you’re in a rush. When you slow down and think things through, that's when you get the best out of everything. don't be so impulsive about everything. things will come as they need to. You just have to trust in the divine, trust in the universe , trust in God, or whoever you believe in. I think you all would be straight wish your money just don't be lackadaisical, be on things and don't let people walk all over you either. heavy on if you need to put up a fight with certain things, do that, because I'm also hearing, maybe even Bill collectors and stuff for like a tenant, something like that, if you know that you're only supposed to pay a certain amount, don't let people try to cheat you out and make you pay more just because you have it, it doesn't mean that you have to spend it. If you're smart enough, if you're really business savvy, you can do a lot of negotiating is what I'm hearing as well. You don't always have to jump for the first option. Just sit and negotiate. I'm also hearing if any of you all with a business, when you come to contracts concerning legal documents and agreements, start reviewing those instead of just being like, I accept or I agree, because you might look over something that you could possibly negotiate to go into your favor, in the future.

Sending your energies back with love and light 💌 .

Pile 3

Okay Pile 3, I see that you all have taken a major loss financially. Maybe a few of you have lost your jobs which could have caused you all to start dipping into your savings. This has caused some of you to be constantly digging a deeper hole. For others you all are just not where you want to be financially. Some of your moods could have been affected because you all feel a little broke right now. Since you all lost so much money it’s a feeling of being uncomfortable that you all are facing, that feeling of instability. However, some of you do like to gamble, especially if you place bets on sports often. I’m hearing more so over the holiday time. This is a habit that needs to stop if you want to grow financially.

Moving forward I do see you all being able to make a major comeback with the King of Wands and King of Cups. You all will be making wiser decisions when it comes to your finances, I think you all have had a lot of time to reflect on your actions and the consequences so it serves as motivation to make better decisions in the future. Some of you had to go through this major loss in order to change your habits since you were so used to having luck whenever you did indulge in things like gambling. Now for those of you who have lost your jobs or didn’t get the position that you wanted, I do see with this Magician here that you all can make ends meet for the time being. I also see that you all will be making big business moves in the future. There are bigger and better opportunities for you.

Once you all get emotionally in tuned with yourselves and stop making irrational decisions with your money things will begin to look better. You all will be moving very carefully and calculated with your finances, where you put your money towards and more particular about who you do business with. Stop doing business with friends, it’s not in your favor if you haven’t fully grasped that idea yet. Some of you have a lot of skills. I’m picking up more of a masculine energy from this collective. Some of you all can still be women though it doesn’t matter.

You all could probably have a skill set that you all either neglected or just haven't put as much effort into, but if you all use your skills, you can literally get right back on track. I'm not going to say it's going to be easy, but if you put the work in, you’ll get there, you all will definitely be having a lot coming in because with the magician you manifest things, a magician is a jack of all traits. you can have multiple side hustles, everything but, you need to stop having multiple people in your business and start having multiple businesses is what I'm hearing. multiple skills, multiple businesses, multiple streams of income, so stop being so dependent on one thing or outsiders, literally. When you start being a bit more independent with your approach to money, things will start looking better for you. Some of you could work with your hands a lot whether that be at a warehouse or just manual labor in general like construction work. If not that I see that some of you could be nail techs, do hair, lashes, makeup, bake, cook, or even being a masseuse. Some of you are definitely entrepreneurs. Honing in on these skills that you have can help you recover from this financial loss that you have faced.

Sending your energies back with love and light 💌 .

Pile 4

Okay Pile 4, So some of you all may have been caught up with bills and managing your money however you all did get it together! The crown may tilt, but it never falls. With the Six of Swords and Two of Pentacles reversed you all were juggling a lot of responsibilities. You did get on your zoom and now you’re establishing how to handle your different financial obligations. I do see some new opportunities coming in for you like a raise or bonus at work, some networking opportunities etc. Just be careful for whenever you do receive this new opportunity, do not get tempted to irrationally spend money just because you got it. It’s always better to save for a rainy day.

Sending your energies back with love and light 💌 .

[bajibitch]

Silly me - Clark Kent

"Your name?" The receptionist’ voice pulled you out of the shock you felt being at the infamous Daily Planet. You managed to say your name but it came out a bit shaky and he let out a soft chuckle. "You'll fit in great." The space you'd be working in was small like you expected but seeing the surrounding work spaces was a bit intimidating. It was easy to get distracted picking up pieces of the stories they chatted about but the dizziness that came with it was enough to remind you to focus. Where would you start, how was it that people found stories again?

“First day?” Looking up from your desk, you met a pair of enchanting blue eyes on a beautiful face. The smile he wore didn’t make it any easier to turn away. Your face was hot from the lack of preparedness, hopefully, he didn’t think you were forming a crush, it’d be embarrassing, he’d be right but you wouldn’t admit it.

“Is it obvious?” You thought you were playing it off well given that you managed to type out an exaggerated amount of the food article with little effort. “What am I doing wrong?” Surely an employee wouldn’t interrupt your work for nothing, or so you thought.

“Nothing, you seem to have it handled.” He eyed the screen with your nearly complete work. “I’m still cramming in yesterday's story.” His laugh was going to be in your mind later. Although it was short it managed to sound so wholesome and warming in the small time it had. “It’s just, I've never seen you around before.” His arm was resting on the computer monitor, if he was anyone else it would’ve irked you but he had good intentions so you’d ignore it for now.

“I started today, used to work at a different company in Oklahoma.“

“How was it there?” You considered offering him a chair to sit in since it felt as if he planned on hearing your life story.

“Given that it was my first job in journalism it’ll always have a special place in my heart, but I wanted to be somewhere more interesting.”

“You didn’t catch any stories?”

“Nothing worth mentioning, I did an article on food and the impacts of-” Nothing worth mentioning but I’ll list every one. You put a hand to your forehead as you cursed yourself for not catching the prattling sooner.

“Why’d you stop?” He took a glance around the office and stared back at you. “Something wrong?”

“No,” you sighed and went back to typing out your work. “I just have to finish this.”

“I’ll be out your hair then. It was nice meeting you… I didn’t catch your name.”

“I didn’t get yours either.”

“Clark. Clark Kent.” You stopped your typing and locked eyes with him once again.

“Y/n.”

“Well, y/n, I’ll catch you later.”

The strange thing for you is that usually when people tell you that, they never meant it. It was more like an, I’ll see you should we meet again kinda ordeal, not a follow you out of the office kinda thing.

“What is it, Clark?” You turned to see him not too far behind. His suit seemed a tad too big for him but it added a soft look to him.

“Just checking in on you. How’d you feel about the job? It’s not too much is it?”

“You aren’t from here either, are you?” He tilted his head and his lips parted but nothing came out. “You’re nicer than plenty of the people I’ve met so far. Some of them get irritated from my smile alone.” That’s why you learned to hold a poker face, the city lost its charm rather quickly when you arrived. His shoulders dropped and his lips had its default curve that made him sweet on the eyes.

“I used to live out in the country too, but as much as they tried, they could never break my smile.” Oh, you had to admit by now that he was hard to hate, not that you ever did. His spirit was almost contagious, the smile on your face showing he already infected you, maybe a harmless work crush wouldn’t be bad after all.

“Ready to go?” The both of you turned to the woman who needed no introduction, her work spoke for itself, she was a bit of a celebrity herself. You were shocked to see him kiss her with no hesitation and looked away from the affection. It was clear he had no qualms with showing his love.

“See you, tomorrow.” Fuck my life. When you buckled yourself into the seat and began to drive away, you couldn’t help laughing at how naïve you were to think he wouldn’t be in a relationship.

[tklpilled]

your sweet red rose

riddle likes to stick to a routine. it’s simpler that way, no surprises or unexpected turns. he knows exactly how things are supposed to be and he makes sure they stay that way. the other students are well aware of this; it's why they try to stay out of his way, although he thinks it's more out of fear of what he'll do to them, rather than actually caring about his schedule. he’s stuck to the same routine since freshman year, only tweaking it a bit once he became housewarden.

somehow, inexplicably, floyd leech has wormed his way into that strict routine.

it took some getting used to, of course. walking to his usual study corner in the library only to see the most annoying person he’s ever known wasn’t exactly pleasant, even less so when said annoying person began sneaking into his room, too. but part of what makes floyd so damn irritating is that riddle’s threats always seem to bounce off of him, and of course, he can’t do much more than threaten, considering floyd’s signature spell. so riddle is stuck with him. it isn’t consistent. floyd shows up whenever he wants. riddle has learned to stop caring so much, or else his blood pressure would constantly be skyrocketing.

riddle is in his bedroom, homework papers splayed across his bed as he works through them. floyd sits beside him, practically coiled around riddle’s body with his face nestled in the crook of his neck.

riddle doesn’t pay him any attention, now long used to his antics. at least, he doesn’t, up until there’s a warm and sharp feeling at his collarbone.

“no,” says riddle, poking floyd’s head with the tip of his pen. “you’re not biting me.”

floyd whines like a child, squeezing riddle tighter. “why not? it won’t hurt…”

“human bites can be very dangerous,” riddle says, still not looking up, “and i can’t imagine how that translates to someone like you, considering your teeth are sharper and you’re not fully human anyway. i need to be in top shape, you know.”

floyd grumbles, untangling himself from riddle’s body. “yeah, whatever.” he crawls down towards riddle’s legs, sitting on the bed next to them. he tilts his head, examining them curiously. “so weird…” he trails a finger down the back of riddle’s leg. “what's it like?”

“hm?”

“having legs.”

“...you have legs,” riddle points out, finally looking over at him.

floyd shrugs. “but they're different. they aren't as real as yours.” he runs a finger down the leg again. “so? tell me.”

goosebumps raise over riddle’s skin at the featherlight touch. “i’m really not sure what you're asking. they feel the same as yours, i’d assume. stop that.” the last part is accompanied with a tiny kick as floyd repeats the action for a third time.

“huh? goldfishie is ticklish?”

“what?” riddle stiffens up so subtly that it's barely noticeable. it wouldn’t be noticeable to anyone not watching him as closely as floyd is. “no. just stop it, i'm trying to focus.” he's trying to change the subject, but really, he knows it's useless. there's an unspoken rule when it comes to tickling, one that riddle despises; if an individual says they aren't ticklish, one must test it for themselves. plus, once something has caught floyd’s attention, there's no distracting him until he loses interest.

even so, he doesn't expect the feeling of knuckles pressing into both his sides at once. his body spasms, accidentally throwing his pen onto the floor and scattering his papers as he makes an embarrassingly loud noise. he whips his head around to glare at floyd, who simply grins back.

“d-don't do that!” riddle scolds, sitting up so he can begin to reorganise his papers. he rubs at his side to try and get rid of the lingering tingles.

“but i wanna tickle you.”

huh?! riddle freezes, feeling the familiar sensation of his face turning pink, but this time not induced by rage. he turns to look at floyd, the room growing suddenly warm. “you—! i don't want you to!”

floyd pouts. “why not?”

“b-because…!” riddle stumbles over his words. “i'm busy right now!”

“you're busy?” echoes floyd, curling back around riddle's body as he lays back down. “so i can tickle you when you're done?”

damn it. riddle squeezes the pen in his hand, pointedly looking at his paper and nowhere else. “...fine.” he regrets the words even before they leave his mouth, and floyd’s look of pure excitement does nothing to help.

as it turns out, riddle should have let floyd do what he wanted to begin with. because now he’s teasing him, just centimetres away from touching him, and it might just be worse than the tickling itself.

“you’re gettin’ all twitchy around here,” floyd says, mostly to himself, his hand hovering around riddle’s midsection. “this a bad spot?” he giggles, wiggling his fingers in the air as he approaches and stops just before touching riddle’s side. “azul’s real ticklish here too, you know. and jade—” he moves towards riddle’s neck, and the housewarden scrunches up his shoulders even though there’s nothing actually there, “right here. i wanna see how you compare to them.”

riddle doesn’t respond to any of it, though he can feel his face burning as he tries desperately to focus. it’s getting hard to remember the answers when there’s nothing but ticklish thoughts running through his mind.

it takes a few minutes longer to finish than it should.

riddle is tempted to keep going; keep writing down something, even just random scribbles, anything that will postpone his demise. at the same time, though, the anticipation is killing him. he thinks the tickling would be more bearable than this.

so he sets his pen down, sighs, and turns to look at floyd. he tries to ignore the burning under his skin.

“...i’m done.”

floyd’s reflexes are terrifyingly fast. riddle blinks and suddenly he’s face-up on his bed, floyd settled happily atop his hips. he giggles as he looks down.

“goldfishie’s cute when he blushes.”

riddle grumbles, covering his face with his hands. “just hurry and get this over with!”

he doesn’t have time to feel embarrassed about his plea before floyd’s sharp nails are scribbling all over; his neck, his stomach, his sides, and riddle is suddenly laughing harder than he remembers ever laughing before. which, quite honestly, isn’t a high bar to rise above, given that he hasn’t had much to laugh about at all throughout his life—but still.

“stop, stohohop!” he cries, head thrown back as his hands find their way to floyd’s wrists. he’s always been incredibly ticklish, and floyd is one of the last people he ever wanted to find out—but now that it’s happened, he doesn’t hate it as much as he wants to.

and he does want to hate it. this is so…unbecoming of him; as a housewarden, as valedictorian, as a subject of the queen, but…as he laughs, he feels lighter than he has in years.

floyd’s eyes are practically sparkling. “i’ve never heard ya laugh so much before!” he exclaims, scratching at riddle’s lower ribs and making him cackle, so free, so undignified. it’s too out of place.

riddle hiccups between laughs, fits of giggles spilling out uncontrollably. “ihihi—i demand you stohop thihis!” he wants to cringe at how wobbly his voice sounds.

“eh?” floyd pouts, not letting up on his attack for even a moment. “but goldfishie promised i could tickle him…are you going back on that?” as if to reprimand, he tickles a little harder, veering on the edge of painful and way too ticklish. “that’s gotta go against one of your dumb rules.”

in a normal situation, this is the part where riddle would begin to scold; the queen’s rules, however foolish they may sound, are all important and to be respected. if he could, he would; but right now, he lacks the ability to speak more than a few words without crumbling to giggles once again.

“where's goldfishie most ticklish, huh?” floyd asks, skittering his fingers up and down riddle's sides. “‘cause it looks like you're just ticklish everywhere. what about here?” he reaches to pinch above riddle’s kneecaps, and riddle squeals and kicks and laughs and not much more, because there’s not much more he can do.

“i-i don’t knohohow!” riddle confesses, hands pressed over his face to hide and muffle himself. he’s been tickled before, but only briefly. he had no way of knowing how bad it would be.

floyd barks out a laugh at this, the sound intertwining with riddle’s for a second. “you don’t know? does that mean i get to tickle you ‘til i find it?” he flashes a sharp, dangerous grin, crawling under riddle’s arms.

“no, it does nohot!” yelps riddle, arms shooting down to protect himself. “st-stop it, i cahan’t take it! plehehease!”

he’s not normally the type to beg, but this entire situation is making him desperate and his nerves feel more alight with each touch. he tries to grab at floyd’s wrists, to push him away, hoping he’ll get bored and focus on literally anything else. being floyd’s victim isn’t anything he’s not used to, but this is new and he isn’t sure how he’s supposed to handle it.

it’s not long before his grip slackens, lashes growing damp as his strength is all but sapped out of him.

it takes a while to realise that the tickling has stopped.

he blinks his eyes open, deep and heavy breaths making his chest rise and fall, interrupted by stray residual laughs. he looks up, mismatched eyes meeting his. floyd’s hands are off of him now, but he’s still situated atop riddle’s thighs, not letting him move.

floyd giggles. “you’re real fun to play with.”

riddle can almost feel the heat rushing to his already warm face. “d-don’t tell a soul about this,” he hisses, “not a single person.”

“hm? ‘course i won’t.” floyd pokes riddle’s stomach one last time, as if the ensuing squeak is the punctuation at the end of his sentence. “teasing goldfishie is my job.”

[tactical-jellyfish]

The Mistakes That Have Been Made

Part 2.5 (bonus for the people. I think you guys need some good soup, from moi <3)

Warnings!: Angst, angst, and more angst. Reader will be MAD sad for most of this. Poorly-practiced, unhealthy polyamory. Reader will experience a LOT of gender and body dysphoria over the course of this (though I will do my best to keep it gender-neutral throughout, bear with me), but there WILL be comfort over that.

The team dynamics of the 141 have always been messy, ugly things, but this is ugly. You wouldn't wish it on anyone, really.

When you'd walked back to your own room, you'd heard Soap railing the daylights out of Gaz, cussing your name beneath his breath as the other sergeant groaned, high and throaty.

As awful as this feels, at least he's not doing that to you.

Johnny's always been a bit of a... rough bed partner, you know that, he's so eager to get into the heat of it that he never gives himself the time to warm up or cool down. Tends to be so enthusiastic that he doesn't offer much aftercare before he falls asleep, either.

Still, walking past Gaz's room brings back memories of that nasty, sick feeling that follows every intimate experience you've ever had.

It's the feeling that your body is somehow wrong, too tight in some parts and too loose in others, like the very existence of your form is a contradiction that just can't stand a second longer.

The way you hold your laptop shifts, pressing the metal into your chest to somehow remedy this ill. How? You're not sure. It doesn't work very well.

You try to shake it off as you open your door and sit on your bed, but the moans still breach your walls.

God, since when did Gaz sound like that? It feels like it's choking the air out of the room.

You put your best effort toward minding your own business, but you felt like you were losing your mind a half-hour into that endeavor, and instead thumped your fist on the wall, loud enough to send the message. Learning how to sign and trying to ignore... that was simply not a feasible task.

The moaning and creaking stops shortly after, and the sigh you heave is like no others, though you know damn well those two will definitely be pissy with you tomorrow.

Finally.

Plastic buzzing against the "wood" of your nightstand (shitty plywood painted white, as is standard issue) draws your focus away from that, if only for a second.

Heyhey! Do u wanna train together tmrw?? I think you'd do good if you took it easy w/me 😊 <33

The rubber and plastic of your case isn't all that comfortable in your hands, but you hold the magical little glass box in your hands anyway, peering down at the screen before chuckling to yourself.

Why should I?

Is your reply. It doesn't strike you that it might have been a bit on the nose, or that Gary might have read it differently, until the text bubble appears and disappears several times in a row, and you re-read it.

Oh no, you sound like an absolute asshole.

Sorry. I do want to, I just wanted to tease.

He's typing for another few seconds, before the bubble disappears one more time, and it starts to make you panic. More than you want to be panicking over him.

Don't be mad please, I'm sorry. I want to train with you.

How the mighty have fallen.

Look at you, desperately prostrating yourself before a rookie because you're absolutely moronic, praying that he'll offer you a reply. Whatever happened to four times the love?

Fuck. Don't think about that.

im not mad, ur fine just thought you might be a little grouchy from the meds or smth, wasnt sure if i should ask

You breathe a real sigh of relief at the returned messages, already more than tired by the day, but slightly soothed as you look down at the blue light of the screen, and send your last message of the day.

I'll see you at 0630. Goodnight.

A little red heart appears over your message, in the top left corner of the rounded bubble.

You plug in your phone and try to ignore how something in your chest squeezes at being deemed worthy of making plans more than two hours in advance.

It's a shockingly new thing, but goodness does it feel good, even if it brings on a sting of a more somber feeling.

Gaz and Soap sure as fuck didn't do this. Ghost either. You never expected Price to do that for you in the first place. Did they just... not think you were enough to make plans for? Was this pity?

You try to shake off the feeling as you bunch your blankets around your body, allowing your tired form to sink into the mattress and rest. The morning will clear your thoughts.

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[serendark]

Misc. ideas and thoughts about Journals 1 & 2, as inspired by Forduary this year

I have too much going on to participate, but I really like the Forduary prompts this year!

Journal 3 has some things that help with inventing both Journals 1 and 2, I think.

Isn't it weird that gnomes and various other creatures are in Journal 3 instead of Journal 1, when it just feels like Ford would have met them 6 years ago when he first arrived to Gravity Falls? Like, did it really take six years before he wrote about or saw gnomes? Who knows, maybe! However you want to imagine it. I think Journal 3 itself can be used for examples of Journal 1, or you can work backwards from Journal 3 to invent more of what the landscape was like for Ford when he arrived here and was first getting his footing. Journal 3 has various bits looking back at his earlier years, like about his house being built iirc and Steve, so I think there is likely overlap with Journal 1 (and 2) already.

Journal 1 sounds fun as a novice Ford being awestruck by so many things for the first time, and trying as many experiments as he can, and having all kinds of inexperienced clumsy missteps. He traced this town as a big home of anomalies and now he is actually here, and beginning his dream on his own, fresh out of college! And there's all the locals to meet for the first time. Was it overwhelming in the best way possible that everywhere he looked there was just more and more and it felt impossible to possibly study it all? Were his first years really social while he tried interviewing everyone, before falling into his eventual status as a recluse who doesn't really connect with them, before he realized how lonely he was, or maybe he pushed through all of his negative feelings because there was so much that was exciting to focus on instead? Were there more weird holidays like Summerween that don't exist in 2012? Or, even, did Ford witness the very first year of Summerween? What are some local mysteries and ghost stories? Did he meet more of the parents of individuals we know about in 2012?

Were Ford's first notes a mess that he had to go back and reorganize later? Did he have to figure out ways of being better able to draw anomalies when life drawing isn't always an option? What's up with the camera and photos and all those other weird objects in his house in that one flashback scene in ATOTS? How much did Ford have to study and catalogue and take samples of local plants and water before he started noticing weird connections and magical influences? How did he figure out what equipment, tools, machinery, and anomaly specific magic detectors or whatnot that he needed? What was the iterative process like? Did he have a bunch of failed drawings, machines, and samples at the start? Did he hear about the underground weirdness black market and spend a lot of time trying to track it down before realizing how hopeless the endeavor seemed to be? One failure of many he would remember moving forward in his time here, but also exciting fuel to keep learning! Gravity Falls has so much to offer, far too much to stop learning just because of some unanswered mysteries.

I don't recall if Hirsch has ever spoken on the content of Journal 1 but I really think it has a lot of potential as a prompt if you're a little creative! Yeah it isn't super guided but I don't think it's boring at all!

And then Journal 2 is especially extremely super hype imo!! That's the one when he was really throwing himself into researching and learning about spells and magics, including spells he would even carry with him in Journal 3 as useful protective tools on excursions if I'm remembering that correctly. There's so much here that must be related to forest creatures, not to mention the artifacts. Did he catch wind of the Hand Witch or other potential similar individuals? The Love God? Were there more witches and creatures during the 80's than we see in Gravity Falls in 2012? Like how zombie uprisings were a regular monthly occurrence, mentioned in Journal 3, when that clearly chilled out and settled by the time of the show, not to mention the blood rain.

Wizard Ford! Warlock Ford! Ford, the DD&MD dork! Did he learn defensive enchantments? Was he really into useful utility spells instead, like one that keeps himself dry in rain? Or refills his quill ink? What offense might he have liked, or even felt uncomfortable with? Did he practice writing and learning sigils and runes and fae language? Did he sew any into his clothes, or wear any in temporary tattoos or skin paint? Were there things in the library or museum he was able to translate?

Were there other events like that carnival in Journal 3, or weird black magic holidays before such things were wiped from the townsfolks' memories? Was there more visible magic on average back then, and magic interacting with people and vice versa? How did Ford compare his experiences and studies with his beloved stories of fiction, historical reading, myths, and folklore? Did Ford make or find magic rings, pens, wands, hats, clocks? What are some really dumb and silly spells? Did he research how different phases of the moon, weeks in the month, days in the week, or certain hours in a day, or even the weather, influenced any of the rituals or how to acquire materials and items? Did some spells or rituals demand him to sit in pose for 12 hours before activating, and which spells or rituals were more instant or immediate? How about astrology?

This also overlaps with the period of time where Ford knew Bill for like 2 years before the portal was ever proposed, and before Ford had felt himself stuck at a dead end. Ford was still eagerly exploring and researching and practicing like normal, surely with some doubts and difficulties, but I think he was still starry-eyed, too. What was Bill like? How much did Bill help? How much of the stuff in Journal 2 came about from Bill helping Ford with leads, giving him breadcrumbs about things Ford wouldn't have known on his own? What questions did Bill answer, and did Bill tell Ford about any spells outright? Did Bill and Ford hang out working on translating runes together? Did Bill give Ford spells and sigils and all to solve himself like a mentally stimulating puzzle? Is this the period of time where Bill was the most like a practical helpful teacher and friend, and a stronger bridge between Ford and the local weird? Did Ford investigate different ideas about geometry and its relation to religion/spirituality/history/myth?

What potion recipes and ingredients could Ford have found and made and jotted down in Journal 2? The steps and materials needed for rituals? What about notes to be taken on the anomalous and magical properties of random materials and how those interact with mundane technology and science, like hen's teeth, fairy wing dust, certain mushrooms that only grow around fairy circles, silk from weird spiders? Or even how more familiar earthly materials interact with these, like mercury, blood, salt, gold, silver, onyx, honeycomb? What are some local legends and myths? Did Ford use any variety of magical ingredients, ritual, or spell for experiments specifically in his mindscape while he was asleep? Or maybe meditating in a fairy circle?

What offerings did Ford need to learn how to prepare for different creatures, spells, or rituals? Did he have to learn how to bake certain desserts as acceptable offerings? Did he have to make candles and parchment out of custom materials? Did he have to wear clothes of only very certain materials and dyes? If he got on the bad side of very dangerous creatures, or got himself cursed, how did he negotiate with them or figure out how to solve it? Does some magic only work on humans and not the beings of the forest? What experiences did Ford have regarding dreams and the mindscape? What experiments did Ford try? What technology and engineering did he attempt to etch with runes or control magics with? Did he have to lean more into his artistic skills and make sculptures, weave cloth, knit tapestries?

I don't remember if Hirsch has said anything about the contents of Journal 2 either outside of what we see in the show, and it's been a while since I've read Journal 3 to particularly remember what nods it may have had to Ford's pre-Journal 3 experiences. But there's so much potential! It's SO interesting!

I just completely don't relate at all to people who find these prompts boring just because two of the books basically don't exist. And if you don't like what Hirsch has said about them, then don't use or follow what he said? People always want more creativity about Ford's portal adventures and Stan's first acclimation to the weirdness of Gravity Falls after Ford disappeared, yet people are shutting down at the creative opportunity of these prompts.

There's so many different angles you can approach this stuff from, and I think that's a big part of what makes it fun to think about, personally! It is pretty hard to invent where there is nothing or not much guidance, but I think it is truly worth the attempt! There's nothing wrong with looking up secondary prompts if you need them, whether they're past Forduary/Stanuary/Fiddtober/Maybel/Dipcember/Dipril ones or from events like Funguary/Witchtober/Inktober/Mermay! I do really like how Stanuary has a bingo of additional prompts, and I think such a thing would be cool for Forduary too. I notice some previous years did have various extra prompt ideas.

I'm excited to see what people make, especially for Journal 2! Good luck everyone!! :D