#i’ve also confronted them personally plenty of times before

[qiallos]

i hate making posts like this but i just want to vent in saying that the fact there’s a person in the rpc , one i know floats in the same circles as me , who has been blatantly stealing from me and making money off my content for years just makes me lose sm faith in this community fr. i’m not one for callouts so i won’t do that , but their blog just popped up in my feed again and i just big sigh.

[citricacidprince]

...Mable stuck with bill timestuck, you say? I wonder if that would go better or worse than dipper being alone with bill.

Here to mention that I somehow only noticed your signature when it was next to fiddleford, and thought you were (rightly) calling him a prince. It took an embarrassingly long time for me to connect the dots.

Haha you’re not the first person to mistake my signature for actual writing so dw you’re good lol!

And as for my thoughts of Mabel and Bill in a Timestuck AU,,,

I may or may not have written a drabble in a mutuals DMs a few years back about a confrontation between Mabel and Bill and the aftermath of it! I also may or may not have just fixed it up and straight up doubled the word count haha-

Since I’m feeling a tad bit brave I’m gonna post the drabble under the cut for anyone to read along with two doodles I’ve done for it, I only ask that yall be nice to me since I don’t write very often and know I ain’t that good at it hehe-

Also I’m not lying this is like,,, 4707 words… I got possessed to write this haha

Before I begin!!! Important!!!

Trigger Warnings: Choking/Asphyxiation, harm to children, minor descriptions of small cuts and minuscule amounts of blood, verbal planning of commiting a murder/killing

(if I missed any please tell me!)

With that out of the way here's my stupidly long Timestuck AU drabble that's been on my back burner for years! The only thing you really need to know is that the twins time-traveled back after Weirdmagenddon of their own volition. Dipper is with Stan and Mabel is with Ford and Fiddleford. Mabel has been staying with the two for almost a month now and Fiddleford is the only one who knows she's a time traveler.

With the stage set, please enjoy!

💫—————————————🚩

It’s late into the night, Mabel is tossing and turning and can't go to sleep. Her mind is spiraling as she overthinks and worries about Bill, her brother, her Grunkles, everything. So at about 1AM she decides that she’s not going to bed anytime soon and gets up off the living room couch which she has called her new bed while staying with her younger Grunkle Ford and Fiddleford.

Despite it being the dead of night Mabel thought it’d be a good idea to just make something food related in hopes it would tire her out. Also, she figured it would be a fun idea since she knows Stanford is most likely still awake and probably hasn’t eaten in a while. She could make him something easy and sweet, like a batch of cookies, and give them to him as a gift! Who doesn’t like 1AM cookies?! If she doesn’t have the stuff to make that, eh, she’ll figure it out and make something else!

A bonus to this is that if Ford says he’s not hungry, a bold faced lie, she’d use her sweetest and biggest puppy eyes until he ate some. Maybe she could even convince him to go to bed and not stay up till 4AM!

The brunette starts making a batch of cookies in the cover of night, making sure to have plenty enough for Fidd's in the morning, and putting her entire heart and all her worries into the mix in hopes the oven would ease away the stress weighing down her mind.

Sure it took a while, but it would totally be worth it to see her young Grunkle's face light up in shock at the sight of a warm batch of cookies shoved into his face and getting crumbs on his nerdy notes!

Right as she was finishing up wrapping up three separate plates worth of cookies in a napkin with a pretty little bow, for the ✨aesthetic✨ she happily told herself, she hears a pair of heavy boots walk into the kitchen.

The voice of her, now young, Grunkle Ford calls out her name in the quiet kitchen. Just as she had expected, he was awake.

Before the excited brunette could whirl around and surprise Ford with the 1-2 AM batch of cookies she lovingly went and made by hand, his low voice rumbled out, “Could you grab me a mug? One from the cabinet.”

He sounded a little funny, like he just woke up. Mabel smiled as she could already picture Stanford’s bleary and tired face as he goes to make a cup of coffee with the mug he’s asking for. She lets out a small sound of exertion as she pushes herself onto the counter since she’s too short to reach the cabinets otherwise and gingerly opens the cabinet so it doesn’t squeak and pulls out a mug. Based on the small cracks and worn paint on the ceramic it seemed a tad old, the faded words of ‘Backupsmore 1973’ barely legible.

Just as Mabel turns around, about to lightly scold her young Great Uncle for drinking coffee at 2 AM instead of getting some rest, a large hand wraps around her little neck. She didn’t even have a chance to scream as she’s suddenly slammed into the now closed cabinet, the air knocked out of her lungs and her head spinning from the impact, a loud sound of ceramic shattering on the wooden floor echoing through the kitchen and Mabel’s ringing ears

A fearful confusion consumes her mind as she, unsure of what’s happening in her dazed state until she catches a glimpse of Stanford. Gone were the warm brown eyes she’s grown accustomed to, in their place were the sickly yellow slit eyes of a monster she knew all to well.

Bill Cipher.

“Shooting Star, there you are! I think you're getting a tad too comfortable around here! Let's fix that!"

Malice built in her throat as she spat out, her brows furrowed and her brown eyes glaring down his yellow ones, “Bill! You-”

“Ah, so you do know me! I assumed so, but wasn’t quite sure!”

The six fingered hand around her neck pressed a tad harder against the wooden cabinet behind her, making her wince from the pressure.

“Here’s the deal, Shooting Star, you’re being a massive thorn in my side.”

Her back was already aching from the impact of her getting slammed against the cabinet.

“Making Sixer second guess his trust in me with your insufferable kindness and child-like whimsy.”

Her sock-covered feet were slipping and sliding on the wooden countertop, legs uncontrollably trembling as her fingers gripped at Stanford’s large forearm in hopes of steadying herself.

“It was amusing at first but now it’s just annoying. So I need you,”

His hand tightened even more, making Mabel let out a sharp hiss of pain.

“Out of the picture.”

Mabel’s feet no longer are touching the countertop as Bill suddenly pulls her away from the cabinet, easily dangling her little body in the air and effectively hanging her. Panic instantly shoots through her and tears well up in her eyes as her airway is suddenly completely cut off, her little hands grabbing and clawing at her possessed great uncle’s forearm while her legs wildly kick at the air, too short to even graze against Bill’s chest.

Bill’s free hand raises up and idly taps his chin, as his musing over something indecisively, an wide and uncanny grin stretched across the possessed scientist’s face as he loudly questions, “Hmmm… how about… throwing you in the lake! If the water doesn’t kill you the cold air will!”

Mabel started to thrash around even harder, her heart pounding in her chest as fear coursed through every nerve in her body, her flight response in full gear as she tried over and over again to get out of Bill’s grip with no avail.

“Oooh! Or I could just tie you up and bury you in the snow! I hear frostbite is real killer these days!”

Blood was rushing to her ears; she could barely hear a word he was saying. All she could focus on was the panic bubbling in her chest and adrenaline pumping in her veins, screaming at her that she didn’t want to die.

It didn’t take long before her vision began to blur, her clawing hands and kicking feet getting more and more numb and slow with each passing seconds. She could faintly hear Bill say something about ‘throwing’, ‘roof’, and ‘classic!’ before she could feel herself almost completely clock out, vision fluttering in and out as her hand weakly claws at his arm one last time.

Just as she was about to give up completely, the polydactyl hand around her neck suddenly let go, sending Mabel unceremoniously crashing to the floor. She let in a large gasp of air, coughing her lungs out as air desperately tried to fill them once more. The brunette doesn’t even care about the small shards of broken ceramic cutting into her hands or shins, she was trying to make sure she didn’t accidentally start hyperventilating as drool and tears drip from her face to the floor with every sharp breath.

Mabel, disoriented and dazed, manages to glance up through strands of her long and curly brunette hair to see Ford still standing there with those disgusting yellow eyes, which were now staring off to space with annoyance clearly visible in his gaze.

"Geez Sixer, you chose the worst time to want your body back to 'test a new theory' huh?" He quietly mumbles under his breath, looking upset that his fun was being rudely ripped away from him.

Suddenly he stares down at Mabel, who was clutching her throat and panting heavily, brown eyes unable to stop crying. Despite this, despite all the pain and numbness that ran through her, she still found it in her to glare at the dream demon with as much animosity as she could muster while surrounded by ceramic shards and small prickles of blood.

"Well… we’ll just have to pick this up another time, won't we Shooting Star?"

The possessed body of Stanford Pines strolls towards the archway leading out of the kitchen, however before he leaves completely, he stops and whirls around with that same twisted smile Mabel vividly remembers seeing on her possessed brother’s face just a few months ago. "Oh, Shooting Star? Would you be a doll and clean up this mess? Wouldn’t want anyone getting hurt now, would we?"

And with one final cackle he left, making his way back downstairs to Stanford’s study, presumably to make it appear like he never left in the eyes of the oblivious scientist, leaving the little brunet alone on the floor to lightly grip her neck, wincing at the bruise that's bound to appear the next day.

She stayed there silently for what felt like hours but was only just a couple minutes, the adrenaline coursing through her veins slowly but surely fading away as the feeling finally came back to her numb fingers and toes, relieved that she isn’t hyperventilating anymore and she can actually breathe.

She eased herself off the cold wooden floor, her little body trembling the entire time.

Despite the feeling of spite coursing through her veins for that awful dream demon, he was right…, she really didn’t want anyone to get hurt… So instead of immediately going to fix herself up she spent the next 10 minutes sweeping up the broken mug and getting all the broken shards of ceramic into the trash.

Curse her and her big heart…!

When she was done it was about 2 AM, and it was now officially time to check the damage.

Before she left the kitchen she made sure to put the plates of cookies into the fridge.

She didn’t really feel hungry anymore.

With a couple of winces and hisses of pain she managed to tip toe herself up the stairs and to the bathroom, making sure she didn’t accidentally wake up Fiddleford by stepping on a loose plank or opening the door too loud. Once inside she gingerly pulls out the old timey medkit from under the sink and sits on the floor.

Well, technically the medkit was modern since it was the 80s…

Wah, Mabel! Not the time!

With a deep breath she gingerly treats the tiny cuts gracing her hands and shins, trying not to cry as she disinfects each cut just like Grunkle Ford taught her to at the end of the summer, plucking out mini pieces of ceramic embedded in her skin with a pair of tweezer like how her Grunkle Stan had taught her at the beginning of the summer (note from her past self, splinters are never fun).

Cleaning and applying band-aids to the cuts was the easy part, most of the bandages would be hidden under her sweater and the winter pants Fiddleford had gifted her during her first couple days staying at the shack.

It was her neck that was going to be hard to hide.

Mabel stood up and got on a step stool to look into the minor, immediately wincing at the sight of her bare neck, dark purple was already creeping in and bruising every bit of her neck. The brunette leaned closer to get a better look and almost whispered out one of the many swears she had accidentally learned from Stanford while living here.

There was a hand bruised into her neck, and it encompassed her entire neck.

She gingerly touched her neck and winced at the dull pain. Guess she wasn’t going to take off her sweater for about 2 weeks now… just 1 week if she was lucky enough…

She tentatively took a step outside of the bathroom and tiptoed down the hallway again, trying to not make a single sound. Just when she got to the steps she heard a door open behind her, causing her to instantly crouch down and hope that she was far enough down the stairs that her body was hidden from sight.

She dared herself to peek just above the top step to see Fiddleford standing outside of his room, stretching and yawning before closing his door and walking towards the bathroom Mabel just left, making the 13-year-old let out a sigh of relief that he wasn’t going to see her like this.

She knew she should probably tell Fiddleford what happened, but she just couldn’t. Maybe it was that childish fear of getting in trouble over nothing getting to her, or maybe it was the fear that her young Grunkle would be blamed for what Bill did.

Regardless, despite her better judgment, she kept her mouth shut and decided to hide her bruises from everyone else in the house, silently thinking of a way she could somehow protect herself from Bill.

She could practically hear Dipper yelling at her about how bad of an idea this was, but she was too shaken up to think of anything else…

So, she kept with the plan even as she shakily slipped a sweater over her large t-shirt she wore as a night gown and fell asleep on the couch, huddled in the corner in a ball as vivid nightmares haunted her fitful sleep, showing flashes of a possessed Stanford Pines throwing her off either the house or a water tower.

She woke up the next day to the warm smell of breakfast and the soft tones of Fidd's humming a tune in the kitchen, her body absolutely aching and a tad sweaty from the combo of the sweater and the fireplace keeping the room warm.

Mabel winced as she got off the couch. Yep… her back is definitely bruised.

She tentatively walked towards the open archway leading into the kitchen, silently calming her nerves and trying to put a smile onto her face. It helped that Fiddleford is making breakfast, she loves his food.

The kicthen was so empty when she first arrived but the southern man immediately starting keeping the place stocked when it was clear that she was going to stay there for a while. He also insistent on making her a meal 3 times a day since she was a ‘growin’ lil’ girl’. Because of her memories of Fiddleford being ‘Old Man McGucket’ were much more prominent in her brain it was easy to forget that he was once a father, but in those domestic moments when he doted and fussed over her it was clear that he was a good one.

Well, when he was sane that is…

She quickly shook off the bleak memory.

Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy thoughts…

She let out a low breath as a wide smile covered her face, her round cheeks rosy as she happily skipped inside.

Fiddleford perked up at the sound of Mabel walking inside, smiling as immediately spoke with a fond voice, "Ey there sweetpea, sleep well?" He idly glanced behind to see Mabel in her baggy t-shirt/sleep gown as well as a sweater on top of that, making him raise an eyebrow as he playfully asks, "Did someone get' cold last night?"

"Just a little bit." Mabel playfully replied back, unable to stop the wince that crossed her face at the sound of her hoarse voice.

Fiddleford, who was already done making breakfast, immediately whipped his head around at the sound. "Honeybee, are ya' alright?"

She lightly coughs into her fist a couple times and passingly remarks, “I’m fine, it's just morning gunk! Just need some water, haha!” Trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

Fiddleford still had a suspicious look in his eye as he looked over the little lady before deciding to let her off easy with this one, grabbing a rag and wiping his hands while replying with a quiet, “Alright, if ya say so, sunshine…”

He quickly pours Mabel a glass of water and then grabs a plate of bacon and pancakes. “Fer you, made just how you like it,” Mabel sits down in her chair as Fiddleford places the glass of water in front of her and a plate of pancakes and some bacon that is extremely burnt. “Burnt in a volcano.”

The brunette drinks some water first, happy to note that it actually does ease the pain in her throat! After that she eagerly grabs a burnt piece of bacon and shoves it into her mouth, loving the way flakey black residue smears onto her fingers and the overwhelming taste of what can only be described as ‘BURNT’ fills her mouth. She muffles out, “It’s perfect!” In between bites as Fiddleford chuckles at her antics and makes himself a plate. “Yer such an odd lil’ duck, honeydew! Only kid I’ve ever met who wanna me ta’ burn their meal!”

Mabel immediately shoots back, pointing at Fiddleford with a mouth full of bacon, “Tahts cause ohther peowple are COWERDS!!!”

The lanky man lets out a full on belly laugh as he grabs his plate and sits at the table, the two beginning to talk about anything that crosses their mind.

Stanford wasn’t going to join them for breakfast. He’s usually asleep at this time or buried in whatever notes he was currently writing.

…Mabel feels a little bad that she's kinda happy he wouldn’t join them… Her throat feels like it’s constricting all over again at the thought of those sickly yellow eyes and horrid laughter…

At some point while eating, Fiddleford makes a joke that makes Mabel loudly laugh, the sudden shout of laughter causing her to wince and try to grab at her throat. She stops herself a couple inches short of the grab and quickly puts her hand back down, but the damage was already done.

Fiddleford, concern coming back at full force, puts down his fork and immediately asks with a concerned tone, "Honey, is ‘ere somethin' wrong with ‘ur neck?"

Sweat began to bead on Mabel’s forehead and she tried to immediately brush off the concern with a not so convincing, "Whaaaaat, psh, nah!"

He raises an eyebrow at the clearly nervous little girl. "Mabel, if yer' hurt I'd like to know."

She starts to fidget in her seat, fingers wrapping together and her brown eyes darting away. "Look, it's not thaaaat bad you don't gotta worry about it-"

At the confirmation that she is indeed hurt makes him sit up and shoot back, "Well tha' just makes me MORE worried bout it!"

Unable to come up with anymore excuses Mabel plays with a fork in front of her, eyes locked with her plate. Fiddleford let out a soft sigh and leans closer to the brunette across the table and rests his hand on hers, a kind smile on his face as he gently adds on with that fatherly tone that immediately made Mabel feel better, "Darling, it ain't gonna get better if ya’ don't lemme help. I promise I ain’t gon’ get mad, ya hear?"

Mabel tentatively glanced up at the southern man’s soft green eyes and could tell he meant every kind word.

So, despite her promising to keep her injuries a secret, she takes a deep breath and nods her head, gingerly taking off the thick hand-made sweater to leave her neck and bandaged up arms exposed to the world. The lanky southern man’s eyes seem to grow more horrified every passing second.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph-"

Fiddleford jumps up from the table, almost making his plate fall off while doing so, quickly rounding the table and crouching in front of the brunette with green eyes filled with so much worry and horror.

He found himself fussing over the girl who had easily wormed herself into his and Ford's hearts and found himself growing even more sickened at every bruise and cut he found, though nothing could compare to that sinking feeling of dread he felt looking at Mabel's bruised neck.

He cupped the brunette’s face and could feel tears well up in his eyes as he stuttered out a confused, "W-wha'..., Mabel wha' on earth happened-" His heart breaking trying to even comprehend what could have happened to her.

On the opposite end, Mabel could feel her heart swell at Fidd's fatherly fussing, but tried to brush it off the best she could, not wanting him to worry about her.

"I'm fine really! I just, uh… tripped down the stairs…? …Yeah! Didn't want to worry you, haha!"

Fiddleford, who suddenly stopped paying attention to what Mabel was saying, let his eyes looking closer at the girl's neck before they widened in a horrifying realization.

"I… Is tha' a hand…?"

A rush of panic suddenly runs through Mabel as she tries to come up with some excuse to throw him off, something, anything!

"Fidd’s it's FINE! I just… uh… wore a sweater that was too tight…?” Goodness she’s screwed, even she was aware of how unsure she sounded.

Fiddleford still wasn’t paying attention. Instead one of his hands lowered from her rosy cheeks and ever so slightly touched her neck with the lightest of touches. His green gaze was analytical as finger traced down the bruised skin, talking to himself so quietly that even Mabel almost didn’t hear him as he quietly began to count.

“One, two, three, four, five, s-”

The blond cut himself off with a sharp inhale through his nose as the look of worry that had previously graced the southern man's face suddenly disappeared and was replaced with a look Mabel had never seen on his face before.

It was a quiet anger. The kind of anger that's terrifying to witness as it bubbles from deep inside but you refuse to let it show on your face, even as your hands begin to tremble and your vision goes red.

Without saying a word Fiddleford stood up and stayed completely silent, unable to say a word for about 10 seconds while his face was blank and unreadable. Finally, Fiddleford looked down at Mabel and gave a kind smile that didn't fully reach his eyes.

"Sweetie, could ya' stay here a sec? I have something importan' I need tha’… discuss… with Stanferd."

After finishing that statement he gently patted the top of her brunette head and walked out of the kitchen archway, turning the corner and heading up the stairs that lead to Stanford's room, walking with such silent intensity that it kinda frightened her.

After a couple moments of staying frozen in her chair she finally managed to shake off the feeling, realizing she had to stop Fiddleford! As scary as it would be seeing Stanford again after last night's… incident… she couldn't just let Fiddleford go confront Ford without the full story!

She sprang up from her chair and winced at the pain radiating from her back. Yep! Still definitely bruised!

Mabel rushed out of the kitchen and up the stairs. She stumbles to a stop at the end of the steps as she sees Fiddleford standing outside Ford's door, just as quiet as he was downstairs. He raises his hand and gives a firm echoing knock and she could faintly hear her young Grunkle respond with a strong, "Come in!"

She hates that she shivers a bit at his voice.

She hates that she's a little bit afraid of him.

Fiddleford doesn't respond and instead just opens the door and then quietly closes it behind him. The door doesn’t close all the way which makes a sliver of light from Ford's bedroom/study shine against the floor in the hallway.

Well... Fiddleford hadn't broken any windows or started yelling, so maybe, just maybe, he's going in there to calmly talk out the problem with Ford? Well, that was more wishful thinking on Mabel's part. She HOPES they will just, talk it out, and no one will get hurt...

A loud crash and shout echoed through the hallway.

A girl could dream can't she?

Mabel sprints to Stanford’s door, tripping over herself the whole way, and yanks open the heavy wooden door as quickly as she could.

When she finally pries it open she’s greeted with the sight of Fiddleford in the middle of trying to choke out Stanford, while Stanford is leaning against one of his smaller wooden cabinets, pushing Fidds away (to the best of his ability) with his foot, clutching his very bloody nose in confusion.

Mabel rushes in and pushes the southern man away from her bleeding Great Uncle to the best of her ability but Fiddleford upon seeing Mabel finally backs off from trying to murder Ford, but the look of pure anger firmly remains on his face.

Ford looks at Fiddleford with pure confusion as he pushes himself off the small wooden cabinet, clutching his bleeding nose all the while.

"F, what on earth has gotten into you!"

Fiddleford stared back with his mouth agape, absolutely gobsmacked, before finally yelling back, "Wha'- what's gotten into ME?! What's gotten into YOU Stanferd Pines!"

Fidds pushed past Mabel and jabbed his finger into the brunet’s chest.

"She's a lil girl?! How DARE you even lay a FINGER on her!"

"F what on earth are you talking about?!"

Fiddleford roughly grabs Ford's shoulders and pushes him to look towards Mabel with a surprising amount of force.

"SHE'S what I'm talkin' bout! Stanferd Filbrick Pines who gave you tha' idea ya' had tha' GODDAMN right to even lay a FINGER on her-"

Stanford couldn't focus on the rant Fiddleford poured into his ears instead his eyes state frozen on the disgusting purple mark staining Mabel's neck.

"Mabel… who-"

Stanford knelt next to the sweet girl who reminded him so much of Stanley in his youth and felt a familiar pang in his chest. That feeling he'd feel whenever Lee came home covered in bruises. That feeling to protect… and to hurt anyone who dares to hurt them.

"Sweetheart… who did this? What happened?"

Fiddleford scoffed. "Ya should know."

Ford shivered at how cold F had sounded. Out of all of his years of knowing him, Fidds had never sounded like this.

Then the meaning of those words finally hit him.

Stanford rushed to stand up and looked back to Fiddleford's furious eyes with his own look of disbelief.

"Y-... You think I did this?"

Fiddleford's eyes didn't change in the slightest.

"Ya'. Ya' I do."

"We've known each other for years, we went to college together, I went to your wedding, you are easily my best friend. Do you honestly think I'm capable of doing something like this?!"

"I used ta'," Fidds crossed his arms. "Now I ain't so sure."

Ford didn't know HOW to feel. This felt like a betrayal but not in the way Stanley's felt. He also felt offended. And hurt. And so many other emotions that were swirling in his chest.

"How? How did you even get it in your head that I had something to do with this!? How could you look at me and even IMAGINE me hurting her?! I can't even imagine myself hurting her! She's-"

"Hand."

Ford froze from his rant.

"What."

"Yer' tha' only one who coulda' done it. How do I know? Hand."

"Ya' always go on an' on about the statistics of someone' being polydactyly. About how different ya' are."

"I want ya' to look at how many fingers are on that handprint on 'er neck, look me in tha' eye, and tell me who's most likely tha' guilty party."

Stanford froze, his face turning white at the realization. He didn't need to turn around and investigate the bruise on Mabel's neck. He now knows it had 6 fingers. When you put all the facts together, one thing is clear.

He IS the most likely person to have done it.

But there's a problem with that.

He DEFINITELY didn't do it.

He glanced back at Mabel, who seemed to be nervously pulling at her nightgown the entire time. After a moment she finally glances up, but after looking into his brown eyes for less than a second she quickly looked back down.

He didn't do it. He knows he didn't.

But if he didn't, why did she look so scared of him?

He didn't do it…

…Didn’t he…?

❔—————————————❓

Now this is a bonus doodle based on an idea I had for the aftermath of this! Stanford is stuck mulling over this in his room and when he finally leaves he notes that Mabel isn't asleep on the couch like usual. So of course he freaks out and assumes she ran away, running all over the house in hopes of finding her. He runs upstairs to Fiddleford’s room and knocks frantically on his door to get him to help him find the missing girl.

Fiddleford opens the door looking annoyed and tired. When Stanford says he can’t find Mabel and that he’s looked everywhere the southern man cuts him off by instantly replying “I know where she is.” That instantly calms down Ford but he looks confused as he asks “You do?” To which Fidd’s opens the door a little bit more to show Mabel asleep on his bed.

Stanford lets out a soft ‘Oh.’ And just stands there, looking awkwardly at Fiddleford for a moment before trying to break the tension with a weak chuckle and asking “Did she want to have a sleepover?” The blond doesn’t even hesitate to reply back, “Yeah. Because she’s scared of you, Stanford.” And closing the door on the brunet’s face.

Stanford doesn’t move for what feels like forever before he heads back to his room, feeling a little sick.

Anywho, I’m done now!!!

I’m happy and sorry you read through all of that, you can leave now! 💥💥💥

[ghettogirly]

𝐓𝐎𝐗𝐈𝐂!𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐒/𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏.

-> synopsis: some toxic things he may do as the leader of the Aretas Cartel.

-> warnings: manipulation: mention of toxic relationships, mention of degradation, mention of throwing things, mention of unstable relationships, slight mention of dumbification (I do not glorify these things.)

authors note: please reblog and like if you enjoyed this! please request down below as well. This has obviously been exaggerated and fabricated for entertainment, i’ve taken his character to a more “toxic” angle. I do not agree that his character is wholly like this or WILL do this.

[🕷️] 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍:

-> he would definitely not answer your texts until late at night. You could message him good morning and he would either:

respond with a dry text or not text you back until 6 hours have passed and he finally has free time.

-> i don’t think he does it to you on purpose but his life is so fast paced that he doesn’t really have time to really engage with your “useless” texts. He has much bigger things to concentrate on which is running the cartel and carrying out hits, there are plenty more girls out there who want him.

-> if you ever called him out on this, he would definitely twist it back on you and explain his lifestyle or just simply ghost you again until he’s bored or misses you.

-> he’s definitely a “you chose me knowing what i do” type of person.

-> god forbid if you ever ghost him over text though. He’s definitely popping up at your house and questioning you, initially speaking in an accusatory tone before eventually apologising (kind of), about his distant behaviour.

-> however, i don’t think he means to ghost you for as long as he does. He genuinely gets caught up in his work and is one to blow up when engaging with confrontation which is why he tends to ghost you as a way to not lose you.

-> because what would you rather want him to do? hurt your feelings in an argument? because trust me, you don’t want to argue with him.

[🕷️] 𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒:

-> 100% reactive.

-> He would go from 0 to 100 in a second depending on what you say. Ever mention his family and it’s over.

-> he was literally manipulated by his mother and has daddy issues. definitely not good if you mention them.

-> he would insult every single inch of you, degrading you to the point of where you have no self confidence left.

-> i also think, he may have a tendency to become violent if he really goes off the edge. It may be hard for him to get to that point, (you would really have to piss him off) but he may punch things or throw things while screaming at you in order to scare you.

-> this would be very common and not out of the ordinary as he has saw his own mother brutally die in front of him, violently fighting his dad also.

-> the words he would call you would be so hurtful they would make you think deep into the night when going sleep.

-> the attack on your character, you look, body shape and personality would have you questioning your whole identity and would make you succumb to his insults. Maybe causing you to change the way you act or look just to please him.

-> you’re definitely the one apologising first after an argument.

[🕷️] 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍:

-> “to handle or control something in a skilful manner.”

-> after how he was emotionally manipulated by his mother, who set him up to train for his whole life, to kill a man he thought betrayed her but in actuality was his father would mess him up DIFFERENTLY.

-> he WOULD not let that happen again.

-> he would have some manipulative tendencies that would’ve stemmed from his mother where he was switch a situation back on you,

-> For Example:

-> Let’s say you saw him flirting with a girl at a party you two were both at. If you brought it up to him afterwards he would automatically flip it on you suggesting that: “You’re too insecure,” “He doesn’t have time for this”, “This conversation is pointless”, or even “Can he not live a life outside his dangerous work?”

-> You’re not winning an argument with him.

-> by the end of this relationship, your mind is definitely just focused on him. the emotional manipulation taking a toll on you to the point where he can do no wrong.

-> he would 100% love that, his woman who is just a complete supporter, doesn’t question him and he can use her for his own use? great.

-> however, he would definitely get bored of this and dump you to move onto the next. wanting more of a challenge.

-> he only wanted the self-satisfaction of manipulating you so he could forget how he was easily manipulated.

[fractualized]

Could you give me any Batman comic(/series) recommendations? Or Joker ones?

(You can pretend I’ve never read any Batman comics)

Man, this got me thinking about (1) the number of extended storylines I still haven't fully read myself and (2) of the ones I have, would I recommend that people read them?? Tough question! Thinking about it in terms of a Batman newbie changes things too... 🤔

Ultimately, my list is mostly one-offs apart from the mainline series, but there's a few multi-issue mainline stories in there. From oldest to newest:

Batman (1940) #1, "The Joker" and "The Joker Returns" — Early comics can feel inaccessible because of their age, but I would still recommend checking out the start of Batman and Joker's relationship for a sense of the longevity and evolution of these characters (You could also read Batman's first appearance in Detective Comics [1937] #27.)

Batman (1940) #251, "The Joker's Five-Way Revenge" — Jumping ahead thirty years! After a 4-year absence from comics, Joker returns, and I just love how his dynamic with Batman picks up where they left off like it was yesterday.

Detective Comics (1937) #475, "The Laughing Fish" — The infamous story in which Joker's mad scheme is to… copyright fish.

The Dark Knight Returns #1-4 — TBH, I'm not a fan of TDKR for various reasons. However, it had a huge influence on Batman and you should read it at least once.

Batman (1940) #404-407, "Batman: Year One" — More required reading (but I do enjoy it more than TDKR). Frank Miller's problematique is more acknowledged today, but as I said, modern Batman stems from his work.

The Killing Joke — Controversial-ish recommendation nowadays, considering the much-maligned choice to fridge Barbara Gordon, but I still enjoy the nuance it gives Joker and the meta element of the ending, with Bruce and Joker trapped in their cycle by choices that are informed by the needs of the franchise. Alan Moore may no longer care for it, but I do! (Also, I'd say read it with the original coloring.)

Batman (1940) #426-429, "A Death in the Family" — Another big event in Batman lore: the death of Jason Todd. It's one of those moments that gets flattened in various ways today, so I think it's important to see how everything actually played out. In particular, it's striking to see that Joker is initially nervous about Batman finding out what he did, and just how Bruce struggles with his no-kill principle.

Batman #450-451, "Wildcard!" and "Judgements!" — Joker's big return after Jason's murder, in which we see he's still not all that giddy about it.

Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight #65-68, "Going Sane" — This story takes place earlier in Batman's career, before Robin. When Joker seemingly kills Batman, he tries to start a new life without his instability breaking through. Meanwhile, Bruce recovers from his near-death in a little town in the middle of nowhere and thinks he might actually stay there… but he's plagued by restlessness too.

Joker: Devil's Advocate — Joker winds up on death row, but for a crime he didn't commit! Bruce is set on proving Joker's innocence despite the clown's other sins, and Joker is too captivated by all the media attention to help save his own hide.

Deathstroke (1991) #58, "Bad Blood" — A story in which Joker causes plenty of chaos, but in service of doing something… nice?

Batman: Ego — As Bruce contemplates giving up his crusade, he falls into an argument with… Batman.

Batman (1940) #648-650, "All They Do Is Watch Us Kill" — Part of Under the Red Hood. Jason Todd's reappearance in Gotham City comes to a head when he kidnaps Joker and draws Batman in for a dire confrontation.

Detective Comics (1937) #826, "Slayride" — Paul Dini is one of the writers who consistently remembers Joker has a personality and makes him funny, and this Christmas-time story featuring Tim Drake is a great example.

Batman Confidential #7-12, "Lovers and Madmen" — An alternative origin for Joker. Bruce has been fighting crime for about a year when he encounters a bloody crime scene that he can't make sense of. Meanwhile, the culprit, Jack, is growing bored with his criminal life, until he comes face to face with a vigilante bat.

Batman 80-Page Giant 2010 (Volume 2), "Reality Check" — Is Joker really crazy? Does Joker himself even know?

Batman (2011) #13-17, "Death of the Family" — Not to be confused with "A Death in the Family." Joker tries to convince Batman that all his sidekicks make him weak.

Batman (2011) #23.1, "Time to Monkey Shine" — Joker infamously adopts a gorilla. (It ends badly.)

Batman (2011) #35-40, "Endgame" — After Joker's failure in DOTF, he decides to bring his conflict with Batman to a close.

The Joker Presents: A Puzzlebox #1-7 — The Riddler is dead, but what really happened? A heist story in which the point of view is passed around multiple rogues, but Joker is the ringleader.

Catwoman: Lonely City #1-4 — Alright, this one does revolve around Selina, but the story is deeply tied to her relationship with Bruce and what she comes to understand about him in the end. (And Joker plays a brief but key part!)

Batman & The Joker: The Deadly Duo #1-7 — A recent team-up that calls back to everything I've personally enjoyed about Batman and Joker's dynamic.

Batman: City of Madness #1-3 — Beneath Gotham lies Gotham Below, from which a monstrous mirror of Batman escapes in search of a Robin. In his pursuit, Bruce confronts not only alternative versions of his rogues but his personal demons.

[cosmictyto]

💛⚔️ Villain Ambrosius AU - Tarnished Gold ⚔️🖤

I’ve listened to Will Wood’s “Vampire Culture” one too many times while stuck in the Nimona hyperfixation pit + after seeing some villain Amb fanart floating around, so enjoy these sloppy, partially finished mad ramblings edited/stylized a bit to (try and) make them a little more interesting to read. Also, you're all more than welcome to add on/ask any questions! I'll get to them when I can.

Just a heads up, this is looooong. Simply because ya girl’s a wordy bitch.

Basically, the point of this AU can be boiled down to “What if Ambrosius knew Ballister was innocent AND Nimona got to him first?” Kinda a role swap, but kinda its own thing at the same time? Idfk.

On the night of the knighting ceremony, as they’re both suiting up, Ballister verbally mentions his sword feeling off to Ambrosius. But neither of them have time to investigate that further.

The knighting ceremony goes just as horribly as it did in the movie. The queen is dead, Ballister’s lost his arm, and though they couldn’t exactly find Ballister’s body, he’s presumed dead. Lambasted as a traitor to the kingdom, but also treated as a sort of boogeyman since no one REALLY knows if he’s dead in that "I heard he's dead!" "Well, I heard he's still alive!" kind of way.

Ambrosius, meanwhile, is left completely crushed. Simultaneously being praised by some for “disarming the traitor” and mocked by others for being so close to that same traitor. For not recognizing the signs earlier. For not stopping him before their queen was killed. And though the Director reassures him that he’s done well as Gloreth’s descendant and that this will all fade as nothing more than a bad memory… he knows. Ballister didn’t do it. He KNEW something was wrong with his sword. And deep down he knew that his boyfriend was innocent. So he confronts the squire, sees the footage, and leaves with his whole world rocked.

Needless to say, the proof of ACTUAL INTENTIONAL regicide, treason, and corruption within the system, the same one he’s a literal living symbol of, isn’t on his mind at the moment. Just what he did to Bal. So full of regret and guilt. (At best, he mutilated the love of his life out of instinct which is still horrible!!) Normally when he wanted time alone to think he’d go to the top of the Glorodome. But, that spot hurt too much right now. That's where he and Bal first became friends. So, that same night, he went to the next-best place, Gloreth’s statue.

It’s late at night (he hasn’t been able to sleep much lately anyway,) and he’s sitting at the edge of that massive golden sword. Legs dangling as he stares at the ground. He’s normally not much of a drinker, usually too risky. But tonight he makes an exception. Before, everything felt manageable. The inherent weight he bore being Gloreth’s descendant, the press and citizenry looking up to him to be this bastion of goodness and pure heroism, internal familial pressures over how he should act, look, and think… with Bal at his back, he could handle it. But that stability’s gone now. And the only other person he could possibly lean on, the Director, was responsible for his lover’s death. Now, more than ever, he feels like he’s on the verge of collapsing under the weight this kingdom’s placed on his shoulders…

And then someone happens to come along.

Even despite everything, despite all the hurt this one person’s been responsible for… Nimona still carries fondness for Gloreth. And some nights, when she can’t sleep and she feels like howling at the moon, she’ll go to her old friend’s statue… tonight was one of those nights. And who does she happen to find? Her great-great-great-great… however many more, great grandkid. And he’s not looking too hot. A part of her knows she’s got no real obligation to help him, she's never talked to any of the Golden-groin brats before. But... she's had plenty of moments where she wished she had someone talk her down from doing something stupid, and she's feeling kinda sentimental n' sappy... so she strikes up a conversation.

He’s (reasonably) startled by this teen who just showed up out of nowhere. On a statue that requires a hoverbike to get to, no less. But he’s also drunk enough that he’s not as concerned as he maybe should be. One thing leads to another, and he just lets loose. Like, completely vents everything stored in him. (And, yes, “Arm chopping is not a love language!!!” Is thrown in there.)

Nims is just kinda in shock. In all those stupid commercials and interviews he seems so calm and put-together. Perfect, even. But, he's actually kind of a wreck. And now he’s unraveling real fast and is a bit too wobbly to be up this high- So she talks him down a bit. Calms him. Eventually asks, “If you never had any of this stupid “Gloreth” stuff pushed on you, who would you be? What’d you want to do?”

That legitimately stumps and breaks him. He’s thought about how nice it’d be to have this pressure off of his back. Where he could be his own person and not “the descendant of Gloreth.” But he never ONCE considered what a world like that would really look like. All he’s ever known was THIS. Being a knight, being a symbol and not a real person… there’s really only one thing he could actually say.

“Um… My hair wouldn’t be blond..? Y’know, it’s funny, this isn’t even my natural color. They make me bleach it so that I… that I can look more like her…”

And it’s at that point that Nimona decides right then and there, if she couldn’t get the kingdom to change its mind, she’ll at least get through to Gloreth's heir. Break at least one cycle. (And totally not because she feels the teensiest bit regretful he's been put in this position, naaah, nothing like that.~) She coaxes him down from that statue, and the two of them proceed to do nothing but get into mischief…

“~Blood… didn’t they want your blood? So why apologize for being blue and cold?~”

Specifically, the kind that you don’t remember until well after you wake up. All Ambrosius knows is that he’s in some strange dim dreary place and someone’s cooking something. Oh, it’s just Bal. He usually handles any meals since he doesn’t burn them like he does… but, as he’s snuggling back into the couch, he realizes there’s the sound of a girl humming? What? He sits up. Aaaand she’s there? The girl from the statue? He tries to blow some of his unkempt hair out of his face, and-... he freezes. Grabs his phone, ignores the many, many missed calls and news notifications, opens his camera app, and… black. His hair is black. Why is it black?! It’s not supposed to be-! He NEEDS to be blond! And-!

“Mornin’, sleeping beauty!~ Not gonna lie, never knew a fancy-pants knight like yourself could cut loose like that... Hm? Oh! Right, the hair! You were telling me all about how much you hated bleaching it last night. Sooo, we dyed it! Eventually, you can cut all the dyed stuff off and just leave it your real color if you want. But, for now? Bye-bye, blondie! Like it?~”

No. No he does not. He’s basically having an anxiety attack over the unsanctioned change. Then he gets a notification on his phone and starts reading the news articles. All about HIM, a “mystery girl,” and several animals going wild throughout the kingdom.

“Dude, chill. What’s done is done. We got a little crazy, you saw some pink elephants, and we dyed your hair. So what?”

“So what?! What do you MEAN “So what?!?” I’m a DESCENDANT of GLORETH! I-I can’t be doing things like that! Or be seen like this, or-!”

“Woah WOAH! Hey, look at me. Breathe. You wanna really know why you asked me to dye your hair? YOU said it was so you could be free."

“Free..?”

“Yeah! From now on? You don’t have to live by their stupid rules and expectations. You don't have to be like her, you can be YOU! You can do whatever the hell you want, whenever you want! Wanna change your name? Do it! Wanna go break stuff? Hell yeah! Want a piercing or tattoo? I can give you some. I know how! You wanna make those bastards pay for what they did to you and your boyfriend? I'm more than happy bring the matches and help you burn that bitch to the ground!~"

From that point, things just click. His whole life, the Director… no, the whole INSTITUTE forged him into nothing more than a gilded sword. One that they turned on the person he loved most. The ONE thing in his life that he chose and stuck by… and the system he was supposed to symbolize MADE him kill the love of his life… and he didn’t have to play by their rules anymore. Thus starting his fall into "Villainy."

“~Blood, didn’t they want your blood? So don’t apologize for being blue and cold…~”

Slight time skip!~

Truth was? Ballister was still alive. Heavily wounded, dazed and confused at how everything went so wrong, but alive...

Ballister's story continues as it did in the movie. Months later after the knighting, he's being hunted by the law with Sir Thoddeus Sureblade as the captain of the guard. In the meantime, he's built himself an arm and is still aiming to prove his innocence... Except his attempts to find Ambrosius, or convince the Director that he was set up, are a complete failure. Like in the movie, he's arrested and thrown in the dungeon... Except with no one to break him out. According to whispered gossip from the guards who bring him food, Ambrosius has been missing for a while, now. A fact that would not be revealed to the public anytime soon...

"It's only culture! It's only CULTURE!! It's only- Culture's not your friend..!"

At least, not until an individual in scuffed black-and-rose-gold colored armor (?) shows up with... a bear, or a tiger, and a wolf, and horse, and... even a rhinoceros?! The two of them running through the halls. Breaking things, lighting stuff on fire, and spraying paint on the walls (along with the floor, ceiling, and any statues,) and scrapping with any knights they come across. They'd already uploaded that clip of the Director swapping those swords. This? This was a diversion to keep the Institute from possibly removing or censoring that clip before the public got to see it. And Ambrosius LOVED it! He got to be loud! To make a mess! He finally got to punch Todd in his stupid dude-bro face! When you've kept someone shackled their whole lives, and then take those harnesses and leashes off? The freedom's enough to make ‘em go a just a teensy bit crazy. More than anything, since everything that happened the night of their knighting? He felt alive.

"Hey, fuck your culture! I ain't got no culture! It's only culture and it's more afraid of you than you're of it!"

During the assault, just as things are starting to get dicey for Nims and Brose, they do something so that the power ends up cutting out. Freeing Ballister and giving him his chance to escape, and... for a moment Ballister sees him. His Rose, ebony-haired with cuffs and studs on his ears. Riding on the unsaddled back of a raspberry-pink horse. A can of neon spray-paint in one hand, a sword in the other, a whole squad of knights behind him… and for a moment they lock eyes. Ambrosius’ world just comes crashing down, trying to stop and turn Nims around (Who refuses. ‘Cause, y’know, the bunch of knights behind them?!) she shifts into an ostrich to get a boost of speed, and the two just ride off with Ambrosius staring wide-eyed… looking like he saw a ghost��� meanwhile, Ballister’s wondering just what the hell’d happened since the ceremony, and just -what- his boyfriend’s been hanging out with.

From this point my plot-related notes are thinner/less thought out. But here they are anyway:

- Ballister’s still firmly stuck in the Institute’s brainwashing since he’s had absolutely no time hanging out with Nimona to influence that. He’s seen the footage, but still believes that the fault solely lies with the Director specifically. That the Institute as a concept can still be preserved. A part of him hopes that by capturing this pink monster he might be able to redeem himself in the eyes of the kingdom. Prove his loyalty as a knight. (And conveniently finally meet with his boyfriend who’s apparently lost his damn mind?! Or... or has been corrupted by this thing?) So, while on the run from Todd and the other knights, he’s also trying to track down Ambrosius + Nimona and stop them from inciting a rebellion. Because all he knows is that this isn’t the man he fell in love with. (I won't lie, the Ballister side of things feels pretty shaky. I need more time to sit and stew on it.)

- If we’re using D&D alignment charts as a reference, Ambrosius is basically going from lawful-good to chaotic-good. Identity crisis and shift to anarchy aside, he genuinely doesn’t want to hurt anyone. Especially not the general populous. Yes, he happened to be raised to be a “hero of the realm” but, at his core, he’s still a good guy. Any acts of arson, destruction, or anything of the like are done with the knowledge that the spaces have been cleared out as best they can, first. And he doesn't even want to kill his fellow knights because he knows that, ultimately? They've all been forced through the same system. Children thrown into a mold to be forged into weapons. He’ll fight them. But, he doesn’t fight to kill… that being said, he doesn’t necessarily stray from violence, either.

- At some point I do see Ballister and Ambrosius getting into a fight. But, of course, Ballister’s the top of their class. No matter how hard they both sparred or competed against each other, Bal’d always managed to come out on top. In everything. So Rose is, of course, disarmed and thrown to the ground. A sword pointed at him as he looks up at the man he loves-.

“What, do you think this is some kind of a game?! You and that… that thing are tearing this kingdom apart! I… I don’t even recognize you anymore… what happened, Ambrosius?!”

“What happened? She set me free, Bal. And if you can’t see that this is who I really am, deep down..? Then you never really knew me at all…”

More miscellaneous/fun notes:

- It’s less boss/henchman in this AU. Instead, Rose and Nims 100% have a brother/sister dynamic. They bicker and tease when they’re together. But, the moment the other’s in trouble, it’s strict “No one messes with ‘em except me!” vibes. Who’s the older and who’s the younger sibling changes depending on the moment.

- Ambrosius always liked rock music. His parents and the Director always disapproved because it was “noise unbefitting of a Goldenloin” (ie. It wasn’t classical or opera therefore it was “wrong.”) but he always listened to it in private or with Ballister. So when Nims played some stuff and she caught Rose singing along to all the words? That earned instant respect points for him.

- These two also share one braincell between them at any given time. How they haven’t gotten caught is a damn miracle. Like, seriously, these two are goofballs. The moment he saw Nimona change into a shark? Oh, he totally stuck his head in her mouth. He never thought once about how “the wings” would be too noticeable. And when Nims brought up the plan to wreck the Institute? Eloquently putting it as: “We break-in, we break some stuff, smash some helmets, something-something-something, we win!~” He could only reply with a nod and, “Alright, sounds good!” And when they're playing a board game and she's going on some tangent? He's laughing his ass off. The only other person he's been this dorky around was Ballister.

- Once it clicked that he could swear?! And no one would get mad at him or clutch some pearls?! Nimona had to give him a crash-course because he was using it a bit too much. And it just kinda sounded ridiculous. Like giving a tween free rein to swear.

- He also went more crazy with his appearance. He was already used to the idea of makeup (Gloreth forbid her ancestors ever had *gasp* acne!!!) Eyes? Lined and smokey. Often with dark or fun colors. Nails? Painted. 24/7. Fingers adorned with a buncha rings. Lots of layered necklaces and bracelets. Plus silky black shirts with low necklines. And he did get his ears pierced. Both lobes, a couple in the helix of one ear, and one on an eyebrow. All of which was done courtesy of Nimona. (Needless to say, Ballister was shook the first time he got a good look at him.)

- He is still a Ballister Simp. Always gonna be his number one fan. At first, he tried to convince Ballister to join him and Nimona, but Bal wouldn’t listen. Their relationship doesn’t start to fracture until Ballister starts actively hunting them both down for the sake of capturing her. Because, while Ambrosius adores Ballister, and wants nothing more than to be with him… Nimona’s been the only one to help him see the truth. To help free him of all his expectations, she’s been there when he was at his lowest. She’s his friend. And he’s not willing to sacrifice her just so that he can go back to being the “Descendant of Gloreth” with Ballister. So, though it hurts, he still loves Bal. But he’s always waiting for the moment his lover admits he’s wrong about this.

- Speaking of Nimona’s and Ambrosius’ friendship… she’s in an awkward spot. Because, especially now with all those prissy-noble-layers stripped away… she sees so much of Gloreth in Ambrosius. In his smile, how confident every step is, that glimmer in his eye when he’s about to do something rebellious, even the way his eyes crinkle and his lips get tight when he’s mad. In so many ways he’s absolutely his own person… but it’s like she got her best friend back. And maybe that’s why she stayed and talked with him. Because she saw a chance to try again…

(Psst, you seriously read this far down? Thanks a ton! Have a cookie.~ 🍪 )

[eddiediazismyhusband]

Two hopefully lighthearted Buddie questions:

What are some Buddie scenes you really like that maybe are not talked about so much by the fandom?

Buck & Eddie go on a date. Not really their first one, just a date. What will they do?

Ooooh love these:

One of my favorite buddie scenes hands down in the entire show is when they’ve responded to the scene of Shannon’s accident, and Buck sees her first, and his immediate instinct is to protect Eddie from having to see her like that. I know it’s technically not really a BUDDIE scene but it’s one of my favorites earlier instances of them really showcasing how protective Buck is of Eddie.

I also really REALLY do love the scene in 7x9 in Eddie’s kitchen where Buck tells him he’s worried about him. Obviously, I’ve stated before that the whole Kim storyline pisses me off and there were plenty of ways they could have had Eddie go through some kind of dramatic shift in 7b without some wack-ass doppelgänger storyline, but the way that Buck’s devotion to Eddie was shown so clearly, as well as Eddie’s reliance on Buck is something so special to me because they really are exactly what each other need. Buck needs to feel like he is helping someone he cares about, and Eddie needs to know he’s not in this alone and they both fulfill that need for each other far beyond anyone else in their lives (with the exception of Maddie and Chris).

And lastly for buddie scenes, I am a huge fan of the just random blurbs we get of them. Goofing off on calls, enabling each other’s stupidity, blurry background shots of them being dumb, etc. I ofc think they are soulmates in a romantic way, but their friendship is still so dear to me, and those scenes where we just get to see them be goofs with each other just fill my heart w joy… ive not really touched on this but i’ve always been one of those people who really struggles to connect with people romantically unless we are already friends, and have always dreamed of one day marrying someone i consider to be one of my best friends which is one of the reasons why buddie is such a special ship to me.

Now, as far as buddie’s first date: I think there are so many options. My personal dream (as stated in my buddie paralleling bathena when they go canon post) would be that they go out for a nice dinner— nothing too fancy, but where eddie gets buck flowers, and they dress up, and enjoy a nice romantic evening together.

I could also see them doing something more fun like possible going to an axe-throwing place, or go-karting (like buck wanted to do w eddie in 7x1 👀) or going to the pier together.

But all of that said, i think it might be interesting for thier first date (whatever they do) to go absolutely terrible and one of them gets in their head about it and thinks that maybe they aren’t cut out for being a couple if they can’t even go on one date, and the other points out that they’ve kinda been dating for years, but that now they get to hold hands and kiss and tell each other “i love you” and let it be one of their first small hurdles bc it would in a sense be accepting the fact that neither of them are necessarily “good” at dating, but that they don’t have time be because they already care too much about each other… bonus points if we see a few failed sates before this confrontation, and after we get another date that they are both obviously not as nervous for, and it actually goes perfectly.

thank you for the ask, bestie! i really enjoyed thinking about this one 💕💕

[whumpspicelatte]

Skin, wound, and fear for the not-so-nice ask game :>

Okay, the only OCs unleashed upon the internet on this blog in any true capacity are my whumper Cole Glass, my whumpee Abelard Montagnard, and Cole’s somewhat morally skewed caretaker Daniel Henrikson. I dunno which one you wanted me to answer this about, so all three it is! 

Note: By the way, this got very long and holds what probably counts as spoilers, so I’m putting it under a ‘keep reading’ to keep things contained. 

fear: What is your OC's greatest fear? What do they do when confronted with it? Are they open with their fear, or do they hide it away?

For Cole, his greatest fear has to be full-out honest-to-god helplessness. Cole’s got pretty major trauma, which I’ve acknowledged at even the first time I’ve written about him, and I’ll talk about it more in later installments, but to put it plainly, he got abducted by a vampire as a preteen to act as said vampire’s personal thrall and servant. Vampiric persuasion doesn’t work on Cole for a very mundane but easily overlooked reason (I’m already littering the text with tiny clues here and there), but a terrified, traumatized kid is very easy to keep in line. Being fed on so often during a crucial part of his development had its…effects on him, physical, mental and emotional. Daniel’s the only reason why he managed to get out before his captor…well, Cole is decently attractive. He made a cute kid, and had a pretty face as a teenager. That should be enough context. He still refuses to let anyone other than Daniel touch his bare skin. 

No, he doesn’t talk about it. Yes, Daniel is fully aware of all this, but Daniel knows more about Cole than literally any other person on the planet. But Cole doesn’t like to think of it- he just makes sure that he will never be so helpless again. 

Abelard’s greatest fear is actually drowning. Yep, he’s the one with the panic-spiking irrational phobia, nothing overly deep, just a deeply visceral terror which he has never been able to relinquish. Almost like a forgotten childhood trauma come back to bite him in the ass… He’s a vampire, so it’s not going to kill him, but damn would something that simulates the experience of drowning mess with his head. You know, like being waterboarded. He doesn’t like to acknowledge it at all, finds it mortifying. So far, Cole doesn’t know about this, but there’s plenty of time to find out…

Daniel can’t deal with failure- and by failure, I don’t mean just failing something once, I mean he will throw himself against a metaphorical brick wall again and again in order to make something work. If, despite his best efforts, he cannot succeed, his self-esteem will take a major, major blow. Blame it on his adoptive father; he tried his best, but being a vampire hunter means that you either start off screwed up before taking up the mantle or end up screwed up just to survive, so he was…tough. So far in his life, hard work has carried Daniel through pretty much everything he’s faced thus far- there’s a reason why he’s one of the top hunters in the country, and has managed to reach his forties despite being in the business since he was literally a child- but hard work doesn’t always work out. Not everything can be succeeded at. And oh, does it punch him right in the gut when success is no longer possible. It’ll probably be what gets him killed one day. 

skin: How comfortable is your OC in their skin? Do they grapple with anything that lives inside them—a beast, a curse, a failure, a monster? How do they face the smallest, weakest, most horrible version of themself? Are they able to acknowledge it at all?

I’d say that, at the start of the story, all three of my ocs are pretty comfortable in their own skins! 

Daniel is the most self-aware, actually, but this doesn’t make him an actually good person- I might write a series about what he gets up to at some point- and he’s also the most at peace with himself, horrors and all. He sees himself as a person- not bad, not good, mostly outside of moral contexts. He’s aware of just how much of a monster he can be, and just how much of a saint he can be at the very same time. Very comfortable with his inner nature. 

Close after him is Cole, after having received a lot of therapy, catharsis and a caretaker who refuses to quit at pretty much anything. He’s also quite self-aware, and has gotten mostly at peace with himself. But he still feels like that terrified, helpless, useless child he used to be still lurks within his marrow, and he will do anything to keep from becoming so weak again. 

Then there’s Abelard. Outwardly, he’s very confident and sure of himself, proud of being an apex predator whose very voice none can resist (except for one person before Cole shows up). He’s powerful, very much so, and he damn well knows it. Very comfortable with his body too (though all three of them are). The problem, of course, is that Abelard was not always a vampire, and wasn’t always a vampire with nobody to fear either. He still does not deal well when forced to confront the fact that no, relying on his vampiric persuasion (which is strong enough to even work on other vampires) was not the smartest of moves to make, and he damn well knew it. Ultimately, it’s that vulnerability which he hides behind his entitled arrogance. As well as the person he used to be, over a century ago, before he got so used to the bloodshed, gore and indifferent decadence littering vampiric high society. He’s not that person anymore, that person is very much dead, but he refuses to think back to when he was that person. It hurts too much. 

The feeling of being a rabid beast who needs to be contained comes later into the story, thanks to Cole’s, ahem, influence. 

wound: How does your OC handle being wounded? Are their wounds mostly physical? Mental? Emotional? What's the worst wound your OC has ever experienced?

Physically, all three of these guys deal well with being physically wounded- mostly, anyway. Daniel and Cole are both vampire hunters and have gotten hurt quite a bit in their line of work, and they’re good with remaining clinical and unbothered by all their wounds while ‘on-the-hunt’, just patch up and go. It’s a survival skill, nothing more, nothing less. Abelard, on the other hand, actually deals with injuries fairly well- when it’s not silver. Silver will typically just make him very, very mad- so long as no survival instincts rear their head. 

Now, worst wounds. Hmmm…

Daniel once literally got (lightly) vivisected by a vampire he was hunting! That was fun! Especially for Cole, who was the one who had to drag his mentor’s sorry ass to safety and to emergency medical services for what Cole couldn’t patch up himself. He’s still got the scars. Annoyingly chipper about the whole incident, which is a one-way track to inflaming Cole’s temper. 

Cole…well, see vampire-abduction-enslavement above. I’d say that counts as the worst scarring he has ever received on a mental and emotional level. Yes, he's also got physical scarring from the experience too. Moving on.

Abelard…well, I’d say this experience, the story focused on Abelard’s torture and conditioning, will be the worst thing to ever happen to him, when taking into account the fact that he is going to get whumped quite a bit and get mindscrewed over for the sake of Cole’s ‘domestication theory’, but before now? Uh…his sire was a very messed-up person! Let’s just leave it at that for now! 

Thanks for sending this my way! It was pretty fun to round my characters out like this a bit more!

[ourlastpage]

[ ella purnell, cis woman, she/her. ] ✧･ﾟ is that [ eve vespertilio ] who just stumbled into town? rumour has it that they’re the [ twenty-six ] year old child of [ vampire barron ] from [ nightmare before christmas ]. i’ve also heard that they’re [ attentive ] but [ aggressive ] and have [ two ] siblings. i could almost swear i heard [ enemy - imagine dragons ] playing when they appeared.

eve was one of three children born to the vampire baron of halloweentown. from the beginning, she was a bit of a challenge to deal with – always hungry and throwing a fit. it was thought she would calm down with age, but she never did. however, it was easy for her father to handle her by simply allowing her to do what she wanted. his philosophy was that his children would be able to figure themselves out on their own. and, through their own mistakes, they would figure out who they really were without his influence telling them how they should be.

eve was close with her siblings and many cousins. she trusted them the most out of anyone and would always spend time with them. however, she liked going out on her own – hunting and stalking through the night. she definitely held the idea that vampires were at the top of the food chain and that they deserved to be there. she viewed humans as food and playthings, always having wanted to keep one as a ‘pet’ – a glorified bloodbag if you will. unfortunately, she was never able to accomplish this as she was constantly intercepted from taking any humans from their world to halloweentown.

she still went out plenty of times, however. she indulged whenever she could, often invading human clubs to do so. she loved the feel of the bass, the flashing lights, and the carefree nature of humans. she never had any plans for herself other than to live a completely hedonistic life. she thought herself invincible – humans and supernatural creatures alike not having the right to stop her. of course, her attitude, overconfidence, and flagrant behaviour was starting to catch the attention of some hunters in one of the areas she frequented. luck would have it, though, that she was brought to this new town without getting stuck in a confrontation with them.

               basics:                   full name:  eve vespertilio                   nicknames:  n/a                   gender:  cis woman                   pronouns:  she / her                   sexuality:  bisexual                   age:  26                   occupation:  n/a                   species:  vampire

               appearance:                   faceclaim:  ella purnell                   height:  5′4’’                   eyes:  light brown                   hair:  brown                   piercings:  three in each ear                   tattoos:  n/a                   other distinguishing features:  reflective eyes                   style:  think e-girl, slightly less over-the-top

               personality:                   traits:  aggressive, entitled, attentive, ambitious                   likes:  dancing, loud music, velvet, darkness                   dislikes:  sun, wind, hyper people                   fears:  n/a                   phobias:  sun / daytime                   hobbies:  clubbing, wine tasting                   skills:  hunting                   quirks:  n/a                   pet peeves:  rambling

               family:                   mother:  unknown                   father:  vampire baron                   siblings:  two, alessandro & other                   birth order:  eldest                   spouse / lover:  n/a                   children:  n/a                   pets:  n/a                   notable close relatives:  n/a

[adamwatchesmovies]

Nokturno (2024)

I’ve been thinking a lot about John Carpenter these last few weeks – mostly because of Halloween but also because I’ve run out of space on my movie shelves and need to do some trimming. I have a very nice edition of 1980’s The Fog that will have to go because every time I sit down to watch it, I think “Maybe THIS time, I’ll fall in love with the movie” and I never do. It’s such a straightforward telling of its ghost story that at feature length, it feels excessive. I’ve seen everything it does within a half-hour somewhere else. I wonder if I would feel the same about Nokturno had I been familiar with the Filipino folklore that inspired it before hitting "Play". Because I had never heard of the Kumakatok before, I didn’t know what to expect. The ending is particularly good in a “you rarely see movies do this” kind of way.

Kumakatok are ghost-like, hooded figures that knock on doors in the middle of the night. Opening to them invites a fatal curse into your home. Jamie (Nadine Lustre) never took her mother’s stories of the Kumakatok seriously. When her sister dies and the police declare it a suicide, Jamie believes the family superstitions finally pushed her over the edge, while her mother (Eula Valdez) insists the evil spirits are to blame.

When Nokturno begins, you think you can see where it’s going. Joanna (Bea Binene) confesses to Manu (Wilbert Ross) that she heard knocking on her front door three nights ago, that she opened it and that since, she’s been haunted by frightening visions that tell her tonight she’s going to die. Once Jamie begins entertaining the idea that something supernatural caused her sister’s death, she begins investigating. It feels A LOT like the opening of The Ring. It is at first, but the film takes an unexpected direction during the final act. You won't see that frightening ending coming despite it feeling like what a “real” ghost story would be like. It does away with aspects of the genre that in hindsight, feel more like story conventions or building blocks to ensure audiences receive a standard, three-act structure.

Helping Nokturno is that it exploits already-scary ideas. If you hear knocking at your door after sunset, even if you're expecting visitors, you pause it. There’s a part of you that’s scared to look through that peephole. You wonder what kind of crazy person or sinister creature might be out there, in the dark, asking to be let into your home. Even in the daytime, if you hear knocking on your door and you open it, only to find no one standing there… you’ll be a little shaken. “Was I just tricked? Did I do exactly what something malevolent wanted me to do?” That’s on top of the moody lighting, the Kumakatok’s design, the idea of going mad, of seeing something so scary you’d rather die than confront it, or of being murdered by something that makes it LOOK like you killed yourself.

In hindsight, Nokturno is a "no bells or whistles" ghost story but it does what it wants to do well. You sympathize and relate with the protagonist. You understand the relationship she has with her family - it's a big theme in the film. It's got plenty of scary scenes and for many viewers, its monsters and rules will be a breath of spooky-fresh air. (Original Tagalog with English subtitles, Nov 1, 2024)

[positivlyfocused]

How “Wishful Thinking” Creates “Fuck Yeah!” Results

Holy smokes. I might as well turn this series into a permanent thing. So many clients are getting happy results from their “wishful thinking”.

“Wishful thinking”, of course, is not what I call it. I call it the Positively Focused Way. “Wishful thinking” is what people who don’t know anything about what they’re talking about call this “you create your reality business.”

They’ve never tried it. Or if they have, they’ve done so under shoddy conditions, conditions which were bound to have them fail. Or they’ve tried it without someone helping them figure out how the “business” works, so they missed it actually working.

Meanwhile, lots of people, under the right circumstances and under a someone who knows this “business” are finding happy lives and happy life results putting this “wishful thinking” to work.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve written about two examples. You can read those stories here and here. I still have two more to share. This one is short but really sweet.

Let’s get to it.

In disbelief dreams are uncomfortable

This client I’ll call “Gus”. He’s been practicing this “you create your reality business” for 14 weeks. Through weekly sessions and the homework, he’s learning that the Positively Focused Way produces astonishing outcomes, just like I promise. Just like Abraham, Seth, Neville Goddard and many others promise also.

Gus is a musician. He performs covers at his local famers’ market. Like many musicians, he dreams about becoming successful and playing before thousands. However, Gus’ beliefs, like many, many artists of all kinds, block that success. Even though he’s already created that success for himself —  that success awaits Gus in a probable future reality —  which can be his future as soon as he lines up with it.

But 15 weeks ago, Gus didn’t realize any of this. That’s why he avoided his dreams. Thinking about them was too uncomfortable. Whenever he fantasized about being famous, his old beliefs would say “get real!” “be realistic!” and “grow up!” Then he’d imagine the thousands of artists, maybe hundreds of thousands, that aren’t successful at their art.

That lack of success he saw as his future. No wonder his dreams made him uncomfortable. He didn’t believe they’re possible.

Our itches will lead to joy

It’s true, of course, that many, many artists aren’t successful, if you measure success by how much income they get from their art. Yet, even by that measure, there are plenty who are successful. The only thing differentiating the latter from the former are the two groups’ beliefs.

That’s right. It’s not talent, contacts, “lucky breaks” or any other factor keeping a person from whatever success they want. The only thing doing that is what the person thinks and believes about being successful.

For example, Gus can not fathom how he could replace his current six-figure salary he gets working at a utility company. The reason why he can’t fathom it is because it’s not Gus’ job to figure out how that happens. That’s the Universe’s job. Gus’ job is to line up with his desire, feel good in doing that, which tells him something really important, then watch as the Universe delivers the probable future in which he swaps his utility salary for a performing one.

In the meantime, Gus hits farmers’ markets and the occasional spot gig to scratch the itch. Yes, it’s an itch. We know we have desires because those things catch our attention from time to time. They’re our Broader Perspective encouraging us in the direction of our joy. 

But most of us will ignore those itches. Or worse; we’ll talk ourselves out of them in favor of living in “the real world” as one reader of my stories calls it.

Life just gets better and better

The thing is, there IS NO REAL WORLD out there. The only world we exist in is the world reflecting back to us our thoughts and beliefs. And if we believe that that world is full of disappointment and things we must confront and struggle against…well that is the world we see and experience.

Meanwhile, there are a ton of people living in other worlds. Worlds where life is easy. Where life is good. Worlds where people are happy and joyful. And in their happiness and joy, they’re getting everything they want effortlessly.

Gus is figuring out how to turn his current world into the world you just read about. It all starts with “wishful thinking”. When a person starts thinking wishful, their world instantly starts changing. Actually, what’s really happening is, the person begins phasing out of their current probable now, and phasing into an adjacent probable now. One aligned with all their desires. One where probable futures connected to that probable now contain all they desire. So the person’s life gradually gets better and better.

It doesn’t happen over night because this “you create your reality” business isn’t magic. But consistency and application of easy processes makes the phasing happen effortlessly.

The wife creates a better Gus

Gus started using those processes 14 weeks ago. In doing so, the Universe showed him all the beliefs he holds which keeps him in the reality he currently is reflecting back to himself. I won’t go into those details, but suffice it to say it was a life he didn’t want. It was so unsatisfying, he left his wife and considered killing himself.

Meanwhile, his wife, a 65-week client, used this “you create your reality business” to create a better version of Gus. As a result of her focus and intention, Gus changed his mind about killing himself, moved back into his marriage and is seeing that marriage blossom.

In fact, it was evidence his wife was producing in her way of being that had Gus try the Positively Focused Way in the first place. And she became a client because she saw her mother radically transform. Her mother is a 174-week client. The mom’s son also is a client. In fact, her mother’s intention and focus was that her children would begin practicing too. That’s happened.

So this “wishful thinking” stuff is powerful. It delivers everything one wants. Including ideal versions of people we interact with.

Ok, back to Gus.

^^As Gus’ wife’s experience shows, there’s something behind this “you create your reality” business. (Photo by Frank Leuderalbert on Unsplash)

Vibration attracts

He sent me an audio recording last week. It was two days after our session. He was super-stoked about what happened and wanted to share “the cool experience” he just had.

Gus said he had a gig scheduled at a local bar. But the owner called him to tell him they needed to cancel.

“They didn’t have enough patronage to cover what me playing there would incur for them,” he said in his message. Gus described how he used the Positively Focused Way to manage his emotions about this message. That’s crucial if one wants to have what one wants.

That’s because emotions act like a compass. They tell us in what direction we’re headed relative to our goals. Negative emotions tell us we’re heading in the opposite direction, generally speaking. Positive ones do the opposite. Emotions happen as a result of thoughts we think. Most people don’t understand this. They think emotions happen as a result of something that happens outside us.

That’s not what’s happening.

Emotions are physical manifestations of vibrational focus.

We are all energy that is aware. Like all energy, we vibrate and our vibration attracts. We set our vibration through focus and that focus creates thought, which is a forward evolution of vibration. Hold that thought long enough and it will manifest as an emotion. Keep holding that thought and the thought will manifest as physical reality becoming the reflection of the vibration we’re holding “in” us.

When it does that, most people will see the physical manifestation and think it happened randomly or coincidentally. That’s because they don’t know what you just read.

Events are not random nor coincidental.

The “fuck yeah” manifestation happens

All physical manifestation happens from our focus. And when we focus on what we don’t want, that’s what shows up in physical reality – which again is just a reflection of our inner vibrational state.

Ok, back to Gus’ message:

“I didn’t react [negatively],” he continues. “I was just like ‘hey, that makes sense, I’ll see you on the next one. It’s all good! I wasn’t feeling disappointed at all. It would have been cool to play and have engagement with those folks, but it will happen again.”

Not being upset, again, was critical. Gus did well here. It’s no surprise then what happened next.

The next day, Gus gets a text from someone who also plays at the farmers market. Gus describes what they said:

“[The message said], I have this person that wants me to play music for a private party but I can’t do it the day they’re looking for. Are you available and interested?” Gus explained.

Gus continued: “Long story short, I am going to play this gig for these people, and it’s going to be for more than [what I would make at the cancelled gig], for less time, and it’s amazing and I just wanted to share that all of this shit is so good; my feeling about [negative energy] and just like, vibrational alignment and stuff, I’m just watching all these things that are coming back to me…and it’s just like you said about thinking about [reality] like a game. It’s all free flowing, there are always other opportunities…Fuck yeah!”

It’s all a happy game

Gus’ experience is typical of all my clients. The world of “wishful thinking” is the world everyone wants to live. It creates “fuck yeah!” experiences all the time. But if we think “wishful thinking” is stupid, or that it’s “not a life strategy” like many, many people do, including that person who commented on my previous post, then such people live in lives that, in her words, suck.

I’m happy I don’t live in that world. My clients are finding new, happier worlds than that one exist too. One by one, they’re finding this “you create your reality business” not only results in happy worlds and happy lives, they allow one to live in any world one wants to live in.

That’s because we all are divine, eternal beings enjoying a human existence. One we tailor ongoingly to our desires through vibrational focus. For many, their existence comes filled with some of what they want and a lot of what they don’t want.

But that’s because they aren’t using the “you create your reality business” deliberately. Instead, they’re doing it unconsciously. So they don’t get what they want; they get what they focus on. And a lot of people focus more on what they don’t want than what they want.

When they start doing the latter though….wow. For those people, the world becomes, in Gus’ words a happy “fuck yeah!” game.

[mindbat]

Books Read in January and February

Attempting to get back on a more regular blogging schedule here. Maybe not every week, but more often than once a year, at least? 😅

With that in mind, here’s a rundown of the books I read in January and February. As always, they’re listed in reverse-chronological order (so the most recently-read one is listed first, the one I read just before that is second, and so on).

Have you read any of these? If so, what did you think of them?

If you haven’t read them, but end up checking one or more out later, come back and let me know your take 😊

Orwell’s Roses by Rebecca Solint

An excellent and extended reminder of the value of beauty and art, even, or especially, in troubled times.

I’ve been reading Solint’s essays in The Guardian for years, but this is the first proper book of hers I’ve read. Not sure what the others are like, but this one’s variations on a theme (roses, and the cultivation thereof) give the book both plenty of scope but also allows her to go deep on several periods of Orwell’s life and work that normally get overlooked. Part biography, part literary criticism, part manifesto (in the gentlest possible sense), I recommend this to anyone who feels like tackling the major issues of our time — climate change, fascism, corporate power — means we have to forego the many things that bring us pleasure.

Doppelganger by Naomi Klein

Grabbed this one not just because Klein is a great writer (I loved both No Logo and Shock Doctrine), but because I’ve been guilty, multiple times, of the exact doubling she talks about at the start of the book: getting her confused with Naomi Wolf. Which might have been an innocent mistake back in the 90s or early 2000s, but these days, with Wolf firmly embracing conspiracy theories and right-wing fanatics, is a serious category error.

With such a start, this is very different from Klein’s previous books. It’s more personal, for one, with Klein sharing more details about her personal life (her autistic son, for example) that would never have made it into her other work. But it’s stronger for it. Because in making it personal, when Klein talks about the shift in perspectives needed to confront the mirror world that seems to be opening up on the right, she’s talking about work that she’s doing herself, not just finger-wagging (not that she did that in previous books, but with this subject it’s easy to descend to simple shaming).

The result is a book that I’d recommend to anyone on the Left that has spent the last few years watching friends and loved ones disappear down a rabbit hole of conspiracy and lies, and wondering just what the f*ck is going on.

Roman Law and the Legal World of the Romans by Andrew M. Riggsby

I’m currently working on an urban fantasy where the main character is a lawyer, but working in a legal system quite different from both the US and Canadian traditions. I’ve decided to model it after the legal system of ancient Rome, hence this book (which itself was recommendedby one of my favourite blogs on ancient history).

And it was exactly what I needed: a general and readable introduction to both the concepts of Roman law and the sources we have, with an extensive bibliography to serve as a jumping off point for further research.

The Final Girl Support Group by Grady Hendrix

Another nail-biter by Hendrix. Somehow he’s become my go-to when I’m in the mood for horror. His books hit that 80s-nostalgia-but-updated sweet spot for me, and this one was no exception.

Children of Ash and Elm: A History of the Vikings by Neil Price

Less a history and more of a reconstruction of Viking society. Price is interesting in that he’s an archeologist writing history, so he approaches things from a literal ground-up perspective. But he doesn’t ignore the written sources, either (they’re just not his first choice).

He does, however, eschew narrative in favour of trying to capture the general pressures and changes that drove the Viking Age. The result is fascinating in a cultural sense, but the final picture is more like just a blurry-lined sketch, because without a narrative spine to hang things on, he can’t pull all his threads together to weave a unified image.

Contrast Femina, which zooms in on very individual stories told via archeological and written sources to tell a story of women’s roles throughout the Middle Ages. Each story builds on the ones that came before, finding the universal in the particular, and creating a narrative through-line for the book to cohere around.

All Systems Red by Martha Wells

The first in the Murderbot series. I confess I put off picking these up because of all the rave reviews (can it really be that good?) and a bit of snobbery about their length (full price for a novella?).

But it is as good as everyone says. Novella length means all the fat has been trimmed away, leaving nothing but lean prose and tension. Wells is an experienced and skilled writer, and it shows on every page. Doesn’t end the way I expected (or wanted), but can see why it had to.

I’ve already grabbed the next three.

[kurt-wagner-official]

Post #44: UXM issue 180

Although there’s been plenty of mini crossovers, this issue is the first time a cliffhanger leads from one book to the next, so it gets its own post. It opens with something we’ve never seen, Xavier goofing off. His physical therapy finally paid off in the last issue of New Mutants, and now he’s running around the school basketball court, pretending he’s playing against pros. It’s a side pf him we haven’t seen, and it adds dimensions to his character that he didn’t really have before. I love that he’s getting development beyond just being a dick to his students, but I hate that Claremont didn’t really seem interested in doing that until he could walk. It feels unintentionally ableist, like her wasn’t a three-dimensional character until he had legs. The weird part is that for the first year of the New Mutants book, he couldn’t walk, but he was still given a lot of depth, with exploration of his relationship with Lilandra and a lot of great moments where he was either helping his students or struggling with trying to. It’s not until this point that we start seeing that kind of depth to Xavier in the main book, which is very weird. The first time I read Claremont’s run was just the main book and the essential crossovers. Since then I’ve read some more New Mutants, but never the whole run, and this is my first time reading them side by side. Xavier in particular is a much better character when you’re reading his stories in both books. Anyway, he’s interrupted by the same psychic scan that’s happened a few times, which he still can’t find the source of. Ororo comes in and talks about her fears that she’s becoming a monster. In some ways, she feels freer than she ever has, but she’s also giving up values that she’s had all her life- namely, her code against killing that she broke with Callisto. Kitty’s feeling the same fears, and confides them in Doug. As always, she can’t deal with change, and this time the thing that’s changing is Ororo, who she thought was the most constant thing in her life. Elsewhere, Peter confides in Logan how he fears Kitty has more in common with Doug than him, and wonders if their relationship is over. Dear God, I wish it were already. We cut back to Ororo, who’s now in the Bronx botanical gardens. We learn that when she got rid of her plants, she brought them here. She hasn’t lost her connection to life, like she and her team feared. It’s as strong as ever, but she doesn’t know if she cares anymore. The plants represent her soul as it was before her transformation. She still visits this part of herself often, and she speaks to the plants and waters them like she did, but she keeps them at a distance. Her musings are interrupted by a mugging in the greenhouse. She beats up the muggers and summons a storm that frightens them off, but their victims are more scared of her than their attackers. When she returns to the mansion, Kitty tells everyone about Doug’s invitation to the Massachusetts Academy, and says she’s accepting his invitation to accompany him to the interview. Xavier reveals that Doug, unknown to him, is a mutant with the ability to comprehend any language, which is why he’s so good at understanding computer programming. After the meeting ends, Ororo sweeps Kitty into the air and they finally talk through their problems. Ororo says that she’s not sure what’s happening to her, but it’s been building for a while, and Yukio helped her realize it. Being an X-Man has made her confront parts of herself that she didn’t know existed, and she has to change and evolve to survive. She doesn’t like everything that she’s learning about herself, but she has to keep exploring her identity to find her truest self. She says that if Kitty loves her, she should accept and support her the way Ororo does her. More than anything, this feels like a coming out speech. Ororo is unsure of herself, but she’s starting to feel like the person she was meant to be, and she’s finally willing to allow herself to explore that. It’s a beautiful and powerful speech, and by the end, Kitty is still scared, but she’s willing to support Ororo. We end with two cliffhangers. The first is Kitty and Doug getting on a Massachusetts Academy private jet to go to the school, only to find Emma Frost on board with them. The second is Xavier finally finding the source of the psychic scans he’s been feeling and leading the X-Men to a massive, mysterious gate, which they’re sucked into. That thread will be followed up on in the Secret Wars miniseries, but first, Kitty’s story continues in the pages of New Mutants.

[lemonjoonah]

The Garden Thief (M)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Word Count: 9.3K Genre: Hybrid AU, romance/drama/comedy, enemies to lovers Warnings: Unprotected sex, oral sex (fem. rec.), they get down and dirty outside but no one else is there to see them, cum play? (just a little), there’s also a bit of mud (sorry, but also not sorry, they’re outside what do you want from me?!?!), referenced hybrid neglect and oppression (hybrids are wrongfully deemed as pets by law and the majority of society).  

Summary: Your beloved vegetable patch has once again been victimized by a hungry thief in the night. The prime suspect? Jeon Jungkook, your neighbour's rabbit hybrid. But when you finally confront him, he pleads innocent, and proposes a plan to clear his name.

A/N: I wrote this fic’s premise and opening scene for the ‘A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words Game’ that I played oh so long ago and now I’ve finally finished the tale!

...

“Oh for fuck’s sake, not again!” You swear upon seeing the leafy green remains of several carrots lying in your garden, inches from where they used to be buried. This maddening mystery of the vanishing vegetables has been playing out all summer. You’ve set out deterrents for every possible garden pest, rolling out chicken wire and spraying natural remedies to repel anything from bugs to small rodents. Yet you still wake to find that your garden has been robbed in the night. The only possible suspect you haven’t been able to protect against resides just next door, in fact—

You squint up at the boarded fence, spotting a pair of long dark ears peeking out over the posts. “Jungkook, is that you?”

The ears immediately disappear, ducking down behind the barrier. The sound of his hurried footsteps trailing away are followed only by the slamming of a door.

You rush into and through your own house carrying the wilted carrot greens. Exiting out the front, and over to the house next to yours, where you repeatedly press the bell.

The entry whips open on the fourth ring to reveal Jungkook. His face is flushed, beads of sweat racing down his brow, and a shirt that one would normally use to cover their chest, is instead thrown over his shoulder. “Something wrong neighbour?” He asks with a carrot stick in hand. Bringing it to his mouth, he taunts you with a bite and crooked grin.

“Is-is your caretaker home?” You stutter trying your best to swallow your nerves. Concentrating hard on his face, you plead with your eyes not to wander down. That’s exactly what he wants, a reason to put you off your mission, to make you so flustered that you have to walk away. He’s always trying to use his allure against you, and you hate how often he succeeds doing just that...  

“No, he’s at work.”

“When will he be back?”

“Not sure, maybe a week, or two? He’s on a business trip.”

Your gaze falters in it’s determination for a brief second as a drop of sweat descends from his neck to his chest. Holding your breath you watch it’s path, tracing the valleys between his muscles. When Jungkook finally wipes it away your brain catches up and scolds you for your weakness. “And he left you here, alone?”  You ask, while trying to recollect your dignity, reminding yourself of how much grief he has put you through.

“Of course.” Jungkook’s smile grows. “I’m not just some common pet. I know how to behave myself.”

The statement makes your brow twitch, enraging you enough to overcome his tactics. “I know you haven’t been here long, but you should know, people typically don’t like it when someone steals from their yard.” You lecture him, waving the carrot tops in front of his face. “So stop treating my garden like your own personal snack bar!”

“Now why would I take from you? I have plenty of food here, even got another delivery this morning.”  The hybrid kicks at a box next him filled with a vibrant collection of fresh produce and grains.

“I don’t know why. I just know it was you.”

“Prove it.” He prods, while taking the last bite of the vegetable from his hand.

The loud crunching gnaws on your composure, stripping you of any patience you may have had for the hybrid. “This all started when you moved in, and I’ve ruled everything else out!” You shout, but as good as it might feel to finally vent your anger, you feel as though you’re somehow playing into his hand.

“That doesn’t seem like very good evidence. It’s circumstantial at best. If you want to find out who the real culprit is you should have a stake out.”

“A stake out?”

“Yeah, you know, watch over the garden for the night, catch the criminal in the act. I could even help if you’d like.”

You scoff at the ridiculous notion. “You really think I should invite you over to guard my crops?”

“I do, so I’ll come over tonight? Say around seven?” You open your mouth to object, but the rabbit hybrid jumps from one statement to the next casually inviting himself into your own home. “Perfect. See you then.”

“I didn’t-no wait, that was sar-” The door closes between you before you can finish. Leaving you baffled and alone on the doorstep. You ready to knock but stop just before your knuckles hit the wood. Trying again right now is a lost cause, it’ll just play into his game. So why waste your breath when you know it’ll just end the same way? Tonight then, as he suggested, that’s when you’ll be ready to hit him with some hard evidence that he won’t be able to refute.

Admitting defeat for now, you retreat back to your garden to pick the surviving vegetables and contemplate the encounter. You wish your could have just spoken to Jungkook’s caretaker—fuck what was his name again? You’ve only seen the man a couple times since they took the house, but at least he doesn't give you a nervous knot in your stomach, or leave you confused and speechless like his hybrid does.

It’s been three months since they moved in. You were excited at first, to have new neighbours in your almost vacant cul-de-sac. Buyers don’t seem to be interested in the old houses with large lots in your area. Too much work to maintain, and not enough good job prospects to go around. So when you saw the sold sign go up you were beyond thrilled. Greeting the new residents with a fruit basket and a smile.

The rabbit hybrid you now know as Jungkook appeared rather shy at first, you did your best to welcome him. Always greeting him when he was outside, trying to engage him in small chat, but the first time you caught him during his workout everything changed. Until that point you had not considered him as anything but a prospective friend. You were stunned to see him in such a confident state, throwing around his weights like they were nothing. In that moment, with you too nervous to admit that you found him attractive, you became the anxious and blubbering fool in his presence, and he, unfortunately, took note. The once quiet and cute rabbit, became a flirtatious and bratty bunny.

And since then, whenever you would work in your garden he’d be on the other side of the fence grunting and panting. Staying close to the gap in the divider, a missing panel you had yet to replace. On days like today you would often look up from your radishes and accidentally lock eyes with the hybrid, drenched in sweat and showing off his skills.

Out of respect and self preservation you tried your best to not to pay attention, to keep your nose buried in your garden, but as the weeks went by the vegetables under your care started to disappear. The ample crops you tended to in the evening, lessened by morning, with only the refuse remaining to indicate it’s former presence. You didn’t want to point fingers immediately, but today was the final straw, and tonight no matter how hard he tries to distract you, you will find him guilty.

After harvesting the choice crops for the day and watering the rest. You dust yourself off, settling inside and in front of your computer; opening the visitors page for your place of work, the city's greenhouse conservatory. To help promote the centre in the community the staff all take turns writing articles revolving around their own projects or home gardens, and you’re up next in the rotation. You stare at the blank document for several minutes trying your best to concentrate on the task, but you are unable to think of anything other than the mischievous hybrid next door.

Embracing the topic of your aggravation, you start the post off with a title sure to catch the eye of any reader, ‘Garden Thieves.’

‘We’ve all been there, finding a tomato just about to reach its peak ripeness. We give it another day to grow into perfection, only to find it missing later on. In your absence something else has taken it into its own clutches. I myself have been dealing with a vegetable thief for several weeks, so if you are struggling like I am, here are a few things that might help. ’

You proceed to outline several garden pests uploading photos of their damage, along with quick remedies to deter their presence. Netting to block the sparrows, raised beds and fences to keep out most rodents or mammals, and a caffeine solution to stave off slugs.

‘I hope this may help you all in your efforts to keep your plants safe, but I must add a disclaimer. Unfortunately nothing here is completely foolproof. Even if you do follow all of these steps you still might lose some of your crops to a crafty critter. But I wish you the best of luck on all of your backyard battles. I myself plan to face off with my own long-eared menace tonight.’

You finish your post with a smile. Sending it off to your coworker Namjoon to get his approval before you make it public.

He calls a few minutes later, his laughter carrying through the speaker. “That was easily the best article you’ve written all year. You should definitely post it.”

“Thanks.” You chuckle, hitting the submit button. At the very least feeling a bit relieved to have one less task weighing on your mind. “I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. I take it you’re still having trouble with that hybrid neighbour of yours?”

“Yeah,” you groan. You’ve complained to Namjoon about the issue several times in the past month. It must have been all too easy for him to read between the lines and see what set you off to create this specific entry.  “But he refuses to admit it was him. It’s like he’s trying to make me question my skills as a gardener and I hate it! I went over to talk to his caretaker but he’s away on business for a couple weeks.”

“He left him alone for that long? What about food?”

“He’s been getting deliveries. By the looks of it, he has a healthier diet than I do.”

Namjoon pauses on the line giving you only a simple, “Huh...” in a long break.

“What?”

“Well it’s just-” A loud buzzing sound erupts through the phone line cutting off his answer. A noise you know to indicate someone is at the back door. “That’s weird. I didn’t think we were supposed to get anything delivered today. No one else is here.... did you have anything scheduled to come in?”

“No.” You double check the calendar sitting on your desk. “I shouldn’t have anything until next Monday.”  

Namjoon puts you on hold while he checks on the reason for the interruption, returning only a minute later. “It’s a delivery all right, but are you sure these aren’t yours? I’m seeing a lot of tropical species on the invoice. Combretum rotundifolium, Heliconia angusta, Myrciaria dubia-”

You mouth a swear as Namjoon carries on with his list. It’s obvious they are indeed the specimens of your expected batch. You're in the process of redesigning one of the tropical habitats. The lead director was adamant that the conservatory host a butterfly exhibition in the next coming year, and in order to support the grandiose endeavour you are required to introduce a vast amount of new flowering species over the next few months. “How many in total?”

“About two dozen. Looking pretty rough from the journey too.”

You’re not surprised by their current state. This summer is already one of the hottest and driest on record, and all the stock you had received this season was excessively wilted and near death because of it. “Do we have any holding houses with humidifiers available?”

“Not at the moment,” There’s a clatter in the background as Namjoon sorts through what must be the slack of clipboards. “But I’ve got the inspection chart here and your last delivery did just finish it’s quarantine. No signs of pests or illness, so they’re clear to plant. That should free up some space for you.”

“That’ll have to do. Thanks for checking.” Standing up from your desk with a sorrowful sigh. You mourn the loss or your afternoon off as you start to dress for a day of hard labour. Throwing on your work-issued overalls over your t-shirt and shorts. Unfortunately you can’t just leave the new stock to sit out under the beating sun. With little humidity outside and no protection they’ll be burnt to a crisp if you delay too long. But the worst part is that your planting staff isn’t scheduled until later in the week, and that volume of work will put you well into the middle of the night before you complete it. “I’ll be in soon to deal with it.”

“That’s a lot of planting to do on your own. I can help if you-”

“I can’t take you away from your trees, isn’t there a bonsai exhibition next week you have to prepare them for?” He’s been agonizing over this showcase for so long you couldn’t possibly inconvenience him now with your own troubles. “It’s fine, really. I’ll call to see if anyone else is willing to come in today.” You hang up letting Namjoon return to his tasks, and work your way down the contacts for the gardening staff as you prepare yourself to leave. Though as expected, all of those who answer have prior commitments and won’t be able to assist.

Grabbing your badge and plans for the updates to the garden you slip back out into the noon-day sun, so strong it’s turned your car into an oven on wheels. You’re just about to pull it into reverse when you spot the blinds shift in your neighbour’s window. Prompting you to recall the plans he had made for tonight.

With all the work you have, it’s doubtful you’ll be back home for seven. You return to Jungkook’s door to give him the news. He has it open before you can even knock, his usual smirk crawling across his face as he greets you.  

“About tonight... something has come up at work and I really don’t know how late I’ll be.”

His ears perk up. “You’re going into the conservatory?”

“Yeah,” you respond, somewhat shocked that he remembered where you work. It’s been a couple months since you mentioned it while introducing yourself to him and his caretaker. “An order came in earlier than expected. I’ll likely be planting all day and night.”

“I can help,” he offers, already stepping out to join you, and locking the door behind him.

“You want to help?”

“Of course, isn’t that the neighbourly thing to do?”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t want it or expect it from someone who terrorizes my own garden.”

“Allegedly,” Jungkook corrects. “And wouldn’t you rather have me with you, under your supervision, than here, all alone with only a measly fence between me and your impressive bell pepper harvest?”

“Stay away from my peppers!” You scold, pointing your finger at him. “Even if I wanted to take you, what about your caretaker? Don’t you need his permission to leave and work?”

“He’s never paid attention to my whereabouts before, and it’s not work if you don’t pay me. I’ll just be a volunteer. You have people volunteer all the time right?”

“Yes but-”  

“I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

“Alright, fine.” You finally agree though with a heavy dose of reluctance. Namjoon often brings his own hybrid in so it shouldn’t be a problem. “But if I see you nibble on even a single leaf, you’re coming straight back here.”

“Deal.” He rushes past you straight to your passenger seat and buckles himself in. Practically bouncing with excitement beside you as you pull out and head towards the conservatory.

The minutes pass and you try your best to focus on the road but you’ve never been so close to Jungkook in such a small space. And with his built frame taking up most of the car, he’s hard for you to ignore. His ears folded against the roof and his shoulders so wide they brush repeatedly against yours.

“Ever been to the conservatory before?” You ask, trying to divert your mind from the battle which builds inside you. A wavering war between frustration and attraction, with the former trying it’s best to pin down the latter, a move which only arouses the latter more...

“No, I’ve wanted to go ever since you mentioned it but my caretaker hasn’t had the time.”

“Oh.” A sense of pity joins the ranks of your emotions, nudging at you as you pull into the lot. “Sorry, I didn’t-”

“Why are you sorry?” Jungkook asks in a low whisper, snapping back to his flirtatious behaviours. His mouth turns up at the corner as he leans into you, so close that his drooping ears graze the top of your head.  “Would you have taken me earlier if I had mentioned it?”

“N-no,” you choke out. Placing your hand on his solid chest, you push him back and away. As tempting as his advance might be to accept, you know his forwardness to be nothing more than an act to make a fool of you. Why else would he try to both seduce you, and steal from right under your nose?  “You’re only here today because I am in desperate need of help, and I can’t trust you to be alone.”

...

You lead him through the unoccupied greenhouses. The conservation is closed to the public today (as it is every Monday and Tuesday); which usually allows for some time off, but at least now it’ll give you a chance to work unimpeded by visitors. Your own curated section is located in the most humid of all the houses, set in such a way to mimic the tropical environment you are attempting to represent.

The first stop is the holding house where the carts of new stock wait just outside.  Grabbing an empty trolly you enter and start to load up those that are ready to plant. Jungkook following your actions does the same, easily lifting the heavy planters that you yourself struggle with. “Thanks,” you whisper as he relieves you of a particularly burdensome tree. To which he smiles in return.

After making the switch, by placing the recent delivery in the house for it’s quarantine, you lead him to the supply closet. Where you collect a couple shovels, trowels, and two pairs of gloves. As you continue to scan for anything else you might require, Jungkook pops in behind looking at the shelves with a sense of curiosity. He reaches up and over you to a spray bottle labeled ‘slug repellent.’

“We won’t need that, it’s for the outdoor gardens,” You explain. “It’s just a mixture of ca-”

“Caffeine and water?”

You snap your gaze to him. “How do you know that?”

He bites his lip as a snicker starts to escape. “Just a bit of morning reading. I found an interesting article with that particular tidbit. One which also happened to reference the exploits of a long-eared menace.”

“Y-you read the conservatory blog? You read my post? No one reads that, there can’t have been more than ten views!”

“Which is such a shame.” He goads you. “I’ve found your work to be both informative and comical. You really have me rooting for you in your quest to catch your thief.”

You groan in utter fury. “Why must you be so-so-”

“Handsome? Funny? Caring?”

“Antagonizing!”

“Because you seem to take more notice when I am.” Jungkook answers, with a turn of his heel, his tail poking out from under his shirt as he starts to walk away with the cart. “And I like seeing that perplexed look of yours. Your nose is cute when you scrunch it up like that.”

You remain in the shed, your traitorous heart beating erratically over the fact that he called a part of you cute. While your more sensible side grabs your nose and smooths out the wrinkles he referenced.

“Should we get to work?” He calls out after you. “The sooner we finish, the sooner we can go home and expose that bandit of yours.”

You roll your eyes and follow him out, before taking the lead to your tropical glasshouse. The air sticks to your skin the moment you enter. Jungkook lets out a long exhale behind you tugging on the collar of his shirt. “Is it always like this in here?”

“It’s a bit warmer today, but not by much. Are you already regretting your decision to help?” You tease him.

“Nope,” he answers, slinging a shovel over his shoulder. “Show me where to dig, and I’ll get to it.”

Pulling out your plans for the new exhibit arrangement, you select a couple species placing them on the empty plots of garden as directed, careful to allow for future growth. Jungkook follows behind digging out their new homes faster than at least three of your staff members combined.

You stare at him for a second, unable to believe the pace at which he’s going. “Something wrong?” He asks, pausing to lock eyes with you.

“No, I just didn’t think you’d be so quick at digging.”

“I’m part rabbit, what did you expect?” Jungkook boasts with a chuckle and a raised brow. “I share their strengths. Especially when it comes to burrowing and fu-”      

His words are cut short when a fresh breeze from the outside washes over the both of you, a  sure sign that someone must have entered the greenhouse. Your neighbour goes rigid, his nose lifts into the air and his ears fall back flat against his head. “Jungkook what’s-” Leaping up he closes the gap and grabs you. Tucking you into him with his chin resting on your head, where a  warm and earthy scent envelopes you.  His breaths are quick and deep, causing his chest to rapidly rise and fall against your back.

Namjoon’s voice calls out to you. “... are you in here?”

“Over here!” You yell out in reply, before turning back to the hybrid who still has you locked in his clutches. “What the hell Jungkook? Let me go! Now’s not the time for your games.” Sure it might feel nice to be wrapped in his arms, to get lost amidst his aroma. At any other time you might even consider taking a moment before chastising his boldness. But here? Now? And with Namjoon coming to greet you? No, this is too much.

You try to push him away like you have before, but this time it’s as if he’s set in stone, and not registering you at all. He focuses only on the direction your coworker's voice hailed from. “That scent, he smells like-”

“There you are.” Namjoon interrupts stepping around a flowering bush and into view, looking surprised by your guest. “Oh, hello there.”

The point of Jungkook's chin rubs against your head as he grips you even tighter. Embarrassed and confused by the hybrids embrace. “Jungkook, this is Namjoon.” You introduce your coworker while delivering an elbow to Jungkook’s gut. He finally snaps out of his trace and lets you go though he continues to hover behind. “He works with the bonsai of the conservatory.”

“You must be the neighbour I’ve heard so much about, it’s nice to finally meet you.” Namjoon extends his hand to the hybrid, but Jungkook ignores the gesture, choosing to glare instead, with his nostrils flared and his ears pinned back.

“Jungkook?” You whisper trying to chase him from his mood.

Namjoon gives him a nervous smile. “You probably smell my hybrid, on me don’t you?”

“A hybrid?” Jungkook confirms, his eyes narrowed at Namjoon.

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t intend to scare you. I’m sure the scent of a predator, especially a tiger, is a bit of a shock. He’s harmless, I promise.”

“Is Taehyung here?” You ask, hoping to see his affectionate part-feline companion.  

“Nah, he’s with a friend today. I needed to get some work done and he’d be more of a distraction than a help... but it would seem that didn’t stop him from scenting my shirt before I left.” Namjoon explains, and then turns to your neighbour again. “Jungkook would you mind if I borrow her for a second? I need help with one of my tropical species.”

Jungkook gives a solemn nod. For the first time since you’ve known him, he looks frightened, and somewhat hesitant to release you over to your coworker.

Worried by his current disposition, you reassure him with a squeeze on his arm. “Just keep digging where I’ve placed those pots and I’ll be right back.”

Namjoon leads you into the adjacent greenhouse where you can continue to keep watch of Jungkook through the pains of glass. But the instant the doors close between you, Namjoon starts bombarding you with questions. “Why didn’t you tell me? How long has it been going on? ”

You take a step back having been caught off guard. “Tell you what?”

“About you and Jungkook! Is the feuding neighbours just a cover story?” Namjoon’s eyes are wide and hopeful as he carries on, not letting you fit a single word in. “Don’t worry, I won’t inform anyone you're together. I know it’s not easy having a human-hybrid relationship out in the open. But I think you should be careful about going out into public because he’s far too obvious about it.”

“We’re not- we’re not a couple. Why would you think such a thing?”

“Because the way held you, he looked like he was marking you with his own scent. That’s what rabbits do isn’t it? They rub their chins on what they want to claim as their own.”

“They do what?” You ask, stunned by the possibility, before the realism settles back in. It must just be Jungkook’s idea of a joke. “No, that’s not what he’s doing, our connection is nothing remotely like that. Don’t get me wrong he’s very attractive, and he knows it.” You mutter the last part under your breath. “But-”

“But you really are having trouble with him. It's not a cover?”

“You think I would keep something like that from you?” Namjoon over the years has come to be your closest confidant. A good friend and coworker, you would never dream of hiding something like that from him.

“I suppose not.”

“Is that why you brought me back here, to question my relationship status?”

“Not entirely.” Namjoon shakes his head with a small dimpled smile and changes the subject. “I do actually want to get your help with one of my new acquisitions.” He points out an unusual tree on his work bench, much too big for the pot it’s currently situated in. It’s extensive roots spill out over the top and threaten to swallow the pot whole. “A Ficus microcarpa, far from the most sought after species when it comes to reputable bonsai, but I couldn’t pass this one up. It has such good character.”

“What made it grow in such a way?” You examine the plant and it’s container with care, prying between the roots and taking note of cracks starting to form in the terracotta.

“The last owner neglected it for far too long. It sat hidden in the back of a commercial greenhouse, still under the watering and fertilizing system, but since it was confined to such a small space it tried to root it’s way out. If I were to guess, it probably hasn’t seen a new pot for at least five years.”

“It’s a miracle it survived.” You nod impressed by the tree’s determination. “What’s your plan for it?”

“Give it what it wants, let it leach out. I doubt I would be able to pry it out entirely without causing significant damage to the roots that are gripping the sides, so instead I want to put another bellow to catch it and give it the fresh soil and room it needs.” Namjoon lays the tree and pot down on the table, and asks you to hold and support the trunk, while he taps and pokes at the bottom of the vessel with a metal trowel.  Enlarging the cracks, but not breaking the pot fully. It’s a tedious process. The small chunks of clay are removed piece by piece, giving him access to see and free some of the tightly bound roots inside.

While your coworker continues his task, your eyes are free to wonder. You check on Jungkook through the glass, as he kneels in front of the garden bed digging even faster than before.

Namjoon appears to notice your distracted state. “How's he doing?”

“Fine I guess.” You whisper. “He’s acting stranger than usual today though. He stole from my garden again. Invited himself over to my house, then here, and you saw what he did back there.”

“Huh...” Namjoon mutters, trailing off the same way he did on the phone.

“What is this ‘huh’ you keep giving me? You know I don’t like games Namjoon. If you have something you want to say, say it.”

“It’s about what you said earlier, how his caretaker leaves for extended periods of time. Usually if an animal is alone for too long they look for ways to stimulate themselves and resort to their natural instincts, scavenging and such. But he’s a hybrid and therefore part human, so if you were isolated and restricted to your house what would you do?”

“Probably look for the closest person I could find. So he’s acting out in my garden and teasing me, because he’s lonely?”

“I think so.” Namjoon responds as he extracts another root, freeing it from its confines.

“But why?” You ask, worried for the answer to come. “Why wouldn’t he just say something?”

“There could be a number of reasons. He might not understand what he’s doing on a conscious level, or he might be afraid to show any sign of weakness to you or anyone else. Jungkook is part prey animal, and humans are all too often predators.”

“If that’s the case...” You curse yourself for not realizing it sooner. The fury you held for him slowly fades away as you replay every encounter in your mind. He was literally jumping at the chance to spend time with you, to help you with your work, and you were to blind to see it. Your anger over your missing vegetables is so trivial in comparison to what he must have been going through. The loneliness he must have felt, and the inability to admit it, you can’t imagine how he suffered through it alone. “What can I do to help him? I have no legal claim to him Namjoon. What can I do within such limitations?”

He looks down at his work in progress. “The way I see it  you and he, like this small tree, have three options. You could maintain the status quo, leave him be, but how long will he be able to survive like he is? Creeping over the edge but grasping on to nothingness?”

You shake your head vehemently rejecting the idea while Namjoon continues.

“You could report his caretaker for neglect, breaking the container entirely, but that too could be very damaging to him, tearing him away entirely could put him in a state of shock, and in a home that is no better for him, while the legal battle is decided. Or...” Namjoon grabs another container, slightly wider than the one in which the plant is seated. Filling it with substrate he takes the tree clinging to it’s partial pot and places it on top. Pressing the newly freed roots down into the soil.

“You could support him, give him a better home just outside of his own where he can be himself and access what he needs. I personally think it’s your safest option for now.” Namjoon leads over inspecting the bonsai and lowers his voice to an almost inaudible whisper. “Until the day, when it is possible to fully cast the pot aside.”

You nod, though now left to grapple with what you could possibly have to offer the hybrid.  “I’m not sure I would be the best person to care for him.”

“I think Jungkook would disagree. He was already trying to scent you. That to me, implies his desire for something more in the realm of an intimate relationship.” You choke on your breath as Namjoon comes to an additional conclusion. Upon seeing your distress he makes a suggestion. “Of course you could keep it strictly to friendship between the two of you and I’m sure that will improve his situation, but his other needs will need to be met for him to feel completely at home...”

“His other needs? You think he wants to be with me? Intimately?! No! Surely he would have acted differently if that was his intent! He’s done nothing but tease me when he catches me even remotely looking in his direction.”

“So you have been looking at him!” Namjoon taunts you with a massive grin. Apologizing a second later when you proceed to glare at him. “But to answer your question, no, not necessarily. You have to remember most of society deems him a lesser being. He could be feeling a lot of guilt and pressure not to engage with you in that way. Though he might not outright say it, I bet his instincts will continue to shine through. I’ll even prove it to you.” Namjoon takes off a glove and rubs your head. “I bet this rabbit of yours will take less than a minute before he tries to replace the smell of my hand with his own again... trust me.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “I should probably get back to him.” You are just about to step away when your thoughts return to the long neglected plant. “Where do you plan to house that when you’re finished? Ficuses naturally belong in a more tropical location don’t they?”

“They do, especially if I want to give it a better chance. It’s going to need a place far more humid than this space.”

“Was this all your calculated way of guilting me to store it in my greenhouse too?”

“The thought might have crossed my mind.” Namjoon gives you a sly grin.  “But my logic is still sound in regards to Jungkook. He needs someone, he needs a better home... and it would seem he’s chosen you.”

...

You wander back to your greenhouse, still full of doubt. Finding Jungkook to have finished most of the required digging.

“Sorry for leaving you.”

“You-you okay?” He asks, upon seeing the dazed look on your face and then scowling in the direction that Namjoon led you.

“Fine, he just needed help with one of his plants. Sorry about earlier, I didn’t think you’d be affected by the scent of his hybrid, Taehyung is rather sweet though, you’d like him.”

“You trust him then?” Jungkook grumbles as he pierces his shovel into the ground. “You trust Namjoon and his hybrid?”

“Of course, why shouldn’t I?”

“Because it wasn’t just a tiger that I smelled. He’s been around a lot of hybrids. Every scent on him told me to run, all of them put there by dangerous predators.”

“Oh,” you shoot back in surprise. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Taehyung is rather popular, he has a lot of friends and Namjoon often caters them at his place. You don’t need to worry, you're safe here.”

“It’s not myself I’m worried about.”

Jungkook inches closer as you crouch to place the plants in the holes he dug. His nose twitches as he takes a deep breath, his eyes watching while you bury the root ball in the warm soil, firmly securing the trunk of the young tree.

While you are leaning down, Jungkook reaches across to the other side of you. Grabbing the trowel to your right despite the fact that the same tool can be found on his left. The bottom of his chin grazes the top of your head and lingers for a spell. Your heart stops in that moment while questioning his motives. Though Namjoon said he’d do just this, you still can’t be entirely sure that it proves him correct; Jungkook might just not have seen the other option available to him, and he’s never bothered about invading your space. This could be nothing, though there’s a small growing part of you that wants it more and more to be something.

“He’s a good guy,” you promise, returning to the conversation so as to not dwell on his actions. “He even suggested that I should bring you along more often, if you’re interested in spending some of your days here.”

“He did?”

You nod.  A small white lie, but not entirely incorrect, and if it gets him to accept Namjoon easier you’ll all be better for it. “I wouldn’t expect you to work, but you're more than welcome to just hang around. The staff here could always use some company and I’m sure it would beat staying at home alone all day.”

“I would like that. I would like that a lot, but would you want me to keep you company too?”

“If that’s what you want to do.”

“No, I need to know if that’s what you want.” He looks over to you pinning you down in his line of sight.  

“I suppose I would....” You answer and turn your head, unable to bear the nerves that his gaze brings. The both of you fall quiet. Knowing what you know now, being free of your anger for him leaves you vulnerable, open to his persuasion, and now you are no longer certain of how to act. So you start to rely on what has made him comfortable in the past, and interject with a new condition to bring an end to the awkward silence. “As long as you treat this garden better than mine back home.”

Jungkook lets out a long laugh. “I have nothing but the highest respect for your garden.”

...

When planting is finished your clothes are entirely saturated in sweat and your muscles aching from use. It’s hard to believe how much you’ve both done in such a short amount of time. While carting up the supplies, Jungkook’s eyes catch on something behind you. You look around spotting the newly potted bonsai on a back table. Namjoon must have dropped it off while you both were busy.

Looking at it now you can’t help but notice how even the shape of its leaves remind you of the hybrid’s ears, long, pointed, and reaching up to the sky. You consider your friend's words one more time and while Jungkook leans over to inspect the tree. Reaching out to his back, your hand shakes with hesitation before setting down on a spot just below his shoulder. He softens under your touch, a low hum leaving his lips. His attention turns from the plant to you. With your hand still in place, your arm is now wrapped around him, leaving only an inch between the two of you. You stand there fixed and unmoving, but content in the knowledge, that you seem to have left him speechless this time. His eyes darting away from yours, to your lips, your neck, and finally the hand you place upon his chest.  

Only to have the moment broken when you can hear and feel the rumble from his stomach. His nervous laugh follows as he reaches up to scratch behind his ear.

“Hungry?”

He nods in response, his eyes wide as he remains unusually silent.

“Come on, I’ll buy you dinner.” You offer as you turn him around to head to the car.

...

You both settle on a take out spot, and return home to wash up and eat.

After finishing your meal and tearing off your overalls, you both settle down on the hammock in your yard. With Jungkook’s legs long enough to touch the ground, he slowly rocks the seat back and forth.  He’s been near silent since that close moment together. He’s never had a problem with banter and flirtation, but now you’ve come to notice that any attention which can’t be passed off as a joke causes him to flounder.

Laying back in the hammock, both full and content, your eyes threaten to close after the long day as Jungkook continues to sit beside you. The sound of crickets lulling you to sleep. “Keep an eye out for that thief of mine will you?” You may not like games but if it makes him comfortable, and keeps him talking, you’ll continue to play this ruse with him.

“You trust me to keep watch without your supervision?”

“Are you suggesting I shouldn’t?”

“No, it’s just a lot more credit than you usually give me.”

“I think you’ve earned it.” You whisper as you finally drift off.

It feels like only a few minutes of rest before the sun sets and the air turns cool. Jungkook’s chin comes to rest on the top of your head like it did back in the greenhouse. He shifts his weight, burrowing his arms around and behind to cover you as he takes deep breaths. You lean into him seeking the warmth of his chest. No longer restricted by your childish anger to enjoy his company is a welcome relief, you only wish you could relinquish him of any of his own troubles and doubts.  And then, you feel it, a drop of cold rain hitting your neck. The hammock moves again as he adjusts, the back of his fingers running across the damp spot. Another finds your cheek and he wipes that away too, your skin shivering in response.

But when a speck lands your mouth he stops. You wait, a second, then two. Your anticipation grows with face heating up and your chest tightening as you continue to crave his touch. You want him to wipe it away, to touch you, to act on whatever desires he might be keeping. You part your lips with the desperate hope that he will take the hint. Rejoicing when the warm pad of his thumb spreads the drop across the delicate skin.

He comes down on to you, his mouth catching any and all remains of the droplet as he encases your lips. Jungkook places a hand on your neck while the other grabs the ropes of the hammock, his legs straddle your hips. The scattered rain turns to a downpour as he remains fixed to your mouth, even his form isn’t enough to shield you from the current washing down from the sky.

As your hands reach up to his own damp and curling locks entwining your fingers in the strands he moans and nips. But as quickly as it started, so too does it end. When Jungkook snaps up as though jolted from a dream. His ears point back as an apology flows from him. “I-I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Jungkook,” you call out to him but he ignores you as he tries to detangle himself. When one foot hits the ground. You grab his waist and try again. “Jungkook, you don’t have to be sorry.” But instead of stopping he merely pulls you off and along with him, sending you both to the muddy ground, but this time with you on top of him.

“Are you okay?” He asks the loud pouring of the rain forcing him to raise the volume of his voice.

You chuckle at his concern considering he’s the one flat on his back. “I think I should be asking you that question instead.” You pause as he mirrors your grin. “Why did you stop? Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” He looks up at you, his brow furrowing. “You did nothing wrong. It was me. I was the one acting on my instincts. I shouldn’t have done that when I know how much you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you...” You explain, trying your best not to be drowned out by the water cascading down. “The things you did might have annoyed me, but I get it now. I’m just sorry it took me so long to notice.”

“Notice what?”

“How fucked up your situation is. For not realizing how alone you must have been. How caged you must have felt. I’ve been so focused on my own little world that I didn’t realize what was happening or why you were acting the way you were. I like you, a lot, but I was too wrapped up in my frustration to say how I felt...”

“It’s not your fault.”

You shake your head. “I am not innocent in this. I should have been paying more attention.”

“Then pay attention to me now.” He begs with his round eyes shining up at you.  

“But in what way? As a neighbour, as a friend, or maybe something more?" Your voice cracks in desperation, trying to find his needs while also hoping they are the same as yours. “Is that why you were always teasing me the way you did? You wanted something more?”

“You really want to know?” Jungkook’s tone is low as it grips on to his every word. “I did it because it was the only thing that could distract me from my incessant need for you. Seeing your reactions and having your attention kept me in check. I’m very different from you and I’m aware it could cause a problem. I wasn’t sure if you could ever fully want me because of that.” He reaches to rub around the base of his ears. “But every day that I looked over I wanted to hold you, to claim you, to take you right here on this very spot. So often I dreamed of jumping the fence and coming for you instead of...”

You smile down at him, noting his near admission. “Instead of?”

“Instead of watching from a distance.” He smirks, catching and narrowly fixing his statement. Pleading guilty only to his longing for you.

“Then do it.” You demand of him.

He groans from his position beneath you. “Don’t tease me like that.”

“I’m not. You weren’t the only one peeking through the fence Jungkook.” Reaching up to your collar you tug off your shirt. He follows your lead with his own to reveal his sculpted chest he’s taunted you with so many times. “I don’t care if we’re different from each other. I don’t care if it causes a problem.” You shift back on his body traveling from your seat near his stomach down to his hips, his clothed dick firm and pressing against you. A moan escapes his lips, confirming that you’ve made your point. “There’s no one else nearby, so if you want me so much that you’re willing to fuck me out here, in the rain and mud-”  

His hands come to grip your waist, and in one swift motion, he lifts you off, maneuvering out from underneath, to fall into place behind you. From there he pushes you down to your hands and knees, his body bent over yours. “You have no idea how much I want to.” He whispers with a kiss to your bare shoulder damp from the rain that continues to pour.

He takes off your bra before his face moves down your back, nose trailing against your skin and pausing at your shorts. Unfastening the button he pulls them down, freeing you of your underwear too before they are both cast aside. “I want to smell you, and taste you.” Jungkook takes in a deep breath, wrapping an arm around your legs, and barring your thighs. He buries his face between your legs, his tongue reaching out to deliver a long lick to your folds pausing after every lap.

Your palms dig into the ground, the cool mud coming to the surface to meet them. You buck against his tongue but the forearm holding you remains firm, sending your squirming downward to bury your elbows in the soggy grass too.

Jungkook chuckles as you inadvertently give him a better angle. From behind you can hear the zipper of his own shorts. Rubbing the head of his cock against your damp folds, he covers it with the slick of your slit, and with a long groan he eases it inside. He’s slow at first, letting you savor the girth and warmth of him. So you start to edge back and forward on his cock. Taking the time to enjoy every inch, along with the sounds that leave him. But when he returns to take control, the first thrust is so powerful, his thighs hit your ass with a loud clap, and every jolt of his hips after, drives you further down each time.

A stuttering groan escapes him as he fills you. Thinking he’s finished you lean forwards and until his cock pulls out, but in response he grabs your waist. Turning you over, back to the ground on top of the discarded clothes and facing him.

He lowers himself pressing his chest against yours. His fingers reach to grab your chin and take a kiss. His cock, despite having come only moments before, is hard once more and poised to enter once again.

“How are you-” You manage to squeeze a few words in the gaps between his kisses as he draws breath. “Ready for more-” Another pass of his tongue. “Already?”

“You have my hybrid traits to thank for that.” He moves to nibble on the side of your throat. “I have more to give you, if you want it.”

You nod unable to emit any noise other than a gasp as his mouth finds a sensitive spot on your neck. His dick forges in again, your slick and his cum dripping out of you as he fills you with himself instead.

You’ve avoided touching him with your own hands as they are patched with mud, but as his thrusts grow more powerful than even before, you’re forced to grab on his arms and chest. Leaving behind streaks of dirt which display the path of your grip. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind though, in fact looks rather encouraged by your touch, and the marks you leave him.

“What a dirty woman you are, and getting me all messy too.” He scoffs while admiring your handiwork. “Can I return the favour?”

“Help me come first and you can do whatever the fuck you want.” You gasp on the brink of your climax.  

His ears perk up and a grin streaks across his face. “Close are you?” He grabs your calf and wraps your leg around his back, the other follows suit and his hand comes to rest on your lower back pushing you up and into him effectively grinding your mount against him.

You gasp and flinch with the sudden pressure, but he holds you firm as your back arches to meet him.

His hips beat on at a rapid pace, a small whimper escapes him as you reach the peak, tipping you over the edge. The chilling rain can in no way can douse the searing heat that spreads through you. You're still gasping when his jaw clamps down hard, his teeth poised upon your skin. The first pulse of his cock comes inside, but on the second he pulls out to splatter your chest and stomach with the rest. His hand comes to clutch his shaft, spilling more out and on to you with each stroke.

After every remaining drop has been cast on you he smiles, dragging his fingers across the rain drenched mess of mud and cum on your skin. “Never thought I’d ever see you so thoroughly soiled.”

You giggle at his remarks through your deep breaths. “And now that you do, what do you think?”

“I think it suits you, the dirt, the rain, and me...” He lowers himself down onto you, with his head now resting upon your shoulder. “It’s too bad though. Now I just want more, but we’re both far too filthy to carry on like this.”  

You turn to whisper at the base of his ear. “Who says we can’t continue in the shower...”

...

You wake early the next morning with the sun spilling into the room, lighting up your bed, and the hybrid sleeping next to you. His ears and nose twitching as he continues to rest. Slipping out from the covers, and into a set of clean gardening clothes, you exit the room with as little sound as possible.

On the tile floor of your hall, muddy footprints trail from your backdoor to your bathroom.  A smile pulls at your lips as you recall the events which brought them there. Jungkook had been so excited to keep going he picked you up and rushed you inside.

The feeling from the warm water and hands in contrast to the cool rain was enough to bring back the waves of pleasure. He was so thorough in washing you down, you might have to ask him to join you for another this morning and repay the favour.  

Outside in the garden you find all your harvest from the day before present and untouched. You’re pleased by this new development, but it’s not the fact that your crops are intact which makes you happy, it’s the comfort in knowing that Jungkook didn’t feel the need to take them.

A few minutes later the hybrid in question comes up behind you wrapping his arms around your waist pulling with him a blanket he took from the bed to cover the both of you. “Morning.” He mumbles, as his nose finds the crook of your neck where he exhales with a deep and relaxed sigh.

“Morning.” You respond, enjoying the tickle of his breath before you turn around to better see him. “It seems the thief didn’t strike last night. ”

“I guess they found a new garden to plunder and devour?” Jungkook suggests, giving you a sly grin, before he opens his mouth again. It’s easy to see that he’s getting ready to confess, his face shifts to a stern expression as he looks down at the ground, the guilt weighing heavily upon his brow. Placing your index to his lips you stop him. No longer needing to hear those words of admission, you offer a new proposal instead.

“Maybe, but that was just one night. The thief might still come back. So if it’s alright with you I would like you to stay here. Until we can be sure they won’t return.”

Jungkook lets out a satisfied chuckle, pushing aside your finger and pulling you tighter into his warm embrace. “You’re right, I suppose it would be safer if I stayed.” His lips plant a kiss on the top of your head where he then rests his chin. “A temptation as enticing as this, shouldn’t be left alone and unattended.”

...

[rviden]

hello!! may I request for hcs for when you get into an argument with the genshin boys (you can choose who!!) and the guys end up saying something hurtful, and your reaction is like "well, if that's what you think, then maybe we shouldn't be together." and walks away (tryna hide a tear,,)?? I'm sorry if this is too specific aah I'm just in the mood for angst ( •́ ‿ ,•̀ ) I really like your characterization!! <333

— 🧧 THEIR S/O BREAKS UP WITH THEM AFTER A RUDE COMMENT THEY MADE

includes — kazuha, tohma, diluc

warnings — angst, pre tohma release

pronouns — they/them

note — in honour of the 2.0 announcement trailer, i included the newest boy to my writing list (tohma by beloved) - i’ve also added baal (or raiden), ayaka, and yoimiya!

KAZUHA

kazuha wasn’t usually confrontational off of the battle field — opting for more serene and peaceful things while resting and spending his time with you

but sometimes when emotions boil over, we say things that we don’t mean, nor wish to say at all — it’s in the heat of the moment type of thing, which is exactly what was happening to kazuha in the present time

“you don’t get it- you never will,” kazuha paced away from you, wanting to put an end to the conversation station as soon as he could.

“and what’s that supposed to mean?” you took strides to catch up with the upset male, desperate to understand his reasoning. “why don’t you face me, and tell me why the hell you won’t let me help-“ the moment your hand made contact with his arm, he turned in fury — something you had never seen him in ever.

“you’re too clumsy, too reckless, and simply not able to withstand that type of battles that would occur!” kazuha’s face was mere inches from your own. “you’re just not enough.”

you weren’t enough.

he was talking about physical ability, but... why did it feel as if he was talking about everything — the way you dressed, the way you acted, the person you are.

he didn’t think you were enough.

“... if- if you think so lowly of me, then i don’t think this is going to work,” your feet slowly brought your body away from the now shocked and calming male, trying to put as much distance as you could between the two of you.

“y/n-“ he reached out for your arm, only to pull back as if he had been shocked as you flinched away from it. “i didn’t mean it like that.”

“well that’s what it sounded like kazuha.”

you never called him kazuha — it was always kaz, or some other nickname — but never kazuha.

“i’ll leave you to your business, and i’ll board with beidou in the morning,” the distance grew greater, and hearts cracked piece by piece. “i hope you find someone who’s enough on your travels.”

kazuha’s heart left with you — the emptiness in his chest product of his own doings, his own words.

it seemed that he was the one not enough for you.

TOHMA

tohma didn’t like to fight, argue, or even cause any sort of pain to you — and in the past if he ever did, it was not by his choice, or it was a complete accident

yet here he found himself, spouting words he didn’t mean, watching the look of anger on your face crumble into hurt and betrayal

tohma was tired — beyond even — with the job that he possessed, and the dedication to match, nights were often spent resting and resetting for the next.

“y/n i really don’t have time for this right now, you know this,” his fingers pinched the bridge of his nose, desperately trying to rid himself of both the anger and headache that clawed at his mind.

“i think you have plenty of time right now — all i’m asking is for you to consider my idea,” you stepped closer to the blonde, brings your hands up to run through his hair in order to help calm him down. “i just want to see you a little more often, even if it’s only a day a week — just more then i see you now-“

his head was yanked away from your hands, and his eyes burned into you like the vision that hung on his hip. “for the last time! i have my duties with the kamisato clan, and they need my dedication and focus — i don’t have time to waste.”

his words didn’t fully click in his head, until he saw your eyes widen in both shock and hurt — and all he could do was watch as your body slowly backed away and shrank into itself, becoming smaller and smaller by the second.

you tried to appear bigger in mere moments after the metaphorical slap to the face — your chin being held high, eyes narrowed, and drawn in tight.

“don’t bother coming home tomorrow, or the nextday, or even the next,” he could see the hurt as you tried to keep your composer. “wouldn’t want you wasting time, now would we?”

“y/n-“

“leave tohma — you have your duties, remember?”

it happened too fast for tohma to handle — one minute you were happily chatting, next the argument broke out, and the next, he had broken the one promise he had made to himself and you.

he had hurt you, one too many times.

DILUC

he was a calm and collected man, trying many other options before it truly came down to a fight — he poked and prodded most times during arguments, but never before had he pointed out things he knew would hurt

maybe that’s why he wasn’t only in shock as he watch the anger turn into sadness and thought, but also at the words that seemed to flow out of his mouth like a river

“dee, please take a break,” your hands worked on his shoulders — thumbs pushing on the knots and sore spots in the muscles, trying anything you could to get the red haired man to relax.

“y/n please — i’ll come to bed in a few more minutes, i just have to finish this-“ the quill was plucked out of his hands before you could finish — now dangling between your own fingertips.

“you said that the yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that — i know you dee — like that back of my hand,” you waved the back of your hand in an example, the smile on your face doing nothing to ease the furrow in his brow.

he was committed to finishing paperwork and documents — and if that meant forgoing a few nights of actual rest and calmness, then so be it.

but you were making that difficult.

“give me that,” diluc harshly grabbed the quill from your hand, not caring or registering if he had hurt you in the process.

he turned back to his work as soon as it was in his hand, but the moment didn’t last long.

“diluc-“ your hand reached down for the quill again, but were quickly shoved back as he stood from the chair.

“would you just give me some space!” his eyes and cheeks gleamed red, similar to the colour of his hair. “i can’t get any actual work done when your clinging to me like an animal in heat!” in the moment, diluc didn’t care if he had hurt you, and that was one of his many mistakes in that moment.

the quietness was tense and uncomfortable — dilucs heavy breathing, and the sound of soft fidgeting being the only things that could be heard.

“i’ll leave you be then,” you turned in that moment, the tears running freshly down your face the second your back was to the man.

diluc didn’t panic at first.

he had hurt you, yes — but you would let him cool down, calm, and finish was he was doing. that was all.

but the empty room that was once occupied by two and the quick feet that turned and walked in the other direction every time he was near — was enough to tell him the truth.

you left him to be on his own.

for good.

[swindle-comic]

How is Della handling this whole "My babies are growing up" thing? We all know that Della does not handle well that her family is not always together and the boys are entering their teens, a time when space is wanted. She already missed most of her children's lives, and now their growing up, I don't think she can handle her kids growing up so fast.

I’ve thought about this a few times before and it never stops being very sad because YEAH. There’s no solution here for Della, no way to spin this so it’s any less sad, no way to slow things down, no way to make this a perfect happily ever after. The fact of the matter is that Della missed 90% of her sons’ childhood and even when she returns, time doesn’t just freeze and let her cherish what she has just because she’s earned it. It feels like they’ve been growing bigger and bigger every day since she laid eyes on them and it’s always been a hard thing for her to shoulder. And what else can she do but move forward alongside them?

But a fun thing about Della is she is very bad at confronting her own deeper feelings. So, in the swindle timeline, she is either squishing all those emotions down and pretending she’s totally cool with time passing by so fast and her babies becoming adults before her very eyes, OR she has started therapy and is unloading all of it in a healthy way. I sincerely hope it’s the latter. I am not equipped to tackle all of Della’s unresolved moon trauma and family angst in this comic so I at least like to believe that in universe, somebody qualified is helping her work through it.

And it’s not only the Growing Up thing, it’s also the Highschool thing. I imagine that the triplets current school arrangement was hugely Donald’s decision, who was not only worried about their education and future colleges but their socialization skills with their own age group and all that. It’s debatable whether it was the right decision but it’s what Donald wanted for his boys and he stood firm in that. It’s not like its a permanent thing either but for the moment the kids can only participate in adventures on the weekends, thus further limiting the time Della gets to spend with them.

I can not see Della being on board with the school thing at all. And she and Donald probably had a huge argument over it. (In private of course. The triplets never heard a word of it.) but ultimately Della relented. While Della has since made massive improvements in the mom department, she can admit that sometimes she needs a second opinion from Donald, who is their other parent in his own right. She doesn’t like this arrangement but if it is really what Donald thinks is best for the triplets then she can tolerate it. And again, it’s a choice. After a few months, if any of the kids decide this is not the life they want, they don’t have to attend anymore. This settles Della’s nerves. She’s hoping they’ll get bored and drop out eventually but she doesn’t say it.

But another fun thing about Della is that she is an extremely determined person who makes the most of her situation. When she was on the moon, she missed her babies’ hatching, their first steps, their first words, their first birthday. Her kids are teenagers now. She has to accept that. And she’s not going to miss any more milestones in their lives because she’s too busy angsting about all the time she’s lost. She refuses. There’s still plenty of firsts left to come! When Louie’s whiskers first started growing in, Della took so much pictures, Louie was THIS close to shaving them off just so she’d stop.

She recently renewed her driving license (she hasn’t driven since her early twenties) just so she can drive the kids to school every morning and spend some extra time with them. She’s an extraordinarily embarrassing mom but the triplets have a lot more patience with her than most kids would. They’re huge mommy’s boys like that. They even let her kiss them goodbye every morning in front of the other kids, as they’re all too aware themselves that a mom is not something to take for granted. Not if you’ve spent most of your life without one.

[i-dreamed-i-had-a-son]

Okayyyy now that I've slept on that episode I am ready to do some good old traumamongering so let's look at how Loki's responses to his environment and those around him are informed by his trauma--and how Mobius/the TVA are using his trauma to manipulate him.

One of the ways Loki deals with unpleasant or stressful situations is to verbally maneuver or posture, to try to assert control (if he feels he can reasonably do so). We see him do this with Tony in Avengers, who during their confrontation--at least for the moment--poses no active threat; instead of attacking him, Loki talks. In Thor, Loki tries several times to defuse situations with his words, which generally goes poorly for him. But when it comes to handling stress, it's essentially all he knows how to do--Mobius is absolutely right to point out that Loki "loves to talk," but usually his silver tongue is borne out of necessity.

In this case, starting from the moment of his escape, we see a lot of talking from Loki that is not strictly necessary. When he lands in Mongolia, the very first thing he does is make a speech to the bystanders--literally and figuratively trying to get his bearings. He's not aggressive at all (which would confuse the Avengers were they to see him, but wow, it's almost like Thanos/the Mind Stone was influencing him!) and seems quite at a loss as to what to do when the people he's addressing don't understand him. When the TVA agents try to arrest him, he tries to ask them what's going on, and gives plenty of warning (and posturing!) before attempting to physically assert himself. In the TVA itself, this continues. Loki complains, tries to intimidate, questions, and even talks to machines with no other real witnesses (twice). He's pulling out all the stops, so to speak, to try to verbally establish control of his situation. He's trying to get his bearings, to assert his autonomy and individuality--but no one is listening to him.

When that doesn't work, and only when a lot of that doesn't work, does Loki attempt physical control of his environment. He first tries his magic (something familiar to him) and is shocked when that also doesn't work. The TVA is already a foreign environment, but because none of Loki's usual and comfortable methods of surviving are working, it becomes more foreign, and more stressful. That's why he escalates to actively resisting the guards (but note he doesn't try too hard once someone (Mobius) starts talking). Physical resistance has never been Loki's forte, so he plays to his strengths while he can, but when that fails and he gets more desperate, he has to get creative.

But when Loki is stressed enough that he starts to physically fight back, the illusion of confidence starts to break down. We see this continue really clearly in the interrogation room scene. The subject matter actively makes Loki uncomfortable. His attempts to deflect or lie aren't effective, and his words once again fail to control his situation or even shield him from what he'd like to avoid. Unable to escape the direct questions, Loki again becomes physically restless and uncomfortable, standing and pacing while growing more obviously agitated. The questions Mobius is asking are ones Loki does not want to think about, and that's because they ultimately hit on his most vulnerable points.

The question of "What would you do if you could go back?" while seeming rather innocuous, is really a well-disguised gateway to all of Loki's trauma and insecurity. Why does he feel he should rule Midgard? Well, Loki attempts to respond, that's what he deserves, it's what he was born for--but it wasn't, really, and he knows it. Firstly, when it comes to his royal birthright, Loki has always fallen back on that as a grounding mechanism. It's what he asserts to claim his identity and feel powerful and in control. He does this with being a god, too, and we see him do this several times just within the TVA. But ultimately, it's just words--the real power is with those who can make what they want to happen actually happen, and in Loki's life, that has never been him. (Even talking about his birthright, and the concept of ruling, brings up the traumatic events of Thor 1; and the fact that he was looking to rule Midgard, not Asgard, means that he would still be playing second-fiddle to Thor. Midgard wasn't his birthright--Asgardians never ruled directly on Earth. It was just the best he could get.) And secondly, Loki's attack of Earth was directly caused and influenced by Thanos. That is the main source of trauma that Loki is desperately trying to avoid, and the questions he's being asked don't allow him to do so. He can't weasel out of it; Mobius is too persistent, and he knows all the worst buttons to push. In fact, he's systematically targeting Loki's weaknesses.

Look at the questions and statements he uses: "For someone born to rule, you sure lose an awful lot." Your birthright is false and you know it. "You weren't born to be a king. You were born to help others become the best versions of themselves." He juxtaposes this with footage of the Avengers, Thor among them: your identity only matters so far as you can enable others, especially your brother. Loki starts avoiding looking at the footage, becoming less brazen with his attitude and responses, so Mobius asks, "What is it that you're running from?" It's at about this point that Loki stands up, trying to physically distance himself from both Mobius and the question. This interaction reveals much about what Mobius is intending by this conversation. He's not trying to learn about Loki, necessarily. He already knows Loki is running from something, and seems to know what it is, which wouldn't be immediately clear to someone uninformed. What he's really trying to do is make Loki vulnerable, and make him admit it.

Mobius uses Loki's role in his mother's death to push him over the edge. Immediately, Loki turns on Mobius, furiously insisting that the whole thing is an illusion--more desperate verbal posturing, and Mobius treats it as such--and then Loki snaps, first throwing a chair at the painful image of his mother, which promptly reforms (it's inescapable), and then trying to attack Mobius. The fact that Loki is lashing out physically means he is desperate, but even his last resort isn't effective. He simply can't protect himself. He's powerless. That's triggering in and of itself.

But it's the footage that's the final blow. After escaping his restraints, he returns to the very room he left, and looks at his life. And he cries. He's so vulnerable and hurting and scared that in his first moment alone, he cries. And just as he thought he'd have a little bit of comfort, even laughing to see his improving relationship with Thor, he watches himself die a humiliating, pitiful, ignoble death, and hears himself say, "You will never be a god"--and that old boast means nothing because Thanos snaps his neck anyway. That moment, seeing the thing he was running from catch up to him and kill him, is his final emotional breaking point. When Loki laughs and bitterly says, "Glorious purpose," that's the end of the posturing. He's admitting Mobius was right: he didn't have a glorious purpose, or a glorious anything. Which is why when Mobius comes back, Loki tells the truth, unprompted. He actually calls himself weak. He admits he's been putting up an illusion in a feeble attempt to get control of his situation.

This level of vulnerability from Loki is unheard of, and speaks to how utterly he's been worn down by the very intentional psychological manipulation of Mobius and the TVA. When Loki entered, he was actively opposing them. Now, after having been massively triggered and emotionally exhausted, he's suggestible, and by playing a friendly angle, Mobius can manipulate Loki into working with them--and, literally, against himself.

Whether he has good intentions or no, that makes Mobius a truly formidable player, and one Loki--and we--shouldn't be too hastily comfortable with. He is clearly a master manipulator, and has no qualms using Loki's trauma to break him.

But what should be most concerning of all is that he succeeds. Because the only other person to have ever done that?

Is Thanos.