#i'm not particularly happy with how this came out but it's out of my system at least

[inhuman-obey-me]

Heavy is the Crown

Word count: 930 Description: Being the leader of an entire realm is no easy feat, especially when you're not like rulers past. Inspired/based on Lesson 9 in Obey Me: Nightbringer, so beware of spoilers. Can also be found on AO3 here. 

“When it comes down to it, you don’t accept us either, do you Diavolo?” 

The Demon Prince isn’t sure what stings more – the alcohol making its way down his throat, or Lucifer’s sharp words from their earlier confrontation. 

He sits alone now, the chill of the night settling in his bones despite the flames of the fireplace mere steps away. He watches how the flickering light passes through his glass, turning his current poison of choice to a fiery amber. A slight tilt of his hand and the slightly viscous fluid reminds him of honey, but the only taste left on his tongue is bitter. 

Diavolo had become used to swallowing his feelings, his role as future ruler of the realm always priority. It did not matter how suffocating it could all be – the constant gaze and judgment of the House of Lords, the responsibilities of ruling an entire realm suddenly left to him as his father disappeared into the shadows, the strain of keeping the peace as his realm was shaken with instability – he had to be ever noble, ever present, ever ready-to-lead. 

But it was in these moments, these quiet nights where he requested to be left alone, where he could allow himself to feel it all. The stress, the anger, the fear, the despair, the hurt. It was just all too much sometimes, too hard and too stifling and too complicated and oh, it was just too much! He has been raised for this all his life and yet still he feels he is finding his footing, trying to make sure what he does appeases those he disdains and those he favors, while also trying to always remain true to himself. 

So, what was he to do? A strange human had suddenly appeared before him, with even stranger events occurring soon after. The former angels he had been trying so earnestly to support were finding themselves in unexplainable predicaments, one of them having gone on a rampage and destroying his home. The tension in the Devildom was at an all-time high, and the nobles were watching his every move, just waiting for him to slip-up so they could decry him as unfit to rule and nothing but a child with foolish dreams. 

He downs his glass and pours another.

There had been so much he had wanted to say to Lucifer in that moment, to make him see that no, of course he didn’t feel that way! He wouldn’t have done all he had up until that point if he had seen them somehow as lesser, as not belonging. But he knew that had he not spoken carefully, even those words would have been twisted and misunderstood – a struggle he was seemingly dealing with more and more these days. 

Diavolo slowly rises from his seat, glass still in hand, and begins to quietly wander through the hallways of the castle. He passes by numerous paintings – some portraits, some tales of Devildom history. Even these walls had eyes – always watching, always waiting.

He’s not sure if he meant to come here, or if his feet had just decided a destination on their own, but he finds himself in the Eastern Hall, looking upon one particular grand portrait that dwarfed the entire room with its emanating presence. 

“What am I supposed to do, mother?” 

Diavolo winces as he hears his own voice, meek and feeble. He rests his forehead against the gilded frame with a sigh, his gaze towards the worn stone floor. What was he doing, asking a portrait of the mother he never got to know? He might as well go asking his father, who retreated to the depths of the Devildom into an even deeper slumber. The answer would be the same.

Hah, he thought, have I always felt this alone?

He knew, despite all of his tumultuous thoughts and emotions bubbling deep in his chest, that he would have to once more go out with a charismatic smile and a steady hand. There was no one to make these decisions but himself, no one who could tell him what to do, what to say to make it all better and right. He had to lead, to show all those nobles who underestimated him that he was worthy of his position, even if they disagreed with his ambitions. 

“Young Master?” 

With a start and a flourish of his wings, Diavolo turns around to see Barbatos, looking upon the prince with a hint of concern in his dark eyes. 

“...You’re bleeding.” 

He’s confused at first, but soon he feels the ichor dripping down his hand – ah, he had cracked the glass in his grip. When did that happen? 

“Oh – I’m sorry, Barbatos. I didn’t mean for you to see me in such a state.” Diavolo clears his throat, murmuring a spell to heal the cut. “I was just lost in my thoughts.”

“You don’t need to apologize, My Lord.” Barbatos gives him a kind smile, taking a step back and motioning back down the hallway from where he had appeared. “Why don’t you come back and have a cup of tea with me? I even prepared some of your favorite, hellfire mushroom cigar cookies.”

“...Thank you, Barbatos.” For the first time that night, Diavolo felt a smile curve his lips, a weight slightly lifted off his head and heart. “That sounds lovely.”

That’s right, he wasn’t alone – he had, at the very least, a friend here beside him who chose to stand by him and his ideals. 

He wondered if he could perhaps soon find more. 

[aroaceleovaldez]

random question but i came across a post of yours where you talked about how mark oshiro sort of erased an aspect of nico's ADHD by making a joke about how he only liked mythomagic cards because he's gay and there are hot guys on the cards, and then TSATS also seemed to really downplay the themes of neurodivergence in the series. and it made me wonder if you have any thoughts on how the show has portrayed the demigods' ADHD and dyslexia so far? i've seen some people say that the show also downplayed it a lot, and i'm inclined to agree... which feels really weird considering that rick's own son's neurodivergence was specifically a major inspiration for him writing the series. but if i recall correctly a lot of scenes showcasing that in the first book were taken out of the show.

Oh absolutely, a lot of scenes and general discussion about adhd/dyslexia were removed in the show (and some of the disability-coding in general - i appreciate the change they made with making Chiron disabled based on his mythos rather than just using a wheelchair as a disguise, but i wish they had kept Grover's crutches in a similar manner honestly) - I've made a couple of posts discussing it: here, here, and this reblog is relevant to my opinions about the matter. There's probably some other stuff in my pjo tv crit tag.

I think the main sentiment i have regarding it - which i've seen a couple of other people mention as well - is how much the show ignores or outright removes and downplays Percy's personal struggles with his disabilities to instead emphasize Sally's experiences instead, particularly in manners of her taking out her stress on Percy - which alongside being completely antithetical to Sally's role in the books, is pretty ableist and why I continually compare show!Sally to Autism Speaks Parents. Autism Speaks tends to make an emphasis on the struggles of the parents of autistic children rather than treating autistic individuals like a person experiencing their own struggles. One of the major points of Sally's character (and later Paul) in the books is that she's an incredibly accommodating parent and works hard to make sure Percy is supported when he's struggling with his disabilities, because he's not been able to find that accommodation elsewhere. That's part of why Sally is such a great mom in particular, and is intentionally supposed to directly contrast Annabeth's home life struggles with her parents having difficulty navigating how to provide that same level of accommodation to help support her (and how Annabeth finds that accommodation at CHB instead, because that's the metaphor that CHB is supposed to represent - an appropriately accommodating system they can rely on, and then exploring how that's still a flawed system and looking at how disabled kids/demigods fall through the cracks and how to change the system to better support them).

The show also almost completely ignores Percy's ADHD/dyslexia experiences in general after the first episode. I was honestly really happy with, in the first episode, how clearly Percy's poor experiences in the American education system, particularly relating to his neurodivergence, have informed his reaction to situations such as people trying to tell him he's a demigod in coded language. It was essentially the perfect update to something i've discussed in the past here, about how the original "all demigods have adhd/dyslexia because it's secretly SUPERPOWERS" thing was presented as the basis for the series and why that teaching/parenting style fell out of favor. We see Percy in e1 acknowledge how dismissive of his struggles it is to constantly just be told he's "special" - and we even get explicit acknowledgement of how that description is used aggressively and for ostracization (from Nancy), which is extremely true to the experiences of kids who grew up with that teaching/parenting structure. But then we get to episode 2 and... all the acknowledgement of ADHD/dyslexia/etc is gone. We get at most a one-off acknowledgement from Luke that demigods are all neurodivergent and that's it. Pretty much nothing else for the entire rest of the season, save for flashback scenes that only emphasize Sally's experiences, not acknowledge Percy's. No further acknowledgement of Percy's dyslexia, or Annabeth's, or anything about their ADHD, or even Percy's completely removed PTSD (which we know for sure because of both writer commentary [see: that second post i linked about the LA Times article] and Percy's total lack of reaction to Mr. D). Nothing.

It was extremely disheartening to say the least, having such a strong start and it evaporating completely, and I fully agree with you.

[residenthughes]

once bitten, twice shy

pairing: leon kennedy x gender neutral reader

word count: 3.8k (yippee!)

tags/warnings: college/university au, fluff, mentions of vomit/sick and alcohol

summary: house parties can be a strange place. they can be even stranger when you're about to throw up and have to argue to use the bathroom with a certain blue eyed, blonde haired boy too.

notes: my baby! so glad to have finished this! <3 i started writing this pretty much after my last fic (which received so much love, thank you so so much 💗) and finally came together after i went out myself, hehe. have deadlines/exams coming up soon so i'm not particularly sure how much i'll be posting on here until mid june, so mayhaps consider this a gift for not posting then? 🥹 haha, love u all and hope u enjoy!

You enjoyed a good night out once in a while. Your friends and yourself dressed to the nines as you dance the night away with liquor tainted lips and all the freedom in the palm of your hand. It was a great escape from the pressures of endless coursework and constant group meetings. You enjoyed a good house party, too. However, you hadn’t had much luck with those ones. Despite the smaller crowd it drew, the handful of new faces had you anxiously gulping away at your alcohol, ultimately leading to cringe-worthy videos your friends would show you the next day. Based on this, you should have known better - should have politely declined when your friends suggested attending her classmates’ house party and spent the night maybe regretting it. In spite of the myriad of reasons, the past week had been dreadful beyond words and it was an opportunity to wear your latest going out outfit. It was near impossible to say no.

So, here you are. Having the time of your life with friends, dancing under blue flickering lights and letting the night take you away. Well - that’s what you were doing. What you are doing now is desperately trying to find the toilet - your stomach was already uneasy due to the nerves of meeting new people at the party, so you’re sure the sugary drinks added to the alcohol in your system didn’t help either. You felt queasy and an urgent need to relieve yourself, still to no avail. The downstairs bathroom was occupied, so with the sickly feeling travelling up your system, you barge through the mob of people littering the hallways, hand over your mouth in a futile attempt to keep whatever was coming up down.

At the end of the upstairs hallway, your friend’s classmate explained there was an additional bathroom. You’ve never been more relieved to see anything more in your life. Without knowing it, you’re making a mad dash for it, bumping shoulders and mumbling a thousand sorrys. You’re a sight for sore eyes, you know you are, but with the pressing urge to not have witnesses to your untimely projectile vomiting, you really couldn’t give a damn.

You’re so happy to have found the bathroom, even if it may have also been occupied that your eyes miss another figure aiming for the room too. It’s only when your hand reaches for the doorknob that it’s shielded by another hand. Large and comforting. Your eyes search for the source.

Amidst the darkness that permeates the hallways, the blue mood lights provide glimpses into the mystery of the shadowy figure with gentle hands. His face, ivory in colour, is all slopes, features sharp and striking. His cerulean blue eyes framed by the length of his long eyelashes and dirty blond hair makes your heart stutter messily in your chest. For a split second, there is nothing you can do but stare in awe, the tall tales of infatuation spinning your head dizzy.

“Shit, did you wanna go first?” His voice sounds like a siren, sweet and melodic all at once.

With the countless thoughts zooming through your brain, you’re certain any words that would filter through your lips would be nothing except incoherent mumbles. You settle for a nod.

“Uh, hate to break it to you sweetheart, but I needa go too.” His hand is still over yours and if not for the terrible rumble in your stomach, it would have been swept off your feet, along with the sickeningly sweet pet name he gives you.

“Maybe try downstairs? I’m sure it’ll be free soon.” This is the first time you’ve spoken during your brief conversation. The quick raise of the handsome stranger’s eyebrows encourages sheepishness to gnaw at your skin, the pink hues of your cheeks deepening.

“Ocupado, ‘m afraid.” he grins with a sliver of teeth, facial expression moulding into the awkwardness that starts to circle itself around the two of you.

Your hand turns the doorknob faintly and you catch the desperation that flashes in his eyes at your actions. If you weren’t about to soil your new top with stomach acid, you would’ve let him go first, bashful as ever as you hoped you would find him later on in the night whilst hoping he’d spare you another glance. Nevertheless, that was not the case.

“I’m sorry but,” you gulp, trying to keep whatever was coming up back down. “I really, really, really need to go, so…”

He’s stubborn. Stubborn as an ass apparently, because his hand still remains on yours. “Of course, but equally, I need to go as well. Surely, there’s like a sink or something I can go in. I’m really desperate.”

You can’t help as you wrinkle your nose, your patience wearing thin. You literally have to be sick. Why is this not being addressed? “Can’t you just pee outside? Guys do that all the time, don’t they?”

“I’m not an animal, you know.” the handsome stranger argues, and your eye twitches.

How did you end up arguing with a good-looking guy outside a bathroom at a house party?

“I’m not being funny, but if you don’t move, I will throw up all over you.”

“I’ve been meaning to go for an hour now. Can’t we make some sort of compromise?”

You were at your wits end. “As if, you fucking masochist! I’m going first!”

And you do, barging into the blindingly white room with all your might and making a beeline for the toilet. A heavy sigh sounds behind you as you heave into the toilet, bracing yourself for the ugly sight that’ll swim before you.

You hear a zip being undone and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “Surely, you’re not…?”

“I told you I needed to go.” the voice comes from the shower beside you. The world spins. House parties fucking suck.

You opt to fully exit your bitter discussion, focusing on ugly turns in your stomach. Your hair circles your face and you curse yourself for not having tied it up beforehand because obviously, it was going to–

It flows out of you. Swiftly and without much difficulty. You lunge forwards into the toilet bowl as the vomit empties out of you whilst the shower runs briefly, followed by the sink.

You just wanna go home.

“Hey,” the call for your attention is docile, the boy’s voice more sympathetic now. “You got a hair tie on ya?”

At this point, you’re on your knees, throwing up your early dinner in front of a boy you bad mouthed because you both wanted to use the bathroom at the same time. There’s no point in being shy now. You want all the help you can get.

You manage to shimmy the hair tie off your wrist and hand it towards his vague direction. For how unacquainted you two are, you move in great harmony as the boy grabs the hair tie and captures all your hair with ease whilst you busy yourself with other pressing issues.

When he’s finished, hair away from your face and in a low ponytail, the warmth of his hand settles against your back. The tears brimming in your eyes fall into the toilet bowl, body still before slow caresses have you melting into the palm of his hand.

“I…I know one of the guys that lives here,” he volunteers, tone unsure. “I’m sure he won’t mind you using one of his spare toothbrushes underneath the sink.”

You only manage back a groan, the icky feeling of humiliation creeping up on you as you continue to exhale into the toilet bowl.

“I’ll be back.”

And the man who peed in the shower leaves. Ok, that was rude of you, he did just help you when you were vomiting in spite of not knowing you. You should have more compassion for him, instead of lashing out at him out of embarrassment. When he gets back, you should thank him for all his help and hope to never see him again. You didn’t think you could live comfortably with yourself if you ever saw him again.

The faint thumps of typical party hits hammer beyond the bathroom, pouring in briefly when the man comes back into the room. By this point, your stomach has settled and you’ve flushed the toilet, yet your head still remains somewhat in the toilet because you couldn’t bear to come face-to-face with the guilt wrapped up in the form of a handsome, kind stranger.

“He said it’s cool, just open the new pack in the grey caddy.” You hear joints crack besides you before there’s a pat on your back. The comfort it brings is enough for you to swallow your pride. “Also, there’s some water next to you. Figured you wouldn’t want to go looking for it.”

Regardless of the ever growing shame that wants to drown you into a sad shell of yourself, your heart swells. The unprompted kindness offered from the stranger is refreshing, you wish you could tell him how grateful you are for him without your shame keeping your head in the toilet bowl.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe, wincing at the cringing sensations that course through your body. “Sorry for calling you a masochist earlier.”

He huffs out a bout of laughter and your heart feels lighter. “In all fairness, I was pretty crazy for holding it for that long, so I don’t blame you.”

You hated how you’d have to avoid this man after you two left this room. He was sweet, polite and made you laugh. Why did you have to meet under such ugly conditions?

“Thank you,” you exhale, feeling your heart bloom with the warmth he radiates. “Really.”

“No prob,” he lifts his hand off your back and suddenly, you’re cold again. “I’ll leave you to it. If you need me, I’ll be in the kitchen. If not, probably fucking it up on the dancefloor.”

You mumble another thank you after the laughter that leaves your lips, the blue-eyed stranger exiting and leaving you to clean yourself up as ponder on his kindness for a little longer than necessary.

-

You manage to sneak past the kitchen without bumping into the kind stranger. If you weren’t embarrassed before, the embarrassment catches up with you now. Outside, where the cool October wind blows, you’re perched on a step of the back porch, curled into yourself as you breathe in and breathe out. Things could have been a lot worse. You could have thrown up all yourself, delirious and none the wiser as nasty spirited individuals videoed the spectacle, not intervening even once. You could have been in a worse state in front of the stranger, vomit embedded in your hair as you wailed to call your friends or to go home. It could have been so much worse, yet here you are, rocking away as you will yourself not to cry.

You blame it on the emotional turmoil that’s plagued your week. Your academic and interpersonal affairs bore a burden like never before, pushing you beyond your means countless times this week and eventually, as you self soothe in solitude, you succumb to their will. Your friends are worried sick, searching every inch of the unfathomably large house to find you. You shoot them a text, notifying them of your safety and the privacy you seek. With dozens of texts that express reassurance, you let out a sigh before the music playing inside is too good for you to ignore.

Call it foolish, but it’s the nostalgic sounds of 00s’ dance that help you pick up the pieces. Assist in the carefree attitude you adopt that leads you right back inside, finding your friends and changing the course of the night.

If only you knew your carefree attitude would have you right where you once were. Face to face with the handsome stranger, the ends of an empty beer bottle pointed towards you two as bystanders ooh and ahh.

“Get in there, Leon!” a friend - you assume - hollers, slurring his words as he lazily drapes against Leon’s rigid frame.

You two exchange a look, eyes seeking any kind of communication that would hint at what the future held.

Your hand is given a squeeze and suddenly one of your friend’s whispers into your ear. “He’s cute, go for it.”

You crimson. At her words and at the fact that your next encounter with Leon has come so soon. Relentless is the sensation of dread and cringe as it sinks into your bones and buries you into the ground. All eyes are on you and you want nothing more but cringe? Disappear? Run away? There’s so much going on in your head right now.

A hand is outreached. It’s as if a lifeforce beyond yours comes down to save you, extending their hand to sail you away to safety. Alias, it is nothing but a figment of your imagination as you peer up, eyes sparkling as Leon’s tall figure towers over yours. For a second, you can’t read his facial expression, can’t comprehend the logistics of your predicament. However, when the edge of his lips curl upwards, pleasant and mellow in nature, there’s a sense of relief that starts to wash over you.

“Ready if you are.”

He has a way with words. He must have. Otherwise you wouldn’t have felt so comforted on that bathroom floor, otherwise you wouldn’t be in some confined closet, little to no light with the same person you threw up in front of.

“Well,” he starts off after a minute or two of silence. “This is…”

“Awkward.”

A cough is followed by silence. Then laughter.

Out of all the people at this party, the universe had to fabricate yet another meeting with Leon. The guy who you basically cussed out in order to use the bathroom. The same man that after washing his hands, held your hair up for you and soothed your sickness with a gentle back rub. There is nothing more you want to do right now than crawl out of your skin.

“You feeling a bit better now?” Leon’s voice is hushed when he talks to you, gentle and filled with unexpected care.

Despite the awkwardness of your situation, you can’t help disregarding such lame state of feeling as you lean into his kindness. “Yeah, I had a bit more water and was outside for a bit, so I’m pretty much sober now.”

Your fingernails dig into the flesh of your palm. A nervous tic. “Thank you. And, sorry.”

Leon appears to relax into the flow of conversation, moving his body to lean against the wall of the compact closet you find yourselves in. As he shuffles, notes of smoky vanilla waft in the air, Leon’s cologne finding its way to you. The smile you hide behind a closed fist is all kinds of bashful, body drawn to the intoxicating nature of the fragrance.

“I wasn’t terribly nice to you either, so think of it as making amends,” his hand extends forwards, bridging the gap between the two of you. “Truce?”

Amusement tugs at the ends of your lips, humoured by the hints of unseriousness that seems to be a recurring theme in your story. Going from badmouthing one another to being shoved into a tiny closet for Seven Minutes in Heaven and forced to call truce. It’s the kind of bizarre story that hangs in the air after a night out, disgustingly hungover in bed as your friends jam into someone’s room and recall the night’s events.

“Truce.”

You shake on it, pulling away when the flutter of your heart tickles your chest.

Through the dim sliver of marmalade orange light that peeks through the bottom gap of the door, you catch glimpses of Leon. The sharp slants of his jaw, the heavy flutter of his eyelashes, the sheepishness of his smile - all lopsided and accompanied the hues of strawberry jam red. He’s trying his best and it’s endearing. As is he. Charming and caring, a little silly yet undeniably sweet. Perhaps your perspective on him is a bit skewed due to the remnants of alcohol that float in your system, but if you happened across the same dirty blond, blue eyed boy on campus, you know your heart would still beat the same.

“Three minutes!” Someone yells beyond the door, prompting an uptake in your breath.

Never too forward, Leon draws closer to you, hands to himself as he suggests, “We could just head back out, if you’d like. I’m sure they’re not gonna be too up their asses about it.”

You don’t miss a beat. “I don’t want to.”

You’re both caught off guard. Your eyes widened and Leon’s eyebrow raised. It’s as if you’ve been exposed, barenaked for all the world to see your secrets. In itself, your response isn’t the strangest. Anyone would assume after calling truce, your allocated time meant to be spent together could foster the beginnings of a friendship, a friendly conversation. Even so, Leon and yourself were getting ahead of yourselves - reading in between the lines, sifting for something that was there.

“I mean,” the wardrobe is suddenly indescribably small, the surface of your cheeks warming as your eyes dart all over the place. What is going on here? “We could always just talk or…”

“Or what?”

Leon’s being mean. He knows he is. But, he can’t help himself. Jumping the gun, clawing at any and every opportunity to be close to you. Leon spotted your figure earlier during the course of the night, eyes capturing the shimmer in your eyes and bounce of your hair as you happily twirled your friends around on the dancefloor. You were simply magnetic, doused in dazzle and delight as your glittery makeup highlighted your timeless beauty. Leon would’ve approached you, winning you over with his charm and foolish dance moves - but he needed a drink. A drink which became two, two which became three and ultimately he broke the seal, landing him on a collision course with you outside the bathroom.

This isn’t how he imagined meeting you.

Nevertheless, you were together and despite the not-so-great circumstances presented, Leon made the best of it. Helping you and being the gentleman he is. And even if you never saw each other again, he would still remember you for all the shimmer in your eyes and just how infectious your smile was.

Now, under more favourable conditions, he doesn’t want his time with you to end. You’re just as captivating up close, if not more. Timid yet so sweet. Leon gets lost in you - lost in the details of your hair, your voice, your eyes. He wonders if the longer he prolongs your conversation, the sooner you’ll see his attraction towards you. Hopes you’ll reciprocate, hopes you’ll see it too.

“I don’t know.��� You settle for, casting your eyes away from Leon as you twiddle your thumbs.

You want to be close with Leon, maybe kiss him if you could. But, you just don’t know. He’s seen you at your worst, sick in the toilet without a thought behind your eyes. You’re still embarrassed - even if Leon makes good work of fending that off. And perhaps because of that, along with other complexities, you want to be close with him.

If only he’d let you.

There’s a huff of frustration before something knocks your shoe. You look, examining Leon’s tired Converse shoe that nestles against your own pair of shoes. Your heart stills.

“I saw you earlier,” he starts, standing tall as he inches closer towards you. His pools of blue know only the sight of your lips, pink in hue and supple with lipgloss. He briefly looks away for his own good. “You looked really good on the dance floor.”

The gravity of your current reality settles in quick. Leon’s with you. Initiating everything and bringing this whole charade to a close. Your instinct is to wrestle with the reasons why, question his intentions and ultimately, take a step back. But, you’re exhausted. You’ve done enough mental gymnastics to last you a lifetime. You know you want this, so why can’t you have it? The answer is clear now. You take the plunge, hands grasping onto his backarm as you test the waters. “You think so?”

You’re gazing into each other’s eyes now, nowhere to run or hide. Leon hums in response yet still searches for something in your eyes - a glimmer of hope, confirmation to proceed and gets it in the form of you leaning into him with the bat of your eyelashes. His arms circle your waist, hesitant at first but solid in their place on the small of your back. You’re already seeing stars.

“Leon?” your voice is barely above a whisper, forehead pressed against Leon’s as you grow impatient.

He hums in reply. “Can we? Can we-”

“Can we kiss?” he says this, lips brushing up against yours. You grip his broad shoulder extra hard incase you buckle at the knees.

“Please,” you only manage to get out before your lips connect.

Leon shows you just how much he wants this, how much he wants you in his kisses. Gentle yet firm in his desire, his lips envelope yours in a way that sets your heart ablaze. Your brain short circuits, the sparks soaring between the two of you insatiable as you melt into each other. Your hand falls to brace yourself against Leon’s chest, the accelerated patter of his heart vibrating against your palm. You can’t help the smile that blends into your kiss, opening an invitation for Leon’s tongue that glides against the flesh of your bottom lip.

“Time’s up!”

His teeth plunge into your bottom lip lightly. You separate with a whine.

There’s a moment before the door opens, time where your eyes scan over Leon to gather all your thoughts and take him in. His pupils are full blown, his arctic blue irises submerged in the dilation of his pupils, lips plump with need and breath laboured. He looks far away, as if he is immersed in a dream that’s too good to be true and judging by the smile that graces his face, you’re sure you look the same.

“Need a mint?” Leon’s all jokes, smile giddy and besotted.

You roll your eyes in response, playfully jabbing his hard bicep with a closed fist. “Says the one who stuck his tongue down my throat.”

“Guilty as charged,” he holds his hands up in surrender, eyes giving you their undivided attention. “Wouldn’t mind doing that again though.”

He punctuates his point with circling his arm around your waist, drawing you in close before placing a delicate kiss against the flushed skin of your cheeks. It’s shameful how much you like this guy already.

“You’re disgusting.”

The door opens and you leave the closet happier than you ever were before.

[the-little-ewok]

Push

Jake Lockley x F!reader (Lesser Marc Spector X reader / Steven Grant X reader )

Rating : M

Word count: 3500 (ish)

Warnings : Platonic relationship with hints that more may come (Jake), established romantic relationship (Marc/Steven), DID, divorce mentions, lil bit angsty, lil bit fluffy, lil bit jealousy, mention of voyeuristic intentions

Summary : Set within the Tilt/Balance universe the reader finally meets Marc and Stevens third alter. But Jake has been watching for some time…

A/N : I am not a system, nor do I know anyone who is a system. What is contained here is based solely on my research, the MK show and comics, and is not intended to cause any offence.

To the anon who requested I hope you enjoy. Sorry if it came out a bit boring

A/N 2 : Reading Tilt / Balance will give you a bit of background to these characters but it isn't exactly necessary to enjoy this.

A/N 3 : While listed as F/reader due to the universe it's set in, this can be read as G/N reader also

~

"Sorry I'm late!" You shout, bursting into the flat, kicking off your shoes. "I swear give me five minutes and I'll be ready!"

You rush past Marc as you run to the bedroom, grabbing your outfit from your bag, already knowing that the chances of making your table reservation are slim given the traffic in London on a Friday night.

As you throw it down on the bed something makes you pause. It takes a moment for your brain to catch up and when it does you groan.

"You cooked?" You whine as you inhale the delicious smell of food from the kitchen. "Marc, you didn't have to cook. I know I'm a bit late but we can still go out."

Turning to complain at him you pause, taking in the man standing in the sitting room, surrounded by Stevens books, wearing Marc's t-shirt and pants, looking at you with a smug smile and raised eyebrows. The man who wears your boyfriend's face, but isn't him.

The realisation sinks in quickly of who you are looking at causing your heart to thunder in your chest and your mouth go dry.

"Jake?

He nods in confirmation taking a step towards you, one you mirror by stepping back.

Marc has told you very little of Jake, only that he isn't sure he's ready for you both to meet, still getting to grips with knowing his third alter himself.

You assumed Jake already knew of your existence, and that he knew that you knew of his, but you found with the boys it was easier to let them take things at their own pace no matter how curious you were about meeting their third, their protector.

Suddenly faced with Jake you aren't sure what to do. Physically he still looks like Steven, like Marc, but there's something in his eyes, in the way he holds himself, that is nothing like either of them.

Steven always makes himself small, Marc holds too much tension, like he carries the weight of the word, but Jake, Jake is a statue. Jake is unreadable, at least for now.

"It's nice to finally meet. The others have a lot to say about you," he smiles easily, as though you already know each other.

"All good I hope?" You give an awkward laugh, unsure how to handle the situation. "Is um, are Marc and Steven okay?"

The little you knew about Jake was mostly that he fronted when the boys needed him, when it was dangerous, or too much for either of them to cope. When you'd left the flat for work both of them seemed as happy as usual. You'd left Steven pondering over books, and Marc had called you at lunch to make sure you took a break and had something to eat. Nothing had seemed particularly out of the ordinary, but then nothing in your life was ordinary anymore.

"They are fine. I just decided it was time we meet." Jake shrugs like it's nothing, but you notice an all too familiar twitch of his fingers, one that sets you on edge. Steven used to do the same thing when he was fronting and Marc wanted in, generally when you and Steven were arguing and Marc was itching for control to stop you both.

"So Marc agreed for us to meet? Because that feels like something he might have mentioned." You keep your tone light but you tuck your hands behind your back, curling them into fists the way Marc has taught you.

While you have no reason to fear his alter, the fact this seems suspicious makes you uneasy, especially given everything Steven and Marc have told you about Konshu's hold on Jake. Jake himself may not scare you, but Konshu did.

"We had a long talk about it today." Jake doesn't even miss a beat. In fact his lips twitch upwards as he glances down at your arms, hiding your balled fists behind you.

"I didn't think Marc would give up date night so willingly."

Jake winces, and that tells you all you need to know. Marc knows, but he doesn't have control to stop it. It makes anger spark in your chest on his behalf.

"Can I speak to Marc?"

Jake sighs and opens his mouth, but you cut him off before he has a chance to speak.

"Let me speak to Marc," you repeat, more firmly this time, trying to sound more confident than you really feel. "Or I will leave until you let them front."

A tense silence follows as you do your best to stare him down. Jake gives an amused chuckle at your stubbornness.

"I see why they like you. Alright, speak with him. We can continue this afterwards."

Jake's eyes roll and he lets out a choked noise before Marc stares at you, immediately jumping into an apology as if it's his fault.

"Fuck, I'm sorry, baby! Jake just took me by surprise before I had a chance to stop him."

"Took me by surprise too," you let out a soft laugh, that comes out more nervous than you intended, betraying your wildly beating heart. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Are you okay?" He takes a few steps towards you, and this time instead of stepping back you walk forwards to meet him, allowing him to pull you into a tight hug.

"Yeah just a bit shocked that's all. I thought the days of me dropping in, not sure who I'd find, were gone. Little bit of excitement to my boring day though," you grin, trying to make him feel better as Marc regards you with worry.

"Dinner looks nice," you continue with a smile, gesturing to the beautifully laid out table, trying to distract him.

"I didn't… Jake cooked it." He grits out, clearly annoyed by the situation.

"Oh."

"I've got control of him now. It won't happen again. We can still go out if you feel up to it?" Marc offers.

You hesitate to answer, your mind whirring with questions. Why has Jake decided to intervene now? Was something wrong? Was it just pure chance? Why had he cooked dinner? Did he know it's your favourite meal or had that been a coincidence? Have you met before without knowing?

"Baby?" Marc prompts when you don't answer.

If he says no you won't ask again until he's ready, but now you're here, you have to ask the question. Maybe a little push is what they need.

"Marc," you start softly, taking his hands in yours, "I know you have reservations about Jake but he is a part of you, and I think it's important I get to know him too. I mean after all he has to live here and if I keep dropping in we should know each other."

"Yeah but not like this! Not just out of nowhere before we've even had a chance to talk about it." Marc scowls, his whole body stiff, as though preparing for a fight. You wonder if Jake is fighting to take over again.

"Nothing happens the right way with you anyway. I mean look at us, our relationship has been upside down, sideways and shaken," you laugh affectionately, and though Marc continues to frown his expression softens just a little. "Jake said you talked about it today?"

"Yes. But we didn't agree to anything. And you didn't agree to anything, so you don't have to let him push you into this." Marc cups your face gently, his eyes flicking between yours as he tries to get a read on you, on where your head's at.

"I know. Nobody's forcing me. I just…want to know all of you. You know how badly it turned out when you wouldn't speak to me." You regret the words instantly as Marc drops his eyes, still ashamed of his behaviour during the first few months of your relationship with Steven. You take his hands from your face, holding them and squeezing in a gentle reminder that you've already forgiven all of that.

"But look at us now. The three of us are closer than ever. Jake is the last puzzle piece here. Let me just say hello so he knows I'm not some crazy psycho who's going to hurt you. Plus I won't panic if he fronts when I'm around again. He cooked my favourite food." You shrug, trying to lighten the mood a little and still distracted by the mouth watering smell. Marc ignores your feeble attempt at making jokes.

"Only because the perverted bastards been watching the time you spend with us! I didn't tell him that!" He bursts out, glaring at the table as though it somehow personally offended him.

Your stomach turns uncomfortably at the thought of the intrusion. Marc and Steven had an agreement that when it came to you, for the most part, they would stay out of each other's relationships. That way you knew the time you spent with each of them was solely for that person. But the fact Jake knew things about you, makes you uneasy. Did Marc know the extent that his alter had been watching you? What exactly had he seen?

"Okay, that's… yeah…. weird." You wrap your arms around your waist, shielding yourself from the moment as your mind whirs with questions and concerns.

"You don't have to agree to this, love." You're drawn out of your unsavoury thoughts by Steven’s soft British accent. "Marc's having a word now. Well, several in fact."

"I know but… honestly Steven, I think it's time. And I have questions I want answers to." You glance at the food on the table with a frown.

"I don't know if I'll be able to take control back," Marc warns, clearly feeling he needs to step back in.

You give him a reassuring smile, hoping it comes off as confident. "I don't think Jake is going to hurt me. Hurting me would hurt you both and isn't he supposed to stop that?"

"It's not that. I'm just worried what he will say to you."

"Marc," you start seriously before breaking into a grin, "I very much doubt Jake finally confirming you actually do love Beauty and the Beast, is going to be that bad."

Marc doesn't take the bait, still too wound up in his head, and no doubt listening to the voices of his alters.

"It's not that. I just….I've done some bad things." And there it was. Marc was worried somehow Jake would reveal something he didn't want you to know. Something about the past he keeps carefully locked away and hidden.

You take Marc's hands in yours, squeezing tightly.

"I'm so proud of you. You didn't deny loving the film!" You coo, much to Marc's annoyance as he pulls a face at you, clearly unimpressed.

"Whatever happened in the past, whatever you or Jake or Steven did, it doesn't matter. I know you Marc Spector, and you are a good man. You all are. Now let's get this over with okay?"

Marc looks at you pleadingly, but you stand firm. This has to happen sometime, and while it's out of the blue, so had your meeting been with Marc the first time when you thought you were meeting Steven.

"He says one word out of line," Marc growls, leaving the threat unsaid.

"One word," you agree with a nod.

"And he only gets to eat dinner with you. This is purely an introduction."

You nod again, unsure of anything else Marc might be worried Jake would ask you to do.

"And I get an additional date night with you!"

You try and bite back your laugh but you can't help grinning at him. You could tease him later on his little bout of adorable jealousy. If you were honest, you would miss the time with him too.

"And just to remind you, I hate that film. And if you and Steven watch it one more time!" Laughing, you kiss him softly. Marc's expression relaxes in an instant. "You're sure?"

You step back, letting go of his hands and giving him a nod. You were as ready as you were ever going to be.

"I'm sure."

"We'll be right here if you need us, love. Just say the word," Steven assures you, before he steps back.

Watching the transition is hard. It's not like Marc and Steven, whose switch between them is so smooth it's hard to notice. It's not quite like the way Steven had described his blackouts either, back in the days before he knew Marc. But it's clearly still a difficult transition until Jake slips into place.

"Shall we?" Jake smiles, gesturing to the table, as though he'd never been gone. You suspect he's been listening the whole time.

~

So far you are yet to fully understand Marc’s hesitation at meeting his alter. You and Jake have made small talk and introductions while you eat. Jake had been perfectly friendly, and if you're honest, even a little funny. Although you were trying to make it hard for him, given the way he had jumped in, you still found yourself enjoying his company, at least a little.

"Why the introduction now?" You ask, sipping your drink. It's your favourite and you could assume that Jake had purely got that by coincidence, since Steven always made sure he had some in the cupboards, but combined with the food you suspect not.

"They are going to ask you to move in."

You choke on your food in surprise, snapping your head up to look at Jake, waiting for him to laugh. Only he doesn't. He stares seriously at you.

"Steven decided a while ago but Marc is scared to ask. He feels you might say no."

You swallow, trying to dampen the excited butterflies that erupt in your belly.

"I don't know how he got that impression?"

Jake shrugs, "you know Marc, he has a hard time believing people do actually like him."

You do know that. If you've learnt anything about Marc over your relationship, you've learnt that is a key component. Marc always thought people preferred Steven, and he had a hard time believing anything that suggested otherwise.

"Well, if they are listening," Jake's quirk of his lips let's you know they are, "then I wouldn't say no. I would love to live here, with them. I mean I practically do anyway!"

Steven had already given you a key to the flat, and other than the evenings they were gone, you spent basically every night here.

"That's another reason it was important for us to meet. You never know when we might run into each other." Jake smiles, but his words bring up a remembrance of your concerns. Have you met before?

"Well really you would think we had met already, given you know my favourite food and my favourite drink, probably a lot more than that too. Should I ask if you know what colour underwear I put on today?" The words have a clear bite to them and to your surprise, Jake splutters on his drink, a look of shock widening his eyes.

"I would never!"

You scoff disbelievingly, gesturing to the table.

"Oh come on Jake! Let's at least be honest with each other."

"I have limits," Jake insists, wiping his mouth. "I would never invade yours, or their, privacy that way."

You find that hard to believe.

"Except you already did," you point out.

Jake sighs, defeated.

"Not out of malice or perversion. The last time Marc let someone this close to him it didn't end well, and it took some recovery time. I had to be sure he was okay, and that you could handle it…us."

Layla. Marc has spoken about his ex wife a handful of times. You knew he left, and when they found each other again in the end they decided to part as friends. To your knowledge she was off travelling Egypt, working on archeological sites. Whatever the reasons they didn't work out, Marc had never mentioned, and you never asked. You felt it wasn't your place or your business. Another past item Marc kept locked away.

But it still doesn't make sense. You'd been dating Steven a long time, and Marc a while now too. Why had it taken all this time for Jake to decide to vet you?

"Well, you took your time," you comment, watching his expression.

Jake lets out a soft laugh with a nod.

"Not out of choice, Cariño. Marc keeps you well guarded."

That is easy to believe, and you understood as much from the handful of times the boys have mentioned their other alter. Jake was their protector, and he would do what needed to be done in order to protect them. You got the feeling Marc was scared that Jake wouldn't like you, and subsequently remove you from their lives. You hope you've at least made a good enough impression that that wouldn't happen.

"You swear you've never watched us…" you gesture with your hands, heat prickling the back of your neck, unable to say the words.

"Never," Jake confirms passionately, before he grins, raising an eyebrow, "unless you wanted me to? I'd be more than happy to oblige any desire you have."

It takes all your willpower and sense of decorum not to throw your drink in his face, and you imagine Marc is seething. Judging by the way Jake swallows hard, his fingers gripping the edge of the table, he's fighting Marc for control.

"Let me guess, the boys not take that well?" You give him a smug smile and sip your drink, pleased just a little at their protectiveness of you. Jake holds up his hands in surrender with a nod.

"I seem to remember you allowing Marc to speak to you in the same way."

You open your mouth to protest before closing it again, knowing Jake is absolutely right. When you first started dating Steven, Marc would often make little remarks in much the same way to wind you up, until he realised he had fallen for you, then he'd stopped entirely until the night it all came tumbling out.

"Marc helped me and Steven come together. He gets a free pass on that time in our lives."

"You are good for them, for us," Jake smiles, a soft warm genuine smile, perhaps the first true warmth he's given you all evening. "When you found us everyone was unhappy. We were in a dark place, Marc especially. When we-"

"If it's not something I don't already know, then I don't want to know. Marc doesn't want me involved in his past and I'd like to respect that. Please," you interrupt.

Jake tilts his head, like a dog who doesn't understand. "You're not even a little curious?"

You shake your head. Curious would be an understatement but you had meant what you had said to Marc. The past was the past, and it didn't matter now.

"It doesn't matter. What matters is now and if Marc or Steven wants me to know something, they will tell me."

Jake smiles and leans back in his chair, regarding you proudly. You get the feeling you just passed another kind of test.

It isn't the last of the evening either. Now and again Jake says something, asks something, that feels a little off, leading you somewhere, pushing you, testing you. It makes for an exhausting dinner, and nothing like the relaxing meal you had planned to have with Marc. You do your best to be honest, truthful, and loyal.

All you can do is hope you pass the exam.

~

When the food is finished you help Jake clear away the plates, feeling at least a little accomplished that their alter seems to tolerate you, if not like you a little.

"Does this mean I'll see you more often now?"

"Why, do you want to?" Jake grins. "Sabía que no eras inmune a mis encantos "

Laughing you shake your head, "I never said that. It's just I don't want you to feel like you can't front with me around. I know Marc doesn't like it, but I can talk to him. If we are going to live here then we should do it as a family."

"I appreciate that," he pauses for a moment before he adds "and your trust. You didn't have to meet me tonight but you did."

You smile, "I've learnt that sometimes with those two, it's better just to get the truth out of the way."

Jake smiles, regarding you for a long moment with an expression you can't quite place. It leaves you with a warm feeling in your chest.

"I should go," he says finally, "Thank you for having dinner with me. If you ever change your mind about wanting an audience-"

"I won't." You reply quickly, cutting him off. Jake raises an eyebrow before he lets out a soft laugh.

"Never say never cariño. I look forward to changing your mind." He takes your hand and leaning down, brushes his lips against your knuckles.

In the blink of an eye Jake is gone, and Marc’s furious frown falls into place, his fingers squeezing yours.

"I'm going to murder that bastard! If he thinks he can flirt with you-" Marc cuts out as you laugh, drawing him into your arms to hug him tightly.

"You have nothing to worry about, Spector. I only have eyes for two men in my life." He still frowns unhappily but you persevere, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "Don't let it get to you. There's still a whole lot of date night left you know? I can think of something I want for supper."

Marc's expression changes in an instant, his fingers gripping your hips a little harder.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you smile, pulling his mouth to yours for a much more insistent kiss.

You try not to wonder if Jake is watching.

If you enjoyed reading please consider reblogging and letting me know your thoughts! Remember reblogs keep writers writing!!

~~~~~~~~

*Spanish - I knew you weren't immune to my charms

Thank you to @mandinlore for being amazing and beta'ing this for me!!

[feelbetterlove-books]

Oughhhh okay first of all, I am SO happy to see Bucktommy back on our screens and I WILL be mass reblogging things about them soon, fair warning! I took a bit after the ep to stop jumping up and down about how good it was, but then I came across the subject of this post and so first, to get it out of my system: a rant! It's not about the episode, probably not of any interest to most people, especially Bucktommy fans trying to protect their peace, so feel absolutely free to ignore this, I'll put it under a cut, I just have to get it out. I've been holding my tongue where bobs are concerned for the most part because I don't want to be mean/have a bunch of negativity on my blog/have any of them find and come after me like they're known to do, but idc rn.

So, there's this author I follow on insta, have followed for years, have read a few of her books and had the rest on my tbr. The ones I've read weren't mind-blowing or anything tbh, but for contemporary romances (not my usual genre) I had fun with them. What I really liked about her was that she is so outspoken about all of her books having bi characters: f/f and m/f. Bi4bi m/f, bi woman x straight man, bi woman x lesbian etc. I love to see bi rep and her efforts to make bi characters visible are great, I respected her for it and I found out last season, she's also a 911 fan! A Buck fan! Cool! She ships B*ddi3 but usually idc ship and let ship, I didn't think she was a Bucktommy hater.

That is, until tonight when I went on insta and saw her post. Bee cupcakes as the first pic, I went oh cute, for 911!! But then I scroll through the post and find this bingo card, the more I looked at it, the more I was like 😬 oh so she's a bob, huh? She only cares about Buck and his bisexuality if he's with E**ie? I didn't want to jump to conclusions, but then there's this in her stories (edits by me to highlight what I'm on about):

And I've blocked a LOT of blogs to try and avoid Tommy/Bucktommy hate so getting blindsided by this when I was in such a good mood enjoying our favorite guy's scene sucked. I literally felt sick about it for a while afterwards and I've decided to unfollow her and unhaul the books I own without reading more. It's not the first time I've stopped supporting an artist I was a fan of, granted this reasoning may seem dumb or petty to other people but I just can't get over it, I mean-

You're a romance author with 5 books published, I didn't think it was a stretch to assume you at least had some decent media literacy and appreciation for a good story/a sweet, queer, rom-com inspired ship. But you hate Tommy just because he's in the way of your ship? You champion bi characters, but will hate on the gay boyfriend of one who is breaking stereotypes and making people feel represented because you think his straight best friend would be a better match? Seriously?

And it's not only these two things, I looked her up on tw*tter, which I'm never usually on, but had logged into today to look at Lou's posts, and I found that she follows multiple people who I know to be particularly nasty Tommy haters/bobs. So. Yeah. I'm out of there, I just can't look at her the same anymore, not to be parasocial or whatever but she always seemed cool, I liked her, I wanted to support her work, I HAVE supported her work personally and as someone who works as a bookseller, I've pointed people to her books and sold them.

But now I just have a bad taste in my mouth. There has been SO much hate towards Tommy, Bucktommy, and worse, the real people who ship them, Lou, and even Oliver over the last few months, because it's constantly being stirred up by this kind of B*ddi3 shipper. I would feel sorry for them for how desperate and bitter they are if not for the fact that I simply cannot stand them anymore. They are miserable and determined to make Bucktommy shippers miserable, too.

I just don't get why people can't stay in their fandom lane and leave others alone?? Like, getting mad that Buck's ESTABLISHED BOYFRIEND and E**ie's FRIEND, WHO HE LIKES, was in one (1) scene, when it narratively made sense for him to be there to remind the ga of him, is pathetic. Tommy came to support E at the virtual birthday party of his estranged teenager, and make a heavy scene lighter and you're acting like he's some kind of monster. I can't even, I'm done!

I hope all the bestie boos will start to leave the fandom soon, when Tommy sticks around, because tbh they only care about one thing that's never going to happen and they don't even seem to have fun on their side of the "ship war". They're too busy being nasty all the time, can't talk about their ship without dragging ours down.

Anyway this rant is becoming more generalized than what I planned to say about that person and has already gotten sooo long, so I'm just going to post it to throw all my anger and frustration out there with it and then bury it with happy Bucktommy posts!! If any Bucktommy fan for some reason actually reads this 1. Oof. Sorry! 2. I 💙 you, Bucktommy fans are the best and I'm so glad to be in this fandom despite everything!!

[leftythehelpingtankengine]

Hi and welcome to the Wesker side of tumblr! Happy to have you here <3 I've got a req, either for headcanons or one-shot (preferably the first ^^), a bit unusual but I believe this side of the character is rather unexplored hehe. Which is: sickfic stuff, not for the reader but for the one and only himself. (Would probably be for his captain era, since I don't think the tyrant self can get under the weather but ofc that's up to you here!) Ty for your attention and have a good day/night! - signing,🐍

THANK YOU SO MUCHH!!! You too :) I’ve been a long-time lurker and finally got brave enough to start posting about it LMAO. I like how you think- here’s what I got (I'm so sorry this took so long and I apologize if this wasn’t exactly what you wanted since this is my first time writing a sickfic)

The kind of sickness i see him getting at any point is migraines or a sickness from a weakened immune system due to lack of sleep

Like all of the sleepless or late nights at work came back to bite him in the ass

It would hit him as soon as he woke up the morning after a particularly rough/late-night

His partner would be able to tell something was off as soon as they saw him since he’d look extra tired and worn out

He wouldn’t be used to someone Actually Caring about him so he’d definitely be resistant at first if not through the entire duration of him being sick

His partner is putting their foot down and practically forced him to take a day off and let them take care of him despite him thinking that it’s entirely unnecessary (he’s lying to himself the man can barely keep his eyes open)

They would go the whole nine yards, soup, meds, cold washcloth for his head, etc.

They wouldn’t let him lift a finger and would give a little lecture about his late night work negatively impacting his health over a long period of time

They would do their best to relieve Wesker of whatever he had to so he would have no excuse to do anything but rest

After a while though he'd try to drag the reader back in bed to rest with him, he's incredibly thankful for what they're doing for him and having them close to him always makes him feel at least a little better

[pamprinninja]

How it started, versus how it's going...

I grew up in the UK, 30 minutes from Games Workshop's Nottingham headquarters; and my childhood heavily featured their games, miniatures, and routine trips to the local Games Workshop store.

During this time, I developed a particular affection for the work of Jes Goodwin. Initially an artist and sculptor, Jes' work was strongly geometric in nature; and displayed an unusually high degree of consistency (a particularly noteworthy achievement during a period where miniatures were sculpted by hand with ad-hoc tools).

For reference - one of Jes' early sketches of a Space Marine in Mk. VI armor; as featured in the guide that accompanied the very first Space Marine paint set:

I actually had the pleasure of meeting Jes in person at Games Day '94; and one of my treasured possessions is the souvenir program, which he kindly autographed:

During my teenage years, I came to possess a handful of Chaos Champions sculpted by Jes. As was so often the case in those early years, the miniatures had been designed as dual use; combining the sort of medieval aesthetics that would warrant inclusion in the Warhammer Fantasy Battle setting, but also the occasional technological greeble that would justify use in Warhammer: 40,000.

As I generally kept to the latter system, I set about cutting up and remodeling these miniatures, with the aim of making the science-fiction elements more explicit. And I was very happy with the end results, too!... Which makes it all the more unfortunate that these miniatures were lost when I relocated to the US.

Two decades later, and I have taken it upon myself to recreate these miniatures (albeit with the full advantage of the skills I have developed in the interim). The first mini on the chopping block is 021919 from the 1989 Citadel Catalog (frequently referred to by its most obvious physical characteristic, "Nurgle Chaos Champion With Fly Mutation"):

(It feels vaguely sacrilegious, taking a razor saw to what is now technically an antique; but I very much subscribe to the DIY mentality that was so prevalent during the initial Rogue Trader days, and - given that the model originates for the same time period - keeping the old traditions alive seems only appropriate.)

In my original conversion, I removed the haft and blade of the axe; and positioned an old Space Ork plasma cannon over the now unobscured shoulder. I also replaced the sandaled foot and exposed fly-mutated leg with their armored equivalents from a Space Marine Devastator.

This time I around, I opted to angle the right arm, to add a greater sense of movement; and completely reposition the left arm, as if to calling out a target:

(In doing so, I created a great many headaches for myself: the right hand snapped off at the wrist, and had to be repaired. Cutting the left arm free necessitated cutting through the hand; and the pins I inserted into the remains of the palm broke free, requiring JB Weld to resecure.

I cannot underscore the frustration inherent to these two experiences; at the same time, I'm a great believer in the idea that growth as an artist demands taking risks - up to and including potentially ruining one's art.)

The original version of the conversion also featured an extended barrel (fabricated from the Lord Fuegan's firepike, and a handful of random Genestealer claws). However, I wanted to replace this with something a little more appropriate for a follower of the Lord Of Pestilence; which ended up being the better part of a Plague Spewer:

In terms of next steps: I intend to strap a canister of goo-based ammunition to his left side; and continue to add new detailing to hide the various cuts and joins.

[bekaterrier]

Happy Audio Drama Sunday! I listened to a few things this week (gushing and spoilers ahead):

@woodenovercoats S4: You know it's going to be a good season when it's already got me tearing up in the third episode! Madeline and her family!! 😭 Madeline and Rudyard besties! 🥰 I absolutely loved seeing Antigone continue to grow this season. She just wanted to be seen, to know she was strong enough to be seen, and she was!! We also got to hear Rudyard give more time to his life outside the funeral home, particularly his special interest in history! We finally got Chapman's backstory! Heartbreaking though. 💔 Holy shit that sound design when Chapman and Rudyard go over the falls was *chef's kiss*. My first thought re: the Funns running Chapman's was "Oh lord, how is Rudyard going to F this up?" It was really nice to hear them actually properly put on a funeral like we knew they could. Throughout the season, we heard Eric and Antigone grow closer and some feelings start to develop there. Then hearing Eric calling out for Antigone in his dream was...whew. "Sorry about the chloroform." 😂 Georgie's cycle of grief is so real. It hits you at the most unexpected moments. They're a town!!!! And of course he came back, he's home!!!!! This ending is so perfect, so absolutely satisfying. This show was incredible ♥️

@midstpodcast S1: I've been seeing so much about this show in my feed lately as its third and final season released, so I just had to jump into it. And wow am I hooked! The way the narrators share the story and the character voices between them is fascinating. The world building is absolutely incredible - the visual they painted of the fold sweeping through is just chilling. Combine that with the actual visual elements created by the podcast, seen in the YouTube videos...so so cool. Side note - I hate the Trust; the way that its systems ensure that those at the bottom are kept down, rewarding those already at the top...kudos to another podcast where one of the villains is capitalism. In any case, I was so absorbed in the stories of each of the three protagonists, trying to see ahead to how their lives would intersect, I almost forgot about the very first scene! The moon falls out of the sky!! Absolutely wild!! I'm very much looking forward to learning more about the consequences of this and the impact on Midst.

@midnightburgr Welcome to the Horizon Part 3 - The Wayfaring Stranger: God I love this town and these people. I laughed out loud so many times this episode! Frank and June's reactions to Verge's background are hilarious. I'm so glad we have Verge in this mini-series. It's also so fun to hear them flirting with Deirdre, especially after hearing their VAs as not so friendly in Moonbase Theta, Out (love you Cat and Tina). The news that we get from Trinkett about the comet is verrry interesting and concerning, so looking forward to seeing where that goes.

@tellnotalespod S1 & S2 (to date) re-listen: TNT is currently on their mid season break, so I re-listened to everything that's been released so far. I said earlier this season that it was going to be tough listening to all the S2 episodes in a row since many of them made me cry individually...and I was right! 😭 I am so looking forward to the rest of S2, and I really hope Leo, Riley and Julia all get the hugs they need, preferably from each other.

@storiesfromylelmore Winter Solstice crowdfunding episode: I love hearing the kids out and up to their shenanigans! It was also really sweet to get a glimpse of the parents doing their thing, but also loving all the kids (even though Elas can sometimes be puce). I also loved hearing more about their world's Winter Solstice story! The worldbuilding is so fantastic.

@hinaypod Episode 41 - Danny Boy (Pride Episode 2024): I'm glad I listened to this one during the day because I definitely would have gotten creeped out by some of the curse's descriptions if I'd listened at 2AM, as I sometimes do. We got quite lore dump on our favourite horrible old man, but I still have so many questions!!

[batsplat]

new casey podcast have you seen it

https://m.youtube.com/watch?si=ye8wNfrvaPDjtpDV&v=IuwZN6aP8sg&feature=youtu.be

(link to the podcast) yeah I did, cheers!

there's not that much 'new information' per se within this podcast, though there's a bunch of nice tidbits about teenage casey. what stood out to me is how the framing of his journey to becoming a racer is... well, it's kinda new? it's not exactly surprising, because you could get a lot of this stuff from reading between the lines in his autobiography. the question of 'is this your dream or your parents' dream' is a very common one with athletes, and it's often a thin line... but, y'know, this podcast interview in particular is quite a noticeable shift in how casey himself talks about this issue. it's a shift in how he portrays his 'dream' of becoming a professional rider back when he was formulating his autobiography, versus how he's answering questions in this episode. his autobiography isn't free from criticism of his parents - but casey is always stressing his own desire to race. so you do get stuff like this (from the autobiography):

At this point things were getting serious. Dad used to say, 'If you want to become World Champion you can't be that much better than local competition,' holding his finger and thumb an inch apart. 'You have to be this much better,' he'd say, holding his arms wide open. Dad confirms this feeling still today: 'I know it's a harsh way to look at things but that's the difference between a champion and the rest. Just look at the careers of Dani Pedrosa and Jorge Lorenzo. Dani had Alberto Puig and Jorge had his old man, both of them hard as nails. If you want to make it to the top I think it takes somebody with an unforgiving view on life to help get you there. So I said those things to Casey, particularly when we went to the UK, because to keep moving up a level he couldn't just be happy with winning a race. If he wasn't winning by a margin that represented his maximum performance then he wasn't showing people how much better he was than the rest.' There's no denying that Dani, Jorge and I became successful with that kind of upbringing and sometimes you probably do need it. As far as I'm concerned Alberto was nowhere near as tough on Dani as my dad was on me or Jorge's dad was on him. That kind of intensity and expectation puts a lot of extra pressure on a father-son relationship that isn't always healthy. We definitely had our moments and there were a few major blow-ups to come. But at the time, rightly or wrongly, it was proving to be a good system for us and I was eager to continue impressing my dad and others with my performances on the track.

(quick reminder, jorge's review of his father's style of parenting was describing him as "a kind of hitler")

but in general the emphasis is very much on how much casey enjoyed racing, on how single-minded casey was when it came to racing. he might have been isolated by his racing (again this is from the autobiography, in the context of discussing being bullied by kids in school until he got 'protection' from his dirt track friends):

School life was a whole lot better after that but I still hated it. All my real friends were from dirt-track; they were the only people I had anything in common with.

and he's talked about how other parents misinterpreted his shyness as him not actually wanting to race, which meant they were judging casey's parents as a result (autobiography):

Mum tells me that the other parents thought she and Dad were awful because I cried as I lined up on the start line. She remembers: 'I was putting his gloves on his hands and pushing his helmet over his head. The thing was, I knew Casey wasn't crying because he didn't want to ride or because he was scared. He just didn't like the attention of being stared at by all these people!'

but like. overall racing for him was still something he portrayed as a very positive aspect of his childhood. something he always clung onto, something that was his choice to pursue

so... let's play compare and contrast with some specific passages of the autobiography and this podcast, you decide for yourself. take this from his autobiography:

After I started winning more times than not, and it was obvious my passion for bikes wasn't wavering, Mum and Dad decided that seeking out sponsors could be a great idea to help offset some of the costs of travelling to meets and keeping the bikes in good order.

and here, in a longer excerpt about what a sickly child casey was, what his mother said (autobiography):

'They tested him for cystic fibrosis and he was on all kinds of medication; you name it, he was on it. But Casey still raced, we couldn't stop him.' I know I was sick but Mum was right, I wasn't going to let that stop me.

versus this from the podcast, when he's responding to a completely open question about how he got into riding:

To be honest, I don't know if I was allowed to have any other attraction to be honest. I think it was, you know, you're going to be a bike rider from when I was a very very young age - and I'm not the only one to think that. I think my parents have stated that enough times to certain people and you know I was sort of pushed in that direction. My elder sister who's six and a half years older than me, she actually raced a little bit of dirt bikes and dirt track before I was born and when I was very young, so it was sort of a natural progression to go and do a little bit more of that and I think because at the time road racing was a lot more similar to dirt track. That was our sort of way in.

this was one of the very first questions in the interview, it basically just consisted of asking casey how he got into biking in the first place - whether it had come through his family or whatever. casey chose to take the response in that direction... it's not an answer that is just about his own internal passion, how he loved riding the second he touched a bike, how he loved it throughout his childhood etc etc (which is how it's framed in the autobiography) - but instead he says he wasn't allowed to do anything else. he says that he was pushed in that direction, that his parents have openly said as much to others. that he feels vindicated in the belief he was never given another choice

let's play another round. here from the autobiography:

Mum and Dad used to stand at the side for hours on end watching me practise at different tracks. They'd sometimes clock laps with a stopwatch as I went round and round. Other parents couldn't see the point in taking it so seriously but they didn't realise it was what I wanted. I was having fun. Working out how to go faster was how I got my kicks and I couldn't stop until I had taken a tenth or two of a second off my best time on any day. If another kid came out onto the track with me I would be all over them, practising passing them in different ways and in different corners, but most of the time they avoided riding with me and I would be out there on my own, racing the clock.

and this (autobiography):

I enjoyed racing so much that even when I was at home riding on my own I would set up different track configurations to challenge myself. I'd find myself a rock here, a tree there, a gatepost over there and maybe move a branch and that would be my track.

versus here, in the podcast:

Q: And did you realise at the time that you were - not groomed, is not the word but well you were being groomed to be a professional motorcycle racer, or obviously that was your only one reference point, that was the norm. Did that just feel the norm or did you think actually this feels a bit intense or how did you feel about it? A: I think it's hard, it's not until I sort of reached my mid teens where I started to have a bit of a reality check on what I was actually doing. Before then, you know I was competitive. I'm not as competitive as people think, I'm a lot more competitive internally rather than externally versus other people. I always challenge myself to things, so all those younger years was just getting the job done that I was expected to do. I enjoyed winning, I loved it, but you know I enjoyed perfect laps, perfect races, as close as I could get to that and you know from a young age I always sort of challenged myself constantly to be better. So I didn't just win races, I tried to win them - you know, if I won races by five seconds in a [...] race I'd try and win, you know I'd try and get to double that by the end of the day if I could. So you know that always kept me sharp and it stopped me from being sort of, you know, complacent in the position I was at. And it wasn't until sort of you know 16, 17, 18 that reality kicked in. I'd had a couple years road racing in the UK and Spain, been rather successful and then you get to world championships and you know maybe an engineer that was sort of - didn't have your best interests at hear. And, you know, I nearly finished my career right there after my first year of world championships just because of the reality of how hard it was in comparison to everything else I'd experienced up to that point. And, you know, it was a real reality check for me and I think it was then that I started to - you know consider everything around me and consider how and why I got to the position that I was in and that's when the mind started to change a little bit and realise that you know I really was being groomed my whole life just to sort of be here and be put on a track and try and win. And, you know, that was my seemingly most of my existence.

in all the excerpts, he stresses how much he enjoys his perfect laps, how much he enjoys riding, how there is genuine passion there, how dedicated he is to this pursuit... but then in the podcast, he's adding something else - how he'd been groomed his whole life into that role of 'professional bike racer'. that it was only in his late teens (when he was in 125cc/250cc) where he had this moment of 'man I never really had a choice in all this'

and another round. here's him talking in the autobiography about how all the money he got through racing went back into racing - but it was fine because it was the only thing he cared about anyway:

I don't remember seeing any of the money I earned because it all went back into my racing, although I guess at the time that's all I really cared about anyway. I didn't know anything else. Mum and Dad always said to me: 'If you put in the effort, we'll put in the effort.'

and here in the autobiography on how he just wanted to ride all day:

I couldn't ride my bike all day, though, as much as I would have liked to.

and him talking in the autobiography about his parents encouraging him and his sister to 'chase their dreams':

Mum and Dad encouraged both Kelly and me to follow our passions and work hard to chase our dreams. That might sound strange when you are talking about a seven-year-old but I don't think you are never too young to know that if you want something you have to earn it.

versus this in the podcast:

Q: And I've never asked you this before, but did you want to? A: Um... I think I'd been convinced of a dream I suppose. You know, yes I loved riding bikes and you know I really did enjoy racing... but there was lots of other things that I - I really enjoyed as well but just never had the opportunity or never was allowed to do anything else, so... You know, motorbikes for our budget everything fortunately dirt track was probably the cheapest way that you could go motorbike racing. You could survive on very very little in dirt track and show your potential in other ways. You know, yes, having good bikes and good tyres and all that sort of thing made a difference but it wasn't the be all end all, you could always make a difference in other ways, so... I think it was, you know - the best thing we could have done, racing through that. Like I said I enjoyed it, it wasn't until late teens, early 20s where I sort of was like, I don't know if I would have been a bike racer had I actually had a choice.

was riding really all he cared about? or were there other things he was interested in, things he just never had the opportunity to pursue? things he wasn't allowed to pursue? from the autobiography, you get the sense that his parents always deliberately portrayed it as casey's dream, something he was expected to work hard for in order to be allowed to fulfil. in the podcast, casey says it was a dream he was 'convinced' of. without wanting to speak too much on the specifics of this parenting relationship we only have limited knowledge of, this kinda does all sound like athlete parent 101: getting it into their kids' heads that this is the dream of the child, not the parent, before holding it over them when they fail to perform when their parents have invested so so much in their child's success. casey's family was financially completely dependent on his racing results when they moved to the uk - he was fourteen at the time. he was painfully conscious of his parents' 'sacrifice' to make 'his dream' possible. can you imagine what kind of pressure that must be for a teenager?

to be clear, this isn't supposed to be a gotcha, I'm not trying to uncover contradictions between what casey said back then and what he's saying now. obviously, this is all very... thorny, complicated stuff, and casey has had to figure out for himself how he feels about it, how he feels about how his parents approached his upbringing. but it is worth pointing out that this isn't necessarily just a question of his feelings changing over time - if the internal timeline he provides in the podcast is correct, he was really having that realisation in his late teens, early 20s, so on the verge of joining the premier class. that is when he says he had the thought "I don't know if I would have been a bike racer had I actually had a choice"... which is a pretty major admission, you have to say, especially given how rough those premier class years often ended up being on him. but then that realisation would have already come years and years before he wrote his autobiography, it would've been something he carried with him for most of his career. given that, you do look at his autobiography and think that he did make the decision to frame things pretty differently back then, that he decided to exclude certain things from his narrative. if this really is already something that's been festering within him for years, if he does feel like he wants to be a bit more open about all of that now than back then... well, hopefully it shows he's been able to work through all of it a bit more in the intervening years

(this is somehow an even thornier topic than his relationship with parents, but relatedly there is a bit of a discrepancy between how bullish he is in his autobiography about how mentally unaffected he was by his results, versus how he's since opened up since then about his anxiety. again, I want to stress, this is not a gotcha, he's under no obligation to share this stuff with the world - especially given the amount of discourse during his career about his supposed 'mental weakness'. it is still important in understanding him, though, how he consciously decided to tell his own story in the autobiography and how he's somewhat changed his approach in the subsequent years)

this is the rest of his answer to that podcast question I relayed above:

But at the same time you know I felt that no matter what I would have done, I sort of have a - my mentality of self-punishment, you know, of never being good enough that always drove me to try and be better and any single thing that I did, I didn't like it when I wasn't not perfect. I don't believe in the word perfect but I really didn't enjoy when I wasn't, you know, in my own terms considered a good enough level at anything I did so I would always sort of try to get up as high as I could regardless of what for.

at which point hodgson says exactly what I was thinking and goes 'god what a line' about the "mentality of self-punishment" thing. it is one hell of a line!

what's really interesting about this podcast is how these two big themes of 'this wasn't my choice' and 'self-punishment' end up kinda being linked together when casey talks about how the motogp world reacted to him... so again I'm gonna quickly toss in a bit from the autobiography (where he's talking about casual motorcycling events he went to as a kid), because it does read similarly in how for him the joy and competitive aspects of riding are closely linked:

It was a competition but it wasn't highly competitive; it was just for fun, really. Of course, I didn't see it that way, though, and I had dirt and stones flying everywhere. I don't think anyone expected the park to be shredded like it was. When I was on my bike, if I wasn't competing to my maximum level then I wasn't having as much fun.

and back to the podcast:

And also because people truly didn't understand me, that I'm not there just to enjoy the racing. As we're explaining, before that, you know it was sort of a road paved for me... And so the results were all important, not the enjoyment of it. And then you cop the flak for everything you do. I'm also very self-punishing, so it was kind of a - just a lose lose lose and it was all very very heavy on myself, so... It, you know, it took me till my later years to realise I could take the pressure off myself a little bit and go look you've done all the work you've done everything you can, you got to be proud of what you've done, so... Not necessarily go out there and enjoy it, because I don't believe you should just be going out in a sport where you're paid as much as we are expect to get results and just - you know - oh I'm just going to go and have fun it's like... yeah, nah, if you're just going to go and have fun then you're not putting in the work. And that's when we see inconsistencies etc. So I was very very harsh on myself and so even when I won races, if I made mistakes or I wasn't happy with the way I rode, well then yeah I'm happy I won but there's work to do. There was more to get out of myself and so that's where I copped a lot of bad... um, let's say bad press because of those kind of things and then they sort of attack you even more because they didn't like the fact that you didn't celebrate these wins like they wanted you to they expect you to I suppose treat every victory like almost a championship and you know it's not that I expected these wins but I expected more of myself and therefore maybe I didn't celebrate them as much as you know other people do.

kind of brings together a lot of different things, doesn't it? this whole profession was a path that was chosen for him... which he links here to how the results were 'all important' for him, how it just couldn't ever be about enjoyment. he always punished himself for his mistakes, he was under constant pressure, which also affected how he communicated with the outside world... he was so committed to self-flagellation that he made it tough for himself to actually celebrate his victories, which in turn wasn't appreciated by the fans or the press. so on the one hand, casey's obviously still not particularly thrilled about how much of a hard time he was given over his particular approach to being a rider. but on the other hand, he's also describing how all of this can be traced back to how becoming a rider was never actually his 'choice'. he's detailed his perfectionism before, including in his autobiography, including in discussing his anxiety disorder more recently - but this is explicitly establishing that link between the pressure he'd felt during his childhood to how he'd been pushed into this direction to how he then had to perform. he couldn't afford to be anything less than perfect, so he wasn't, and at times he made his own life even tougher as a result of his own exacting standards. this just wasn't stuff he's said in such straightforward, explicit terms before... and now he is

my general thing with casey is that his reputation as a straight shooter or whatever means people aren't really paying enough attention to how he's telling his own story. like, I kinda feel the perception is 'oh he used to be more closed off because the media ragged on him but since retirement he's been able to tell it like it really is' or whatever. and I'm not saying that's necessarily wrong, but it's not quite as simple as that. because he's not a natural at dealing with the media, he's put a fair bit of thought into how to communicate better with them (which he does also say in the podcast), and he's explicitly acknowledged this is something he looked to valentino for in order to learn how to better handle. because casey has felt misunderstood for quite a long time, he's quite invested in selling his story in certain ways - and it's interesting how what he's chosen to reveal or emphasise or conceal or downplay has changed over time. which means there will be plenty of slight discrepancies that pop up over time that will be as revealing as anything he explicitly says... and it tells you something, what his own idea of what 'his story' is at any given time. this podcast isn't just interesting as a sort of, y'know, one to one, 'this is casey telling the truth' or whatever - it's reflecting where his mind is at currently, what he wants to share and in what way, and how that compares to his past outlook. the framing of his childhood was really something that popped out about this particular interview... it's not like it's exactly surprising that this is how he feels, but more that he decided to say all of this so openly. some pretty heavy stuff in there! hope the years really have helped him... man, I don't know. figure it all out, for himself. something like that

[bobbinrobins]

Is Stephanie going to show up grounded bird's nest? And we'll she be a human or borrower? If she a human can we get some head cannons on her, Cass, and Tim's friendship? :D

I'm going to start answering this question by explaining my general plans for Ground-Bird's Nest! (Putting under the cut in case people don't want to look for minor spoiler reasons)

I have fully outlined the rest of it, and at this time I do not plan for Stephanie to show up. I love Stephanie dearly (and Barbara, and other associated Batfamily members), but this is my first time writing a long-form fic like this and I'm already struggling a little bit with scope as it is. For this particular story, I've decided to focus most directly on the current cast as it stands, as they are characters who have a direct parent-child relationship with Bruce in the comics!

However, I have several ideas for stories within that universe that involve characters who probably won't make an appearance in the main story, and it's likely that Stephanie will appear :] I haven't honestly decided if she'll be a human or borrower but now that I'm thinking about human Stephanie with a bunch of borrower bats I kind of love it. So have some headcanons:

Tim is already kind of a minor agent of chaos in this universe. Stephanie absolutely enables and encourages this, and more often than not their antics drive Bruce up a wall. Cass is more or less happy to be along for the ride.

She definitely gets a toy remote-control Batmobile and takes them for a joyride. Tim is absolutely thrilled by this. Bruce is not so pleased, but he can't help but melt a little bit at seeing how eager Tim is to ride in an imitation Batmobile. (Still, he puts his foot down after one too many close calls.)

Considering Stephanie handmade her first Spoiler costumes, no one can convince me that she's not great at sewing, and she absolutely uses this skill to make gifts for her tiny pals. It's a challenge making outfits that are comfortable and durable while also being very tiny, but after some trial-and-error (and some advice from a pleased Alfred) she ends up making some fabulous ensembles for them. (She also occasionally makes them sillier outfits, like fluffy onesies, as jokes. Cass, however, adores hers and wears it frequently, much to Stephanie's delight.)

Stephanie loves to rope Tim and Cass into regular movie/TV nights. Neither of them have gotten the opportunity to watch many movies or series thus far, so Stephanie delights in getting to show them some of her favorites, and eventually, they rotate who picks what they watch.

Stephanie also gets both Tim and Cass into both board and video games. Tim latches onto chess, and he and Steph engage in many fierce matches from that point on. Cass enjoys card games, particularly poker (they bet things like Goldfish and candies), which might be because she can always tell when Steph and Tim are bluffing and nearly always cleans them out. (They came up with some sort of system for the borrowers to handle the playing cards, which are probably about as tall as them. :D) Stephanie's favorite to play with them, however, is probably traditional board games, because she thinks it's extra fun when Tim and Cass get to stand in as their own pieces. (Tim and Cass don't fully get it, but Stephanie always gets remarkably excited at the prospect, so they roll with it.)

And, building off of that, I can't help but think about all of them playing D&D together. (Tim was canonically a TTRPG player in his Robin run, so I imagine he catches wind of it from Stephanie and ropes everyone else into it). Stephanie volunteers to DM and takes great joy in painting and customizing minis for their combat encounters. If one of the borrowers get the final blow on one of the enemies, they get the honor of physically pushing the mini over to mark it as deceased. 😌

[starheirxero]

HOLY SHIT- HOLY. SHIT. I CAN'T BELIEVE, EVIL EARTH IS BACK-

I HONESTLY DIDN'T THINK, WE'D HEAR FROM THE OTHER DIMENSIONS AGAIN-

THIS ENTIRE EPISODE WAS SO FASCINATING!!!

Earth's entire character revolves around making people happy! She is the caretaker, the therapist, the golden child.

She is kind to a fault, always wanting everyone to be happy, and putting the people around her above her.

She was created and taught to do so. It's her purpose.

THIS IS SUCH A CLEVER SPIN TO HER CHARACTER-

Taking the character trait that defines her the most, and twisting it into something sinister?? Holy shit, I love that!!!

This truly makes her feel in-character, while still giving her a chilling edge!

Instead of simply trying to make people happy, she's actively forcing them to! Even brainwashing them with camps!

And if they can't be happy? If they won't be? Then they are tainting her perfect utopia, and need to die.

This Earth seems to idolize the Creator a lot more, or he, at the very least, generally seems to have rubbed off on her, considering her apathy towards her sinister actions!

I cannot describe to you, how much I love this!!

I'm also really interested in her dynamic with her brothers, and the general world-building!

For one, she actively mentions, that their hatred for her comes from a place of prejudice, because she's a robot. The Creator's robot, to make it worse.

I love, how they consistently throw in humans' distaste for animatronics, and the latter's lack of rights!

Though in this case, that's definitely not it-

She also generally seems to take more of an older sister role? The way she talks to her Lunar sounds like an indeared older sibling, using a higher tone and generally seeming amused by their antics! Also her mentions of them being "silly" again, much like an older sibling indulging in her little sibling's games. This also plays into her patiently explaining everything.

I can't quite say for her dynamic with Moon, though it has shifted somehow!

There's little to go off, when analyzing the brothers, though they too seem generally more apathetic, and honestly tired. Especially Moon.

It's also interesting to note, that this Lunar apparently has a lot of memory issues, the humans actively meddling with their systems to put them against their sister! So much so, that Earth seems very much used to it!

This world fascinates me so much, and I hope, we'll see them again!

With her comeback, I also have hopes to see the other AUs again!

Listen- I need Lunara to make an appearance- I need them to be an antagonistic maniac- I need to know more about their resets, and how long it's been going on- I need them in my life-

I really hope to see a glimpse of Lord Lunar and Servant Eclipse again, and see if their dynamic has shifted since Gregory came by-

I want God Eclipse to be a smug bastard-

I also want go give a shout out to Ruin for being absolutely UNHINGED when it comes to building- Buddy legit built a high tech spaceship in underneath a year, and got a hold on several whiterstorm pieces-

And it feels CRIMINAL not to at least mention Earth's dream episode- Which I haven't done, cause brain fog-

It made me incredibly emotional too!! It's just-

The atmosphere was so incredibly somber…

Earth KNEW, he wasn't real, yet still found comfort in his memory-

OUCH-

-Stardust

YEHWYSYAYAYYAYAYA I KNOW RIGHT!!!!! GENUINELY I'M SO HAPPY THEY BROUGHT HER BACK AND SHOWED OFF MORE OF HER CHARACTER AND HER WORLD IT MADE ME SO HAPPYYYY!!!! I always thought it was a lil weak sauce that, last time, they just went "she's a dictator, evil enough!" so having them revisit her to elaborate and make her properly villainous is EVERYTHING TO MEEEE

AND YEA YEA YEA I LOVEEEE HOW THEY TWISTED HER MOTIVE!!! Exactly like u said abt her having more the Creator's influence, I adore that it's still distinctly her goal, it's just that she's not as emphatic about what she has to do to achieve that goal! And YEA the fact people were particularly displeased about her being the Creator's creation fascinates me.

In my heart I'm imagining someone in her universe made a very online callout post about her and her ties to the creator HSKAHSKS "ouf, unfollowing her now. i was a fan of her 'keep everyone happy' goal but i didn't know she was made by That guy 😬" LMAO

BUT ALSO WITH HER SIBLINGS YEAH YEAH YEAH!!!!! She's definitely more authoritative with them, especially with Moon just outright calling her "boss"?!?!!! Whatever is happening there has me SO INTRIGUED. It definitely make me wonder what the lead-up to all this looked like...

I was sort of talking about smth similar with a friend earlier, like. if any of them ever pushed back at any point, only to be put in their place, or if they've just always been too scared to work against her.....

SPECIFICALLY LUNAR HAS ME SO FASCINATED THO YEAH. I cannot explain why for the lofe of me but the fact they're usually a target of the rebel's attacks and have constant memory issues as a result just scratches smth in my brain I rlly like it HAKAHXK

AND YEAAAHHHHHH OH MY STARS IF ANY OTHER AUS ARE REVISITED I THINK I'D GENUINELY ASCEND. MY SOUL WOULD LEAVE MY BODY. EXTRA DETAILS AND INTERACTIONS... TSAMS... TLAES... IF YOU HEAR ME PLEASE HAJAHAJAHS

ANS RUIN YEAHSJQHSKHS IDK HOW ELSE TO DESCRIBE IT BUT LIKE. LITERAL SOLAF BEHAVIOR. THEY BOTH APPARENTLY LOVE TO WORK THEMSELVES SILLY 😭 AND EARTH'S EP I KNOWWW I KNWOEHHRGRHEGRHRGRG

Genuinely that whole ep was DEVASTATING. The whole "you don't know what he'd say, do you?" coming out of his own mouth had me MESSED UPPP 😭😭😭 1 MILLION EMOTIONS ATTACK FOREVER

[blitz0hno]

For the ask game: general 1, 3, 6, 7. Prisoner, 1, 3 (Amane), 4 (mikoto) I didn’t ask too much questions did I

I AM SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG RAHHHH I got the notif, forgor, got another ask for this like a day ago, forgot again, and finally check my inbox today lmao you asked the perfect amount of questions no worries!!

General:

1. My favorite prisoner? It really is Mikoto I cannot tell a lie 😭 why? He's just... So heartbreakingly earnest. And when I was on Milgram Twitter back in 2021 I really didn't want his story to be a DID story. I wasn't about to discuss that stuff on a pretty public account no matter how intrigued we were. However, as time went on, and we thought about how all the other prisoners are "mentally ill" in some form or another, we held out hope that the whole "DID murderer who doesn't remember" thing would be subverted in some way. We came to really really look forward to his second trial, and after Purge March even moreso. In our opinion, Milgram team fuckin DELIVERED when Oct. 25th came around. While I personally relate more to John, Mikoto's story and how it's being told are very important to me. The extreme ambiguity of it all makes it better honestly; it's strikingly realistic in that sense. A host who has no idea what's going on or how to deal with it, in a boat with a bunch of presumable singlets who feel the same way, strikes a chord that few other medias have. Plurality is a very difficult topic to do justice, but I think Mikoto's narrative is very humanizing.

3. Favorite headcanon has gotta be the sibling-type relationships, particularly Amane and Fuuta. I love the idea of them stirring up trouble together. Trans headcanons are also my favorite anything ever (transmasc Fuuta and Mikoto/John and nonbinary Amane are my personal favs but transfemme!Fuuta, transfemme!Kazui and other trans headcanons are all GOATed imo)

6. RAHHHHHHH DIFFICULT favorite MV? siiiigh it probably is MeMe. Surprise tone-shift? Check. Tarot motif? Check. THE CRIME IN BRUTAL DETAIL? Check. Lyrics go crazy. Color palette goes crazy. Outfits go crazy. Although I will say "I Love You" is criminally underrated and provocative. Also LOVVVVED Harrow, Tear Drop, INMF, Purge March and Deep Cover. It's so hard to pick!!

7. Who I would get along with? Ironically, probably Fuuta. I think I would put up with his gruff attitude better than most, and we'd probably have similar worldviews regarding justice and the systems in place in society. I've been in similar (thankfully less serious) positions regarding his murder. We both enjoy video games and ramen lol he's still a little shit tho. I also feel like Yuno and I have very similar worldviews and would get along just fine.

Prisoners:

1. What do I think of Amane? Easily one of my favorites. Why? SHE IS SO REAL THAT'S WHY. She's thoroughly heartbreakingly indoctrinated but STILL trusts herself enough to do what's in her best interest in protecting herself. She denies herself so much joy to honor her devotions, even though I'm almost sure she will come to realize that the only "god" looking out for her is her. She just wants everyone to have the "heaven" of infinite happiness she's been promised, and doesn't yet understand that it's something one must make for themselves and that no one can see and know her every move and judge her like that.

3. Amane's first verdict was cruel, but I understand why it happened. Magic's very vague about who she killed and it seemed like she did it simply because the doctrine said to. It was almost like she'd been manipulated into doing it and didn't feel bad at all. When really, she was just joyous that she got to punish her abuser for once, using the rules THEY told her; not the other way around. I still do regret voting "unforgiven," personally. Her second verdict though? Based. I was in the trenches w y'all for that shit. Purge March my beloved. She had every right to punish someone who would torture a child and I don't see how Kotoko doesn't get that??? Amane inno sweep all the way they better treat my girl RIGHT from now on.

4. What do I wish people understood more about Mikoto? Woooo boy. How do I word this.

In the fandom: Mikoto is just a host alter - he's as capable of being mean and aggressive as John is capable of being nice. And his response to John and anger towards the protector is as natural as it is unfair. He's not immune to being a flawed human and deals with stress very differently from John despite sharing a body. Mikoto's denial keeps him going along "normally," but it's doubtless that "he," Mikoto, is truly the responsible one for the crime (as hosts often are the ones making big decisions). And idk, people seem to understand overall?? But there still seems to be confusion sometimes, about how John isn't "just" a protector, but a completely separate person/ego state. Neither one is the "main" alter, or a "nicer"/"better" alter. They're rounded people like the rest of the prison.

In-universe: I wish they understood him and John. I wish they knew he switched sometimes, and that though they're different they aren't dangerous just by virtue of being like that. I wish Mikoto wouldn't shame himself for not "measuring up," and accept himself and what he's done. But we're going to superhell so idk about that.

Thanks for asking!

[elizmanderson]

writeblr q&a

overdue thanks to @queen-tashie for the tag! I've had this notif in my email for like. a solid week just waiting to have energy for it lmao

1. What motivates you to write?

I just gotta

2. A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud/happy of.

(If not maybe share a line of someone else's work you love - just please credit them.)

from The Keeper of Lonely Spirits (2025):

The live oaks were his favorites. They were quiet and gruff but not unfriendly. Reminded him of himself, except that they grew toward each other.

3. What part of writing do you think you are the best at?

(Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)

characters for sure. sometimes it takes some doing to get them fully out of my head and onto the page (bc it's like, I know how they are, so I forget that readers won't know unless, y'know, I show them), but they're full-on people to me and I think I do great with them

4. What do you enjoy most about the Writeblr community?

I do not think I am particularly part of the Writeblr community simply bc of how I use Tumblr? like mostly I'm here scrolling for funny stuff or beautiful stuff. like this is the one place I come to just. dick around lmao.

I'm also generally not great at connecting with people on social media (it's been known to happen but it's still a mystery to me how), so I'm mostly connected to Writeblrs I already know from elsewhere. but I like seeing more of their writing on here 💖 and also their responses to tag games!

5. A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing?

(It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)

literally just chugging along with a laptop and Microsoft Word over here, ya bitch is basic

6. A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story?

(It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law etc)

I think the portrayal of ghosts in The Keeper of Lonely Spirits is pretty unique? I don't remember how I came up with it at all. I like it though

7. What piece of advice would you say to encourage others to write if they are having a rough patch?

I would always remind other writers (and all creatives) that it is GOOD AND NECESSARY to take breaks sometimes. it doesn't make you less of a creator, even if the break stretches on for years. it doesn't make you a bad creator. it's literally necessary, for multiple reasons. it's okay to take breaks. please take breaks.

nonobligatory tag for @victoriacbooks and @cassbeewrites

[taraljc]

I forgot how much the final season of Continuum really does not hold up to the rest of the show. But I feel particularly bad for Kellog, because they sort of shoehorned him into the position of bad guy and that never really fit for me I guess? just in terms of characterisation. I mean yes he was always out for himself, but he was also genuinely kind (if in a self-serving way) and so him suddenly stabbing people and shooting people just felt very non-Matthew Kellog to me.

That said, I really love Garza all the way through. Jasmine may well be my favourite. actually I ended up really loving all of the liber8 guys, although Chen got shafted by the shortened final season the most I think because his character is a pod person all the way through, and they never did explain why Lucas started hallucinating out of nowhere and then was miraculously fine. something tells me temporal displacement was something they had planned on following up on and then with the reduced run order on s4 it just fell by the wayside.

I do kind of like the idea that since it this was a completely new future that there are new 2077 versions of all of the liber8 folks wandering around not knowing that they had alternate lives. so the idea of Keira's sister and potentially Kellog's sister both being alive makes me happy.

Although there are still pieces that never quite fit that I'm going to have to go figure out. I was under the impression that Sonya recruited Travis but then we had that flashback episode where Travis visited his wife and daughter and he was already in liber8. and I still never understood why Kiera hooked her CMR up to Alec's system after she came back to 2014 from the collapsed timeline. at first I thought it was because she had hidden the time ball and was going to erase where she had hidden it from her own memory but then that made no sense?

I think they're a lot of bits and pieces of a show that don't quite fit together, but I did still really enjoy rewatching. and I liked Brad much better second time around. I remember the first time being sort of like why???? and the not a finale where everybody goes off and lives in the woods was very odd.

I think Erik Knudsen probably had the most fun out of the entire cast because he got to play two versions of his character and really go all out with the freaking crazy evil mastermind side of Alec.

I will say that the one group dinner in Evil Alec's condo was kind of a high point even if that is when Emily / Maya decided that she needed to take herself off the board. This show went through some crazy sets. like usually you have a couple of standing sets that you have for the whole show, but they were all over the place. and I never did understand if Marc Sadler/Escher came from the future or was actually from the 20th century.

[thelightningthatjumpsbetween]

Twenty

RE8 | Wintersberg | Romance, Slow Burn | Action, Sci-Fi

Sequel of Winters and the Beast, a Resident Evil: Village Story

Table Of Contents

Ethan's Journal

August 31

Today started off by getting stabbed by someone who looked almost identical to Karl.  Turns out it was his identical twin.  What I don’t understand is what he said when he stabbed me.  Who tells somebody “Don’t cave” and then stabs them?? 

The good news is that I healed fast…we have time to figure out how to help the Mutamycete without sending Eva back. 

I do feel pain around where the wound was, but hopefully that will go away soon too. Eva says I might be healing fast because I know how to ‘focus’ on healing now.  

Karl has been with Donna most of the day.  It was weird how she just randomly started remembering her life, and it happened faster than mine did.  Karl has been sad all day too, but he won’t say much–Typical.  At least Rose is in a good mood!  We played outside until the storm clouds showed up.  And now I’ve been sorting through the things we got in the mail.  It’s nice to have a break from thinking about “Mold stuff”. 

Then around 5, we got more visitors.  Maricara, Alina, and Lidia!  It is so great to see them.  They haven’t stopped by since Rose’s party.  Maricara said that the Duke was in their village to trade, and told her about Donna.  She came with a basket of fabric, a big sewing kit and a bunch of supplies. I guess they’re going to try to help Donna with some project.  Maricara knew her real mom so Donna has someone to talk to about her family.  They’re the best kind of people.  I offered them all their old rooms upstairs, they’re going to stay for the weekend.  

So even though the day started out pretty bad, it’s looking up. Let’s hope it stays that way.  

Karl and I are going to the field tonight. I'm happy that he’s finally on board with confronting Miranda even if we’re not ready to fight her yet.  She can’t come into this world and I believe Godric when he says she can’t take Rose either. All I can hope is that Karl gets answers about his brother.  I’ve never seen him so agitated, unless you count after I killed “Sturm” …he was pretty mad, but that was nothing compared to this.  I’m a little nervous about seeing Mia…if she knew Miranda all those years ago, maybe Miranda did something with her identity too?  It turns my stomach to think about, but I need to know….I’m tired of not knowing things.  

Ethan rubbed his eyes and stared at the journal entry.  The intense eyes of the Heisenberg twin, moved onto paper by way of his pencil, glared up at him, and he closed the leather-bound book.  With a sigh he stared out the window at the mostly grey sky; stars were out already, and clouds moved quickly underneath them.  Thunder had rumbled most of the afternoon, but no rain yet fell.  As Ethan watched, lightning flickered across the valley that once-was Heisenberg’s Factory, below the cliffs.  

Were they crazy to go down there?  They’d discussed where specifically to venture–Heisenberg’s idea was over the obliterated ceremony site.  Not only was it over the original location of Miranda’s lab, it was where the Mutamycete had lived before Chris’s explosives.  Since its regrowth, the central nervous system of the Mold was now away from that site.  But if any of the underground cavern systems remained–Heisenberg swore that he could sense them with his powers-then the Mold itself was powerful in that area.  Eva had agreed with this.  

It wasn’t a bad idea, but Ethan was even less enthused about going back there than he had been to go to Dimitrescu’s castle.  It was, in a sense, Ethan’s death place.  Well…one of them?  He wondered if Miranda would be able to manifest there in different ways, if the Mold would help her.  It seemed to in the past, even with Eva and Rose working against her.  

The office door opened and Eva entered, looking particularly solemn.  Ethan turned his gaze from the brewing storm, and managed a faint smile for his friend.  

“Rose having fun seeing her friends?” 

“She is,” Eva said with a grin, “But I believe Maricara is the most happy.  She says Rose will say her name soon.” 

“That’s a lot of syllables even for me,” Ethan protested, stretching at the desk.  As he moved to push the seat back, Eva stayed him with a hand, and then pulled a stool away from the wall, to sit next to him.  

“I need to tell you something.”  She had papers in her hand–Ada’s research, he could see. 

“Okay.”  Ethan raised an eyebrow.  “You’re sitting down.  That means…?”

“It means it is important,” Eva said with a heavy breath.  “Not bad.  Yes?  Just…important.” 

“Is it about Karl?  Is he okay?” 

“He is fine.  I think it is about all of us,” she said, tilting her head as if she were uncertain.  “He read this first, while Donna slept and he stayed to watch over her.  He wanted me to make you aware of it as soon as possible.” 

“Why couldn’t he?”

Eva scratched her hair awkwardly.  “I do not think he is in a mood to talk much.” 

“Fair enough.”  Ethan had worked for months to get the reclusive engineer to talk in the first place, and most of what Ethan knew about Heisenberg’s past came from accidentally stepping into the other man’s thoughts and mind.  And now Heisenberg was handing off important information through Eva.  The blond massaged his temple, wishing there was more that he could do, but he finally leaned back in the leather chair.  “All right, hit me.” 

Eva’s confused stare reminded him that she’d not been in a human world for many years.  

“I mean….show me what you’ve got.” 

The blond woman thumbed through papers, moving to a paragraph with sloppily made notations beside it, slashed in red pen.  Heisenberg. 

Ethan abruptly made a noise and held up his hand.  “Wait.  This isn’t…your….mother’s writing, is it?”

“No, it is from the biologists in Ada’s organization.  She translated it for added security.”  Eva tapped the paperwork. “They seem to be simply trying to understand the Mold, rather than using it for weapons.  Although the same cannot be said for other, adjacent organizations.” 

“Right.” 

She began to read aloud, impressively translating the German to English as she went.  

“...Questions arise then as to the sentience of the Mold itself.  If considering the widely accepted model of consciousness which suggests that sentience and awareness are broadly grounded in the biology of the cell, it becomes obvious that firstly, the Mold is keenly aware of its environment.  It is very much like other fungi when mapping: its mycelium expands, detects the physical structure of its surroundings and responds to the availability of food and the presence of other organisms. The overall pattern of branching is determined by the genetic code, but the exact positions of each branch are dictated by the character of the environment. 

For this reason, the shape of each colony is never reproduced. The individual fungus is unique, much like how no two humans are exactly alike.  As this organism’s basis for operation, its “fungal brain”, has obviously imitated the human brain network, this calls defensive and survival mechanistics into question.  

Pathogenic fungal mycelia such as this mold and many others respond to their environment when they invade a host. Species which target humans have been shown to modify their growth form to become more invasive as the infection develops. These responses are genetically programmed and not learned behaviors, but the mold is able to grasp things about its environment and show that it learns.  

This leads to our report result: 

We have concluded that this Mold affects its hosts emotionally. 

Nowhere is this more obvious and evident than in witnessing behavior of its hosts after infection.  Many subjects have been mapped and their behavior studied by psychologists with all results leading back to the concept that the Mold influences its hosts’ decisions for its own survival. (like any parasite)

See attached reports from psychiatrists for more information on data gathered and how it is quantified.  

In mammal studies, including infected wildlife but most notably, infected humans, the Mold implants a strong desire for family into the host’s mind.  This manifests differently for every person affected based on the host’s pre-existing experiences and beliefs about family, but it…” 

Eva’s lip was trembling and Ethan stared past her toward a far bookshelf, his own eyes glassed over, as her first tears began to fall.  Exhaling and steeling herself she continued reading, but her voice was very much affected.  

“It is clearly part of the organism’s learned mechanism for survival.  If a candidate has, as two examples: a pre-existing yearning for family or, no close family relationships, the Mold’s influence can cause behaviors that are erratic, toxic, or even self-harming.  The host is not experiencing mental illness, rather, they are responding to the signals from the parasite to get, and keep, a family close.  This usually leads to behavior patterns that do not match the host’s personality–interviewed infected persons have stated during these ‘crises’ they felt no control over themselves or their desires.  

For notes on extreme examples of this manifestation, see examples ‘Connections E Series’ and ‘Romania - Miranda.’ 

In other subjects, who did have positive family connections, the bond between those family members was strengthened universally.   The Mold rewards positive behaviors and emotions much like a human brain, and hosts report feeling satisfied when they are with their families or loved ones–even reporting feelings of bliss or euphoria when an entire family network is infected.  

In case studies where one member of the family was given a healing serum, removing the mold from their body temporarily, the other family members became combative and tried removing the patient from the room even though no danger to the host existed.  They become overprotective, anxious, and feel negative emotions for any threat and often manifest as overprotective family members.    

It is likely that hosts who manifest this type of protectiveness would have unmatched resilience when a family member is in danger.  We have documented animals with this protectiveness: an entire pack of infected wolves mourn the deaths of its elder members, showing symptoms of depression for months, and an infected murder of crows were witnessed having funeral ceremonies and mourning together after a death of one of their own.  Both communities of mammals had intense aggression when approached by outsiders.    

For notes on extreme examples of this manifestation, see example ‘Dulvey - Ethan Winters.’” 

The papers were thrown down onto Ethan’s desk, and Eva cautiously wiped her eyes, trying to judge the other blond’s reaction.  He was massaging the bridge between his eyes, his teeth bared as the information sank in.  Ethan’s hand dropped from his eyes down to his mouth and he stroked the dark stubble there. He stared at Eva, cupping his own chin. 

“So I’m not even me, really.  I just…” He shrugged, his voice hollow.  “I’m just…..a psycho dad because of the Mold.” 

“No,” Eva argued sternly.  Likely, she had been anticipating this response.  “You are still you.  The Mold affects everyone differently.  What it has done is amplify your pre-existing feelings about family.  It has propelled you when you needed it, to save your daughter.”  Eva’s fingers brushed his knee.  “Everything you have done is because you are noble, Ethan, and brave.  This doesn’t change that.” 

He frowned at the compliment.   “But this means that all of us…every single person…is doing whatever we can to what?  Seek family?  Be a part of a family?”

She was silent, biting her lip and then lifting a hand to her own chin as he’d done.  

“I suppose so, or at least, subconsciously, in ways.” 

“So…Miranda slaughtered a bunch of innocent people by turning this into a fucked up experiment for one person’s life…Eveline had Jack doing her dirty work of trying to create infected people to expand her own network….Mia, what?  What did it make her do?” 

“I don’t know Mia very well,” Eva admitted, “But from what I understand, she tried very hard to stay in her marriage with you, hiding things from you and trying desperately to make things appear stable and make you happy.  Could you see how that would benefit her, as a host, responding to these feelings, the need to…keep her family together?  On top of the love that she had for you?”

Ethan sighed, but he was still too in-shock to produce tears or outrage.  Instead he gripped the sides of the large leather armchair, and planted his feet on the ground.  

“I’m not even a person at all.  Nothing I do is even me.  Are any of my feelings real?”

“They are all real!  Ethan, you are not listening.” 

“Oh, I’m listening, I even made it as aggressive dad footnote in their article.”  When he threw his head back, closing his eyes, Ethan mused aloud, “Guess this explains the Lords.  Donna needed a million terrifying dolls to keep her company.  Moreau obsessed over Miranda.  And even Lady Dimitrescu and her monster daughters.  The Mold just wants us all to be one big happy family.” 

It had begun to rain.  What was usually a comforting sound now filled his heart with sorrow.   He remembered Godric’s words.  Sorrow will find you. 

He wasn’t trying to avoid it or anything, but damn it sure seemed to seek him out, didn’t it?  Eva looked heartbroken, and he met her eyes for the first time, happy to listen to her, instead of his own cynical thoughts.  

“I could almost forgive my mother, knowing that her grief was transformed into something that would benefit the entire organism.  Almost.  But what she has done is turn this survival mechanism, which could have been something so lovely, like the love you showed in protecting your daughter, into something horrific.”  

Hearing Eva speak so sadly about her own mother caused Ethan to put aside his feelings; he didn’t have feelings, actually–he was numb, from his head down to his feet, he could feel nothing.  It was the type of news that made one go blank, disconnected immediately, just like he’d done when Eveline first told him he was made out of mold. 

Even in a moment where his own distraught grief eluded him and he turned into a barely existing shell of a person, he had compassion.  Ethan stood and pulled Eva into a hug.  She soon burst into tears, sobbing onto his chest, and he hugged her harder, planting his chin onto the shorter blond’s head. From the hallway of the second floor, he could hear more sobs, likely Donna.  

The house would have made a good haunted attraction today, what with all the wailing.   And Karl’s loud Frankenstein-boot stomping.  Ethan smiled to himself, and then Eva ended up laughing through her sobs, choking as she fought to control the laugh.

“You weren’t supposed to hear that thought,” he said quietly, smiling against her cornsilk hair.  “Eva, it’s gonna be okay.” 

She laughed more, and then sighed as she pulled away, wiping tears again.  “Thank you, Ethan.” 

“Thank you for dropping the bomb, I guess.”  He sank back into his chair as she turned to leave.  “How did Karl feel about it?” 

Eva paused at the door, keeping it closed.  

“He didn’t say much, but I think he is happy to have some answers about the others in the village–their devotion to the religion.  Perhaps he also has answers about his own resistance to the pull of family.” 

“Yeah, why would he have that resistance?  What made him different?” 

Eva frowned, and finally turned back to Ethan.  “It is not my place to say more, but Heisenberg has always been protected.  By someone out of the reach of the Mold.  A true family member, which has…perhaps…overridden the commitment that Miranda put inside him when she infected him.  I think he has always believed his father and brother were also protected, immune.  Knowing that at least his brother is not, is devastating to him.”  

His mother.  

Ethan hadn’t said it aloud, but Eva nodded anyway.  

Ethan remembered the vision of Heisenberg’s, the pitiful and yet horrific creature strung up on pulleys-that looked dead but was not afforded that luxury.  That was the source of Heisenberg’s protection, his link to true family?  It was nightmarish.  How could Heisenberg have any solace at all?  Then again, maybe he didn’t.     

He chewed on his lip, and then waved at Eva.  “Get some sleep.” 

“Be careful tonight,” she warned.  “I know you don't need to hear it...and I already told Karl....Not all answers are comforting.”  

[natasha-in-space]

Hi Mia, I know I am an anonymous stranger asking you this so if you'd rather not answer feel free to delete

I wanted to ask, what was it like right after dropping out of college? What did you do afterwards?

It's no problem at all, anon! I've kinda talked about it in my tags from time to time, so it's not something I'm particularly ashamed of. (usually that is)

And, uh.... fair warning, this is gonna get kind of dark and probably a bit depressing. I do occasionally mention my experiences on here in passing, but I tend to not talk about them in depth. So... kind of a CW for talks of past child abuse (I don't go in depth but it's implied) and severe mental health issues.

So, thing is, I was kind of forced to drop out. Though it was still technically my choice. But, at the same time, I don't think I had much of a choice, if that makes sense. As a teen, I hated school, and while I was a what you would call a 'gifted kid', adored by teachers and envied by classmates, I didn't put much effort or passion into my studies. I did finish school with pretty good grades, though. Got into college. It was there when I actually started to enjoy the process of learning and education as a whole. I went from being a pretty good student to quite literally one of the best once I started actually putting in the effort to study instead of just winging it by as I did before that.

But I also started off my independent life when I was in college. It should have been a good thing. And it was a good thing. (You're gonna hear lots of contradicting statements here, and that's something I had to accept). I finally got out of the abusive environment I've spent my entire life in. But, thing is, I learned the hard way that just getting out is not enough to actually get better. Once I was out, finally safe and free to do whatever I want with no danger or restrictions, I paradoxically fell into the darkest mental space I've ever been in. Now that I'm older, I know that it's unfortunately normal for abuse survivors. But I didn't back then. I had no friends because I used to be an anxious, traumatized teenager with undiagnosed autism who had no idea how to socialize, nor did she really want to. And I never got to grow out of that, despite now being an adult, living on my own and making my own choices. Thus, came the consequences of my antisocial lifestyle up until that point. I had no one to talk to. No one to help me out with the groceries, studies, anything really. I was completely and utterly on my own, and before that, I thought that that's the way I want to be.

But I felt lost, lonely, and depressed. It got so bad that I would sometimes spend an entire day stuck in bed, not doing anything, including eating, brushing my teeth or changing clothes. Basically, depression in its clearest. Like I said, I didn't have a support system. I was on my own, and it's kind of my own fault that it got like this. Yes, I was hurt and traumatized, but I was also highly avoidant and distant from everyone, even those who genuinely had good intentions. I still deal with my avoidant attachment style up to this day, because I know it's not healthy.

I had the 'everyone will hurt me, no one will understand me, so I'm safest by myself' mentality. Don't do that. Isolating yourself like that will only make it worse. Had to learn that the hard way.

Long story short, I dropped out. I couldn't handle studying, and I needed help. I wasn't attending my classes, I had no motivation to even make myself food, much less study, and I lost all sense of hope for the future. Was I happy with my choice? No, I was heartbroken over it. I felt like a failure. I still do, honestly. Most people my age have at least one degree, some even more. They have friends and connections they've made in college. Experiences I never got to have, and probably never will, because I am not getting younger. Some have successful careers that I am amazed by. Some married and even had kids. Meanwhile, I'm still stuck figuring myself out, without much to my name. Because I never really got to grow up. It's hard not to feel like I'm missing out. But I try not to think about it.

I went into therapy, I slowly but surely have gotten better. It was a long process. I've stumbled and given up many times. Unpacking all of my trauma and how it effected me into adulthood was debilitating and painful. You have to deal with the fact that you were robbed of the chance to have a normal, happy life, and you can't do anything about it. There was some morbid comfort in thinking that 'there is something wrong with me'. It gave me a sense of control. If it's my fault I felt useless and unmotivated, then I could fix it. Even if I never actually did that. But accepting that all of this misery is actually a consequence of someone else's actions that have hurt you this deeply... it makes you feel helpless and angry. Like there is nothing you can do.

But it does get better. Doesn't get perfect. I still have bad days, and I still feel pretty lost in life, to be honest. I have no idea what I want to do. Nor do I have any plans for the future. But I do want to go to college one day. I love learning and I enjoy challenging my brain with new tasks to try and overcome. I would do that right now, if it wasn't as expensive as it is. I cannot afford higher education. I would risk it and take out a loan if I had confidence that I will be able to get a job and pay it off after getting my degree. But I don't. Because tons of folks with degrees cannot find a job for months on end, and I see how miserable it makes them. And I'd much rather have some stability in my life.

I got a job that I actually find joy in, though I don't think I'll be doing that for the rest of my life. I got a lovely circle of friends that I can rely on. I got a creative hobby there to keep me happy. It's not ideal, but I'm content with my life, and sometimes I'm even happy. I have no idea what the future will bring, but, honestly, I'd much rather focus on today and now.

I guess that's all to say that... dropping out is not always pretty and freeing. Then again, there's a difference between dropping out because you have no further intention to continue your studies, and dropping out due to circumstances out of your control. But it's not the end of the world. You stumble, you fall and you even regress, but you somehow get back up again. You find new things to do and enjoy. Life goes on. And it's still worth living for.