#it's such a bizarre mentality to me. such a waste of time

[virune]

one of the strangest parts of the sonic fandom to me is the people who just seem to hate everything about it. it's fair to criticise things and have parts of the series you don't enjoy, but the constant complaining about every new thing that comes out seems so. exhausting. i dunno man, maybe it's just not for you anymore? maybe you could go and find something else you like better, something a little less flawed in your eyes? if you genuinely don't like how the show's being run, why are you still sitting in the audience?

[monayen]

Ouuu maybe something where Sebastian finally snaps ( ´ ▽ ` )

there is like no fics about him x reader!

Hungry | Sebastian

➷ Paring - Sebastian x Fem!Reader [Randal's Friends / Ranfren]

➷ CWs - Noncon, fingering, choking, breath play, rough, mental break, unsafe sex

a/n - sometimes it hits me that im writing freakiness with a character who has de tomato smith chicken legs in his name. yes i'm still writing... inbox open for any requests or ideas, i love to see them still :3 (oh and if you like charlie from smiling friends i have a fic uploaded on my ao3)

Sebastian doesn't know how long it's been since he's had a good meal. His stomach aches for something delicious, and he can feel how his body slightly trembles at the growing malnutrition.

He's gotten used to a lot of things since his “adoption”, but hunger isn't one of them. The mush Randal attempts to give is questionably edible (and probably not safe for the human body) and Luther believes a “sustainable” mixture of bland, flavorless ingredients is enough to satiate.

The pressure in his head can also be accredited to Randal’s voice. He's lost track of what he's rambling about today. Something about ghosts, he deduces, and he much prefers not to listen. He just wants to go to sleep, he really does, but his throat itches and he's reminded that Randal has neglected once again to refill his water bowl. 

“Can I, uh, get some water?” Sebastian asks, interrupting the trainwreck-train of thought spewing out of Randal’s mouth. “I thought you got water like three days ago! You thirsty boy.” Randal cocks his head to the side and Sebastian can only sigh in response.

“I need it every day. Food and water every day.” It's fruitless to try to get him to remember, but his lightheadedness is getting worse, and he just wants to be properly taken care of. 

Randal shrugs, turning his focus to one of his dolls, tugging at the flimsy cloth arm before it completely rips off. A dark, small thing crawls out of the fluff, and immediately scampers into a vent in Randal’s room. He doesn't note it and tosses the torn doll to a shadowy corner in his room, probably not to be seen again.

“Eh, go ask someone else.”

Sebastian doesn't waste time to exit the room, already cycling to the next person who could actually listen to him. He grits, the ache growing in his stomach and head becoming almost unbearable. 

He just needs to find you, which… he doesn't actually know where you are. As much as he’s tried to understand this house, it's complicated and confusing. It brings him back to his thoughts of you. 

You're everything this house isn't.

You’ve been here longer than him, listed as one of Luther’s pets. However, you’ve seemed to actually gain some independence from that. Different from the adherents that are Nyen and Nyon, instead being more akin to a housemate. 

You also don't seem to have any of the… oddities that everyone else has. No crude whiskers or unblinking eyes. You’re allowed your own wardrobe, nothing like the frills and puffs he has to wear. It's almost taunting how pretty and kempt you are.

It’s actually a bit interesting how Luther could allow this, but he assumes you pull your own weight enough to be well fed and unbothered. Sebastian scoffs, how fortunate is that?

Both of you haven't actually interacted that much, and it only serves to add to that untouchable status he's framed around you.

You are in your own world, independent and capable of leaving. But you don't. You continue to stay and wander around the house without a care. While Sebastian is stuck as a poor entertainer at for a bizarre young man, scrambling for any chance of freedom.

Despite this, you don't actually torment him in any way that matters. His envy does run deep, but you're the closest thing to a saving grace right now. He knows the catmen don't really care, and Luther might just shoo him away like the nuisance he is.

Finally, after checking room after room, he spots you sitting on a vintage leather couch with an unmarked book resting on your lap that definitely would be hard to read with how dim the lights are. 

He hovers in the doorway, unsure how to start a conversation. His eyes also don't know where exactly to look, do you realize your skirt is riding up?

You beat him to say something, looking up at him through your lashes, “Hi Sebastian. Do you need something?”

You're as courteous as ever, offering a small smile that doesn't help at all to calm Sebastian’s nerves. 

“Do you have anything to eat?”

You set aside your book and give him a look he can't place. Now up and off your seat to get closer to him, he can see how your brows furrow and lips purse. Suddenly, soft hands grip at the side of his face, and he stammers reactively.

“God, you look terrible. You poor thing.” It comes out sickly sweet, the proximity only heightening the warmth spreading over his freckled face. 

“I–I know…” He sighs, not moving from your touch, “Please, can you just feed me?” 

It sounds pathetic, but at this point he's practically begging for something, anything from you. He relaxes when he hears you giggle, hands leaving his face. 

He sees you walk over to the nightstand drawer beside the couch, rummaging through it before pulling out… a stick of jerky and a juice-pouch, setting it on top in all it's glory.

It isn't much, but it's enough for Sebastian to practically salivate and let out a sound of relief. It could be stale for all he cares, as long as he can taste the added sugar and salt, he’s happy. He almost wants to jump into your arms and thank you.

“Ah, that's perfect–”

You cut him off, a smile planted on your face, “What are you going to do for it?” 

It catches Sebastian completely off guard, mouth agape, “What?” 

You don't falter at all, sitting on the couch as you stare at Sebastian’s shaking figure, “C’mon, you play with Randal all the time, don't you? How about we play something?” 

Sebastian doesn't know how to respond. He's tired, hungry, and growing frustrated. Your voice stays sweet and it provokes a realization, how stupid is it to think you of all people could give him some slack? You aren't any different than the rest of these weirdos, no matter how you hold yourself. 

His stomach growls on cue, and Sebastian can't seem to shake this feverish feeling anymore.

You notice the lack of a response, his face shaded by the dim lighting. Deciding to only poke him further, “...Unless, you aren't really that hungry.”

You don't realize how his fists ball on the side of him, teeth slightly gritting to push out his words, “Just give it.” 

A small laugh leaves your grinning mouth, teasing and like nails on a chalkboard to Sebastian’s ears, “Ooo,” You sing, “feisty!” 

Sebastian’s nostrils flare for a second, seemingly thinking something. He’s red, and his lips tremble ever so slightly. You stare intensely as he pauses and huffs before making his way towards the nightstand. 

“Another time.” He simply states, an unrecognizable irk coating his words. You don't allow this, grabbing his arm as he reaches out for the food.

“I said,” The same saccharine smile stays across your face, “what are you going to do for it?

A switch almost seems to flip in Sebastian’s brain. You don't get to comment on the deep redness that adorns his cheeks, before he suddenly grips you by your shoulders and pins you down on the couch.

Yelping, you trash against his grasp as he hovers over you. He's breathing heavily, his chest drumming up and down as you push your hands against it.

“W-wait!” Sebastian doesn't care about what you have to say. It's all stupid words, stupid words out of your pretty mouth. His head is still reeling, and he doesn't know where the strength to keep you down is coming from.

All he knows is that he's the one with control right now. Something he hasn't had for a long time.

“Stop moving!” He huffs, eyes wide as he grasps the bottom of your shirt and bra, flipping it up to expose you.

His movements are almost thoughtless, as if a ghost possessed him to cup your breast and snake fingers between your thighs. Thoughtless doesn't make it any less rough, and soon enough your bottom half is exposed too.

“Listen, Sebastian, you– you can just have it! I was only messing around!” You try to excuse yourself, but his hand remains groping at your body like you're the first soft thing he's had to hold in forever.  As if you're going to be ripped away from his hands at any second. 

His erection pokes at your pinned down hip, the fabric of his outfit practically straining him. “I don't listen to you.” Sebastian spits, nor loud or quiet. 

It's directly for you to hear.

More words sprew from his mouth. “You think you can just taunt me? Mess with me? Like everyone else?” They come out faster than you can respond, jaw hanging open to croak out any excuse. 

“Shut up, I don't wanna hear it.” He suddenly moves and flips you over onto your stomach, head pressed down onto the aged leather of the couch, hands forced behind your back.

“I need this.” Those words are whispered to himself, low and dark. If you could look at him directly in the face, you’d see the cloudy look overcasting his eyes, the sweat that builds on his forehead, and the furrow of his brows as he looks at your figure. The dim room isn't enough to hide you.

All you can see is leather and flipped strands of hair in your vision. Instead you can only focus on the sound of his deep, shaky breath. Along with the sound of him shuffling to remove his own clothes. He moves on top of you, lanky body pressing against your behind, practically caging you. So close that it's hard to thrash around. And even if you could, you'd only be pushing up against him more.

You gasp when he puts his skinny fingers between your thighs, spreading you apart with a swift motion. Sebastian doesn't waste any time in pushing his fingers inside of you, hunched over as he continues to whisper to himself.

The pounding of your heart is loud in your own ears, you're sure he can hear how it patters against the couch more when he decides to curl his fingers. You whine, almost unintentionally arching at how good it shouldn't feel. But it does, and he knows because he lets out a laugh, “You like this?” It sounds both mocking and genuine.

The leather muffles you, but you manage to moan out a “No–” to which Sebastian seethes at. He leans into your ear, fingers still pumping into your heat. “Don’t lie. You– you wouldn't be this wet if you didn't.” 

You’re unsure if Sebastian is trying to convince himself or you. The slight waver in his voice pairs with the hastiness of his fingers, itching to draw out more moans from your mouth. It’s impossible to ignore the several digits Sebastian pumps into you, him noticing how your thighs begin to quake and muscles tighten around his fingers. As quickly you're brought to the edge, Sebastian retracts. You whine at the now empty sensation, practically huffing like a brat. You don't even realize. Now his hand grips at your side of your hips, your own wetness uncomfortable on your skin. 

“Maybe you’ll like this more.” Sebastian whispers, prodding at your entrance with this length. It’s hard to speak with how he continues to push your head down into the cushion, though any denial would fall on deaf ears even if you could. He slips in too easily, practically bottoming out the second your tightness wraps around him.

Sebastian is all too loud, words and moans mixing into pure nonsense. You wonder why nobody has heard anything yet. The door isn’t even locked. He doesn't care at all it seems, too engrossed in the feeling inside you to even consider the consequences of being caught. 

Sebastian’s hand on the back of your head releases, and you think maybe he’ll let you turn. Maybe you’ll actually be able to scream properly for Luther with air properly filling your lungs and mouth not pressed against leather. He isn’t slowing down at all though, his hips snapping roughly against your ass. A hand snakes around the back of your throat and squeezes, your heart dropping at the growing pressure on your windpipes. 

Sebastian's grip on your throat tightens, the need to claim something, anything, overtaking him. He's spent. He's so close, and he's not about to stop now. He's on the brink, and the feeling of you tightening around him, the way you're almost helpless under him, only serves to push him further.

You can't breathe, your eyes widening frantically, and the only thing you can manage to do is grip the couch. The lack of air is making your vision blur as Sebastian continues to thrust into you, not seeming to notice or care. Your mind begins to swim, the dim room now spinning in your vision.

It's a terrifyingly intense sensation, being so close to the edge yet being choked, the mix of pleasure and pain leaving you feeling dizzy. Your body betrays you, arching and pulsating at the rapid thrusts. Croaking out whatever air left in your lungs, you come with a shudder, your muscles gripping Sebastian’s cock as he continues to pound into you.

Sebastian follows with a guttural moan, thrusts becoming more erratic as he reaches his own climax, shooting into you. The hand around your throat tightens momentarily, before finally releasing, sending you gasping for air. He practically collapses on top of you, his own breath heavy. 

He still holds you against the couch, though you wouldn't have the strength to move him to begin with. You feel the shuffle of him getting off on top of you, finally pulling out with a small groan and letting you at least get onto your side. He now lays beside you, body wrapped over yours. The couch barely fits you both, all you can feel is the heat of both your bodies and the sensation of wetness dripping between your thighs. 

Sebastian nuzzles against you like a baby. He looks exhausted, eyes shut and brows furrowed. You look to find any empathy—any guilt. It isn't there. If anything, he looks content. As if you both will stay like this forever. 

“You're right.” He murmurs, a soft rasp in his voice you aren't used to. “I’m not hungry anymore.”

[ilovetheriddler]

The Enigma of Love.

(Gotham) Edward Nygma x F!Reader.

Chapter One.

Word Count: 1,737.

Contents: A bit of backstory, you and Edward meet for the first time.

You're in a dark room, the only source of light being the walls illuminated by green tinted question marks. There's a faint Cedar wood smell lingering in the air. Pieces of paper lay at your feet, riddles scrawled all over them. You reach down to pick one up and read it.

"I hurt the most when lost, yet also when not had at all. I'm sometimes the hardest to express, but the easiest to ignore. I can be given to many, or just one. What am i?"

You jolted awake with the sudden sound of your alarm. It was just another weird dream... You had been having that specific one though for a while now, and you often wondered what was causing it. Was it a result of stress? Perhaps because of your worries about your mother recently? She was sick after all. And what was with that bizarre riddle? Every time you had the dream, it was exactly the same. You ultimately decided that you couldn't waste any time today dwelling on it. Not right now, at least.

You rubbed the remnants of sleep from your eyes before you glanced over at your alarm clock. 8:00 am.... wait, 8:00 am?! You were supposed to be at work at 7:00, oh God, you could only hope that maybe your boss wouldn't be too harsh with you over this, after all you've never been late before now.

You quickly scrambled out of bed and made your way to the bathroom, turning on the sink and splashing some water on your face. You hopped in the shower and washed up as fast as you possibly could before getting dressed. You made sure you had everything and also grabbed something to eat quickly before you left to head to your place of employment. The Gotham City public library.

Not too many people frequented the library, which you didn't exactly mind. It made it a fairly quiet and peaceful place to work, which was rare in a place like Gotham. You first got this job a few months ago, mainly to help pay for your mother's hospital bills, which just seemed to increase every time you closed your eyes.

You felt like it was your responsibility to help her out in any way that you feasibly could. After all, it wasn't like your father would help. In fact, you weren't even sure if he was still living in Gotham. You haven't seen him since he walked out on you and your mother when you were six. You were twenty-three now, so it was close to almost two decades ago. You tried not to waste energy thinking of him over the years. You had your mother who was always there for you, and that was all the family you needed.

You always knew and understood how difficult it was for her to raise you as a single mother, but she truly always put every ounce of energy and time she had into making sure that you were happy, safe, and felt loved. Even if she wasn't always around since she worked two jobs just to support the two of you. Maybe that was why it weighed on you so heavily that she was now in the hospital. It wasn't fair. She spent all those years running herself into the ground for you. She deserved to be able to spend her time now relaxing, perhaps traveling even. But it seemed the universe and its cruel sense of humor had other plans, and that tore you apart every night.

You snapped out of your intense train of thought as you finally arrived at the library. You mentally prepared yourself to be chewed out by your boss but were surprised when you walked in only to realize that she wasn't there. You walked over to your coworker, who was organizing some of the books back onto the shelves.

"Morning Ashley, have you seen Mrs Jones around today?"

Ashley, who was only a few years older than you were, sighed, pushing some of her longer black hair out of her face. She turned to look at you before answering.

"No, she had to call in today. Apparently, she caught that flu that's been going around lately.... you're late though, let me guess, you overslept?"

"... Yeah... I um... apologize for being so late..."

"It's alright, I genuinely don't care that you're late. You still showed up, and this place is always practically a ghost town anyway, so don't worry about it."

Your nerves calmed down at this. You didn't really know Ashley too well since you hadn't worked here long, and you two didn't really speak much, but she genuinely always seemed like a pretty cool person. She was actually Mrs Jones's granddaughter, which you thought was kind of interesting. You breathed out a relieved sigh.

"..Thanks... i was honestly worrying myself half to death over it on the way here."

She chuckled to herself slightly at your relieved state. Before offering you a bit more of reassure.

"You honestly shouldn't worry about it. You've been working here for like... what? Six months now? And you've only ever been late once? That's not too bad! My grandma is a pretty laid-back woman. She's not going to hold it against you."

"...I know she is.... I guess I just got a bit worked up for some reason..."

With that, you made your way over to the front desk and began updating the system with what needed to be changed and added. It was actually a bit more than you usually had to input as a result of the library getting an entire new shipment of books in today, which wasn't exactly a pleasant day for anyone. Ashley would be stuck reorganizing and adding new books to the shelves all day. You'd be stuck inputing all the new information into the database for hours on end, and your other coworker, Kevin, wouldn't actually do anything. Because he didn't show up again! You honestly sometimes wondered how he hadn't been fired yet. You're so deeply focused on your current task that you're startled by a sudden voice speaking to you.

"I'm made from trees and can bring people either incredible joy or intense sorrow. I can be short or long, big or small. It can take people a long time to create me or very little, depending on the person. What am i?"

You glanced up to see a fairly tall man. He had neatly kept short brown hair and rich brown eyes, which were framed by his black glasses that he adjusted slightly as he stood there. He had a somewhat goofy grin on his face, and you couldn't deny that he was definitely kind of attractive. His words finally fully dawned on you, and you were confused... was... he asking you a riddle of all things?

"I... I don't know, what is it?"

He set down a stack of books that he had in his arms on the counter in front of you. Before giving you the answer.

"A book! I um... I'd actually like to check these out... You know if um... it's not too much trouble, that is...?"

"Not at all! That's why I'm here, I just need to see your library card, and if you don't have one, then I'll have to sign you up for one."

He handed you his library card. After fumbling around his pocket for it. You take a quick look at it and can't help the smile that crosses your face. Edward Nygma... His name was similar to the word Enigma, and you found that kind of amusing. You pulled him up in the system and started looking through the books he's picked up. 1000 Riddles to stump your friends and colleagues! The history of puzzles. And the entire Sherlock Holmes collection.

"Quite the um... selection you have here... I'm going to take a wild guess and assume you like riddles and puzzles?"

"O-oh! Yes, I do enjoy them quite a lot...."

You finished up getting everything sorted out for him and handing him back the books. You give him a soft and kind smile.

"Well, I hope that you have an enjoyable day, Mr Nygma. And that you also find those books to be to your liking."

He seemed to get slightly flustered as he attempted to quickly stammer out a response.

"O-oh.. um.. i..I will! T-thank you miss!"

He left with his books, and you resumed the process of adding to the database. Thankfully, it ended up not taking as long as you thought it would. You noticed the time and realized that it was almost your lunch break, so you make your way to a place to sit down for a bit and eat the sandwich that you brought with you, because the only place really close to your place of employment was a fancy Cafe that sold their sandwiches for like 32.99 a sandwich, and that was highway robbery as far as you were concerned! You weren't paying that much for a damn sandwich when you could just make one at home and bring it with you, which is what you always did. You sometimes wondered how a place like that could even stay open in Gotham. Who the hell was paying for those sandwiches!?

You ultimately decided not to think about it, instead just focusing on your lunch. However, something caught your eye. It was a wallet setting on the counter. You put your sandwich down and walked over to look at it. It was a fairly nice material and had a green question mark on the front. You looked inside to try and find any id and immediately found it.

Edward Nygma. It was Edward Nygma's wallet. You sighed, you knew that he definitely needed this and thought for a moment whether he'd realize that he lost it and come back, or it you should pull up his profile in the database and call him to inform him. You ultimately decided that you should absolutely do the latter, only to realize that he didn't have a number listed. Damn it, that made this more difficult. You checked his wallet again and noticed something mentioning his place of employment.

You asked Ashley to cover for you while you were gone and started to make your way down to the GCPD.

[inevitablysomber-dark]

Under The Radar 3

Dark! Steve Roger x Kiwi! Reader

Dividers by @Strangergraphics

Warnings:

This story contains themes of emotional manipulation, power imbalance, dubious consent, toxic relationships, and psychological control. It deals with difficult subjects such as forced dependency and mental/emotional abuse. Reader discretion is advised.

Description: Kiwi thought she had her life under control—until a chance invitation to the Maldives from her former friend pulls her into a web of manipulation and control. What starts as a luxurious vacation turns into a slow descent into captivity as Steve, the wealthy man funding her escape from reality, begins to tighten his grip on her life. Now trapped in a toxic relationship where affection becomes control, Kiwi must navigate a world where every decision is made for her, every boundary crossed, and escape seems impossible.

Is it too late to reclaim her freedom, or will she succumb to the life Steve has crafted for her?

Story Masterlist

I started to settle in more than I thought I would. The awkwardness from the first week wasn’t as obvious anymore. It didn’t happen overnight, but gradually, things started to feel less forced. Daily activities like yoga on the beach, lounging by the pool, and group dinners became easier. I found myself laughing more, sharing more, and getting used to the rhythm of this strange little bubble.

Sure, they were still spoiled rich kids, but there was more to them than I’d initially thought. While I wasn’t entirely convinced about Sharon and her sway over the group, it was becoming harder to see them solely as the superficial snobs I had first assumed them to be.

That morning, after yoga, I was ready to return to my room and have some alone time. But Steve wasn’t having it. “Why don’t you stay out here with us?” he asked, flashing me one of his playful grins. “Hang with the crew?”

Something in his voice made it clear it wasn’t really a suggestion, so I felt the need to give in and sat down on a couch in the living room. Steve wasted no time sliding into the seat beside mine, his leg pressing against mine. The closeness threw me off a little, but no one else seemed to notice or care.

I guess this was normal for them.

Sharon was still holed up in her room, recovering from whatever had her down. I worried for her but pushed it to the back of my mind. She had plenty of people to take care of her. I didn’t need to be that person.

To ease the awkwardness I felt from Steve sitting so close, I pulled out my phone and opened the book I’d downloaded the day before, hoping it would be a good distraction.

Steve glanced over his breath against my face. “Is that the book you were talking about?”

I blinked, a bit surprised he even remembered. “Yeah, this is it.”

“Nice,” he said, nodding approvingly before returning his attention to the TV. He casually placed his arm behind my head, resting it on the couch acting so casually.

I tried to focus on my book, but it was hard. Everyone was so nice and considerate of me, much different from when we were in university when they’d either be outright rude or ignore me. Despite everything, maybe this trip wasn’t so bad. Maybe I was just overthinking things.

Sharon was starting to act... off. By the middle of the second week, it was impossible not to notice. She was constantly tired, missing yoga three times a row, skipping meals, and staying shut in her room. For someone like Sharon, who thrived on being the center of attention and orchestrating everything, it was bizarre. And yet, she was barely keeping up with the group. 

One afternoon, we decided to keep it simple and go to a beach nearby. I had already gotten comfortable in the sand, watching Natasha and Pepper chat while Thor, Peter, and Bruce waded into the water. Tony opted to stay on the beach and tan. But Sharon kept to herself, not saying much. But when I looked at her, she was pale, and I could see the sweat collecting at her temples. Something wasn’t right.

She stood, aiming for the cooler, stumbling along the way. 

I stood up immediately, but she waved me off with a shaky hand. "I’m fine, just tired," she mumbled, but even from where I stood, it was clear she wasn’t. No one else moved to help her, not even Steve, who was just lounging, watching the scene unfold before him.

Seriously?

 I felt my frustration spike but now wasn’t the time. I didn't want to let her collapse on the beach. “Do you need to sit down?” I asked, catching her just as she was about to lose her balance completely.

Steve didn’t budge. He just kept lounging, watching with his casual look, before he got up and headed toward the water like everything was normal. I clenched my teeth but focused on Sharon. Whatever Steve’s deal was, it wasn’t helping right now.

“Come on, let’s get you back to the villa,” I said, looping my arm around her waist to support her. Sharon leaned into me, too weak to even protest. I glanced back a few times, hoping someone would come around to help, but no one did.

Back inside the villa, I helped Sharon sit down and grabbed her some water. She looked rough, her face flushed, and her eyes half-closed, as if she were fighting to stay conscious. She took small sips of the water, her embarrassment evident.

“Thanks,” she murmured, clearly not used to being this vulnerable. For a second, I saw something past the confident, borderline cruel persona she usually showed.

I nodded, not saying much. Despite everything between us, I wasn’t the type to let someone suffer, even if that someone was Sharon. 

“I’ll be fine,” she said after a while, waving her hand like she wanted me to go. But I didn’t leave right away. Something wasn’t right, and I wasn’t about to leave her alone, especially after Steve just... bailed.

 I sighed, sitting there with her, knowing I wouldn’t feel right unless I saw this through.

Sharon was getting worse, fast. I tried to get her to drink more water, but she barely sipped, her words coming out all slurred and jumbled. Panic crept up my spine as I watched her skin turn clammy. And then, without warning, her eyes fluttered shut, and she slumped forward, completely out.

My heart leaped into my throat. “Shit,” I whispered, bolting out of the room like my life depended on it. I practically sprinted toward the others by the shore.

"Sharon needs help! She needs a doctor!" I shouted, breathless, my voice shaky, as my lungs tried to keep up. 

Steve barely glanced up from where he was lounging. “Are you sure she’s not just being dramatic?” he asked, annoyed, like I was overreacting.

 I grabbed his hand and rushed him back to the villa without thinking. When he saw Sharon unconscious on the floor, his face went pale. "Oh shit."

 Finally. he rushed over to her, kneeling beside her, and placed his hand on her forehead. Bruce was close behind, calm as ever, entirely in control of the situation.

 Bruce crouched next to Sharon, checking her pulse like he’d done it a hundred times before. After what felt like an eternity, he looked up, his expression serious. “She’s severely dehydrated.”

 I shook my head, my chest tightening. “But she’s been drinking water. I’ve been making sure of it!” 

Bruce stayed focused on Sharon but nodded. “Her body’s not absorbing it. It could be heat exhaustion or something else. We need to get her fluids, fast.”

 Pepper was already on the phone with emergency services, and Bruce carefully turned Sharon onto her side, ensuring she stayed breathing.

 “We need to cool her down,” Bruce added, glancing at Steve. “Get some towels soaked in cold water. We’ve got to bring her temperature down.”

 Steve didn’t hesitate this time. He darted out, leaving me standing there, feeling completely useless. I hated being helpless and standing on the sidelines while everyone else knew what to do.

 Bruce glanced at me, his voice calm and steady. “Don’t worry. She’ll be fine once they get her some fluids.”

 I nodded, but the knot in my chest refused to loosen. I wasn’t going to relax until Sharon opened her eyes again.

 Sharon had been out cold for 16 hours straight. I stayed with her the entire time, only leaving once to shower quickly and change back at the villa. Steve was there, too, leaning against the wall. His usual laid-back attitude was gone, replaced with genuine concern, hopefully feeling guilty for ignoring Sharon's state.  

When Sharon finally stirred, her eyes fluttered open, and the first thing she saw was Steve. There was this glimmer in her eyes like his presence was some kind of comfort to her. But then she spotted me, and that glimmer quickly vanished, replaced with tears.

 Medical staff rushed in to check her vitals, making sure everything was stable, but her tears didn’t stop. She turned to me, her voice shaky and almost resentful. "This must make you happy."

 I blinked, completely thrown off. "What?" I asked, genuinely confused.

 "You…seeing me like this. It must make you happy," she repeated, her words cutting deeper than I expected.

 For a second, I didn’t even know how to respond. Was she serious? Then, as disbelief turned into frustration, I shook my head. "Never," I said more firmly than I intended. "Sharon, in all the years I’ve known you, I’ve only ever helped you. Every time." My voice softened a bit, but the truth in my words was undeniable. "You’re the one who’s thrived on watching me fall apart."

Sharon didn’t say anything for a while; she just stared at me with her lips pressed together like she wanted to argue, but something held her back. Finally, she sighed and sank back into her pillow.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, barely audible, but it was there, a reluctant kind of gratitude.

I nodded, but the air between us was thick, the tension still hanging. "You're welcome," I replied quietly, wondering if this little moment of honesty meant anything to her or if she’d just return to her old ways the second she recovered.

Two days passed, and things finally came to a head. I sat in Sharon’s hospital room with Tony and Pepper, chatting idly. Sharon still looked pale but was doing much better, which was a relief. She broke the quiet, her voice firm.

"I want to go home."

I glanced at Thor, expecting him to talk her out of it, but he nodded like it was no big deal and pulled out his phone. "Okay," he said, already texting Steve.

I was a little surprised. I mean, I figured Steve would push back or suggest Sharon stay a bit longer to rest up. I thought the medical scare would have him in protective mode, but apparently not. Maybe it did get to him, and he just wanted her home, safe and sound.

Maybe. 

Back at the villa, Natasha and I helped Sharon pack. We were in her room, folding clothes and zipping up suitcases. It was almost too quiet, with this weird tension hanging in the air. I kept thinking about what Sharon had said earlier. Sure, she was always dramatic, but something felt… off.  

Once everything was packed and ready, Sharon paused and gave Natasha a look, almost like she was sizing her up. Then, out of nowhere, she hugged me. And not the usual Sharon hug, either. This was tight, like she meant it. I was so thrown off I barely hugged her back. While we hugged, she leaned in close and whispered, “Be careful.”

I froze, unsure of how to react. I mean, what? What was I supposed to do with that? But before I could even process it, Sharon had already pulled back and moved on to hug Natasha.

“Take care,” she said to Natasha, sounding casual. 

Steve was waiting by the door, ready to walk Sharon out like the doting boyfriend, but Sharon, true to form, brushed him off. “I’m fine,” she said, barely looking at him. She kissed him on the cheek like she was going through the motions.

“I hope you enjoy the rest of your trip,” she said, her tone neutral. But when her eyes flicked to me, I saw something else. Concern? A warning? I wasn’t sure, but the look stuck with me.

And then she was gone. I didn’t know what to think. Was I supposed to read into all that? Or was Sharon just being Sharon?

Everyone seemed to fall back into their usual routine in no time, but I couldn’t shake what had happened to Sharon. How quickly she’d spiraled, how fast she was just… gone. It stuck with me, swirling in my head while I sat in my room trying to make sense of everything. Natasha was sitting next to me, doing her best to comfort me, saying Sharon would be okay, I didn’t need to worry so much, and I should continue enjoying my vacation.

 It eventually went quiet, and Steve was standing at my doorway when I looked up.

Natasha gave me a quick look, then stood without a word and left, leaving me alone in the room with him. He didn’t hesitate, walking over to sit beside me on the bed, his usual confident demeanor softened.

“The last few days were pretty scary, huh?” Steve said, his voice calm. “But at least we can all have peace of mind now, knowing Sharon’s okay.”

I nodded, trying to push away the uneasiness still clinging to me. “Why did you let her go?” I asked, my voice quieter than I meant it to be. 

Steve glanced at me, his eyes soft but steady. “She’s not well, Kiwi. It wouldn’t be fair to keep her here, away from home” 

His reasoning was precisely what I expected, but I still didn’t like it. 

Steve stood, grabbing my hand and pulling me to my feet. “Come on, everyone’s going shopping,” he said, his voice warm and persuasive. “You should come. Take your mind off of all this.”

I hesitated for a second but then nodded. “Okay,” I agreed, letting him lead me out of the room and into the main area, where everyone else was already waiting, ready to head out.

Sharon was still on my mind, but if she was going to be okay, maybe I could try to enjoy the rest of this trip. It was what I came here for, after all.

A few days after Sharon left, I finally got a text from her.

–Feeling much better. Thanks for everything.

That was it. No long explanations, no dramatic thank you, just that simple message. I let out a breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding. Knowing she was okay should’ve given me peace, but I couldn’t shake this odd sense of... detachment. The days here at the villa were starting to blur together, each feeling like the last.

Morning yoga, lounging by the pool, and fancy dinners were like living in some beautiful, surreal bubble. But I couldn’t help feeling like I was drifting through it all, like none of this was real, and I was just waiting for something to snap me back to reality.

Maybe it was because Sharon wasn’t here anymore. Or perhaps it was because I couldn’t help but wonder if things would change now that she was gone.

I don’t know exactly when it started, but over the next few days, Steve got a lot more comfortable around me, too comfortable, if I’m honest. It wasn’t just the casual arm draped over my shoulder anymore or how he’d guide me by the small of my back. Now, it was more.

One afternoon, after a long day by the pool, Steve came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and lifting me slightly off the ground. I squealed, surprised, but he just laughed and set me down, pressing a ‘playful’ kiss on my cheek.

“Hey, you!” he said, that usual charming grin on his face as if this kind of intimacy between us was completely normal.

I blinked, frozen in place for a second, trying to process what had just happened. No one seemed to care or even notice. Peter and Natasha were too engrossed in some heated conversation by the pool. Bruce was off somewhere with Jane, Thor, and Pepper.

What the hell was that? I thought. But I smiled back, brushing it off like it was nothing.

Another day, during a group hike, he held my hand the entire time, something he hadn’t done before. It wasn’t like we were lagging behind or needed help climbing; he just... held it, like it was the most natural thing in the world. I remember feeling that odd, familiar discomfort creeping back in, but no one said anything. Not Natasha, not Peter, not anyone.

Then came the moment that threw me off. We were all gathered outside around the fire pit one evening, laughing about something silly Tony had said, and Steve, turned to me, all giddy from whatever had amused him so much,  peppering kisses all over my face, forehead, cheeks, nose, all in this overly affectionate, playful way.

“Steeeve!” I protested, trying to push him away, but I was laughing, shocked at the sudden intimacy. He was grinning ear to ear like a little kid, completely unbothered by my attempts to squirm out of his grasp.

“Come on, it’s just a little love!” he teased, finally letting me go, still beaming like he’d won some game.

I sat there, feeling a little off-kilter. What the hell was going on? Since when had we gotten to this level of closeness, and why wasn’t anyone calling it out?

I glanced around, half-expecting someone to call us out or ask if I was okay with it. But there was nothing, just more laughter and easy conversation. It was like this was normal, like Steve’s sudden affection wasn’t something to question.

I didn’t know how to respond to it, didn’t know if I wanted to respond to it. 

After a wild night with the group, I practically stumbled into my room, still feeling the effects of my drinks. I barely remember hitting the pillow before I was out cold. The following day, this unfamiliar warmth was beside me, and I could hear the softest snoring in my ear.

I blinked, groggy and confused, slowly turning my head to see Steve, lying in my bed. His arm was draped over me, and he was shirtless. My breath caught in my throat. What the hell?

Carefully, I inched out from under his arm, moving as slowly as possible so I wouldn’t wake him. My mind raced, trying to remember if I had invited him into my bed last night. Had I? No, I couldn’t have. I didn’t do stuff like that. Or, at least, I didn’t think I did. But everything was fuzzy.

I tiptoed out of the room and into the hallway, my heart still pounding as I tried to make sense of the situation. By the time I made it to the kitchen, I was practically shaking.

Natasha was already there, casually sipping her coffee like any other morning. Like nothing was out of the ordinary at all.

 I also bonded with Natasha in a way I hadn’t expected while on this trip. She started opening up more, dropping her usual aloofness, and I realized she wasn’t as hard to read as I’d initially thought. We talked more about life, and awkward moments and even shared a few laughs that made me feel a little more at ease while on this trip.

We sat together eating breakfast, and Natasha seemed more relaxed, telling me about how exhausting it could be keeping up appearances with their friend group, especially with Steve and Sharon always in the spotlight.

“I get it,” I said, nodding. “It’s like you’re always on, you know?”

Natasha smiled, but it was tired as if the weight of those expectations had never fully gone away. It made me feel a little less out of place, knowing that even within their circle, not everything was perfect.

We continued chatting about random things when I decided to ask the question that had been on my mind for days. “Hey, is it just me, or is Steve... I don’t know, acting different? Like, friendlier than usual?” 

Natasha shrugged it off, barely looking up from her plate. “Oh, he’s like that with everyone. Real touchy-feely. It's just Steve.”

I don’t remember him being like that back in University.

I frowned. Sure, Steve was always friendly, but this was different. Before I could push it further, Steve appeared in the doorway, shirtless, his pants barely buttoned like he had just rolled out of bed. He looked at us with a grin. “You guys started breakfast without me?”

I froze as he bent down and kissed my cheek quickly, then moved over to Natasha and gave her a peck on the top of her head. She stiffened before reverting to a more relaxed position. She looked at me, her expression almost smug as if to say, See? Told you.

But I wasn’t buying it. The entire interaction was already so weird. Too familiar. Too uncomfortable. But I kept my doubts to myself. 

By the afternoon, everyone had scattered to do their own thing, and the villa felt a little too quiet for my liking. Needing a breather, I wandered out for a walk, hoping the fresh air would help me clear my head. No destination in mind, just the need to escape for a bit.

As I strolled along the path near our villa, I noticed a man lounging on the porch of the neighboring property, casually sipping from an iced coffee. He caught my eye and waved me over with a lazy smile.

"Afternoon," he greeted, his voice carrying a teasing edge. "You look like someone who's just been subjected to one too many rich-people conversations. Tell me, how long until you snap and start throwing caviar at their faces?"

I snorted, surprised at his bluntness. "Oh, I’m, uh… actually with them."

I wasn’t wearing a uniform, but I guess my clothing didn’t look as fancy as everyone else I was with.

“Lloyd”, he introduced himself. He raised an eyebrow, eyes covered by sunglasses pretending to clutch his chest dramatically. "No! Say it ain’t so. You’re one of them? And here I was, thinking I’d found a sane person in this gated paradise."

I laughed nervously, unable to help myself. "I guess I blend in well, then?"

He smirked. "Sure, if ‘blending in’ means looking like you’d rather be elsewhere. Let me guess, they’re already planning which island to buy next while you’re just trying to figure out how not to roll your eyes?"

"It’s not that bad," I replied, though my smile probably gave me away.He chuckled. "Don’t worry, I’m not judging. I’ve met their type. The kind who consider ‘roughing it’ to mean forgetting their designer sunglasses. God forbid they experience a single unfiltered moment."

“Aren’t you one of them?” I asked. Crossing my arms. It seemed like he was here with his own personal Villa, so I had no reason not to believe that he was no better than the ‘rich kids’, I’d been spending time with.

“Only half,” he responds. “I lived with my mom in Brooklyn, New York, for most of my life, and Papa Bear decided he wanted to be a father. Turns out he’s loaded.”

I raised my brows, not expecting that. 

He smiled, his mustache was almost endearing. “Well, don’t just stand there, come have a seat.” He pats the chair next to him, the invitation as casual as his grin. I hesitate for a second, but then the thought hits me—what’s the harm in learning more about my temporary neighbor? I needed a break from everybody else and it was refreshing to meet someone outside of that.

I step forward and sit, feeling a strange mix of curiosity and ease.

I wasn’t sure when my light flirting with Lloyd had turned into actual interest. Maybe it was his dark humor, or maybe it was just that he was so different from everyone else in my life, grounded. He wasn’t part of Steve’s wealthy, entitled world. It felt refreshing, something I didn’t even know I needed until now. 

 He leaned back, eyeing me thoughtfully. " What’s the story? How’d you end up with the royal brats?"

Before I could answer, a familiar voice called out my name. I looked up to see Steve, standing in front  me with his usual confident grin, though there was something more possessive in the way his eyes clung to me.

"Lunch is almost ready," Steve said, not even glancing at Lloyd. "We should head back." He point over his shoulder to our villa.

I was caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone, but I quickly introduced them, trying to ease the awkwardness. "Oh, uh, Steve, this is Lloyd. He’s renting the villa next door."

Lloyd stood and offered his hand, smirking as they shook hands. "Nice to meet you. So, you must be the one keeping our girl here trapped in luxury hell."

Steve’s expression didn’t change, but there was a noticeable tightening of his jaw. "Something like that," he replied, his tone smooth but clipped.

Their handshake lingered a second too long, each of them standing tall, as if silently sizing each other up. Lloyd didn’t back down, though his grin stayed playful, almost like he enjoyed ruffling Steve’s feathers.

Steve’s turned toward me "We should go. Don’t want to miss lunch."

I barely had time to say goodbye to Lloyd before Steve was pushing me back toward the villa dropping his arm over my shoulder on the way there. As we walked, Steve leaned down, whispering, "You’re too sweet for your own good."

I frowned, confused. "What do you mean by that?"

He didn’t answer, just gave me a look that sent a small shiver down my spine, before we continued walking, leaving me wondering what had really just happened.

The drinks were definitely stronger that night. I could feel the warmth spreading through me, my head swimming just enough to make everything feel a little too slow, a little too blurry. The laughter around me was still loud and bright, but I was barely holding on. Steve must have noticed because, without saying anything, he stood up and gently pulled me to my feet, guiding me back toward the house.

I barely remember the walk inside. My body felt like it was made of lead, each step heavier than the last. By the time we made it to my room, I collapsed onto the bed, too tired to even think about changing into pajamas. I just rolled over, letting my eyes close. Sleep was right there, pulling me under, but something made me crack an eye open.

Steve was pulling off his shirt, tossing it aside with his sandals. His movements were casual, like this was normal for him, like he belonged here. The lights clicked off, and before I could say anything, I felt the bed dip beside me as he climbed in.

“Steve… go to your room,” I mumbled, trying to form the words properly, but they came out thick and slurred. I knew I should’ve been pushing him out, but I couldn’t make my body cooperate. Then his arm slid around my waist, pulling me closer to his chest. His warmth was overwhelming, and every part of me knew this wasn’t right.

But I was so tired

 My brain told me to fight it, to deal with him, but my body refused to move. I’d deal with this tomorrow, I promised myself. I’d give him hell in the morning.

For now, though, I’ll just closed my eyes and let the exhaustion take over

The next morning, I woke up alone, feeling groggy with a mild headache and my body aching in a way I hadn’t expected. For a second, I forgot Steve had been in my bed last night, but the room's quiet made me realize I was alone now. I groaned as I sat up, my head pounding a little too loudly, and all I could think about was finding some Tylenol and going back to bed.

Except I didn’t have any Tylenol. Of course, I didn’t think I’d drink this much on this trip, so I hadn’t packed anything for a hangover. I could ask one of the girls. Pepper seemed like the type to be prepared, but we weren’t exactly close, so I decided to go with Natasha. Maybe she’d have something.

I dragged myself out of bed and over to Natasha’s room. The door was slightly ajar, and soft music was coming from inside. I hesitated momentarily, not wanting to barge in, but I needed something for my head, so I nudged the door open.

 And immediately regretted it.

There, in the middle of the bed, were Natasha and Bruce, naked as the day they were born and completely entangled in each other. My brain barely had time to process what I saw before I quickly closed the door, my heart racing. I stood there momentarily, holding my breath, praying they didn’t see me. The lack of any sudden movement or panic behind the door told me I was in the clear.

I shut the door as silently as I could, ensuring they had their privacy, and retreated to the kitchen. My headache still pounded, and now I was too embarrassed to ask for anything. I figured I could make myself some tea instead and hope that would help.

As the tea brewed, I searched the villa for any kind of pain relief—Tylenol, ibuprofen, Vicodin, anything. But I came up short. Of course, this fancy villa didn’t have any necessities like that. By the time I finished rummaging through the place, my tea was ready, and I grabbed it, deciding to take it outside for some fresh air.

I stepped out by the pool, hoping for a quiet moment to rest my head. But someone had already beaten me to it.

Peter.

He was sitting by the water, looking out at the horizon. I felt awkward, like I was interrupting something, so I mumbled an apology, ready to leave him to his thoughts.

"Don't worry," Peter said, turning his head to look at me. "You can sit with me if you want."

I hesitated for a second, but then I decided to stay. I sat across from him, sipping on my tea, and we fell into some small talk. Nothing too deep, just idle conversation about the villa, the weather, the usual. 

But the more we talked, the more curious I became. My mind kept circling back to something nagging at me since I arrived. Finally, I couldn’t help myself.

“Whatever happened to Clementine?” I asked.

The moment the name left my lips, Peter’s entire demeanor changed. His head snapped toward me, eyes narrowing slightly. There was a stiffness in the air now, thick with tension.

I remember when Peter came to university with a girlfriend, MJ. But they’d broken up, and then there was Clementine. I remembered how inseparable they seemed, always affectionate, always together. It was hard to picture them apart, and yet, Clementine hadn’t been around this trip. No one had mentioned her.

I quickly added, noticing how tense Peter had become, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

The air between us hung heavy with the weight of my question.

Peter sighed and waved off my concern. "No problem," he muttered. Then, almost casually, he added, "She went crazy."

I blinked, unsure what to say, but he continued before I could ask.

“When we both graduated, I was supposed to start mentoring under my father, you know? And Clementine, she landed a job right out of university. Everything seemed to be going great. Then, I proposed.” He paused, his jaw tightening slightly. “She rejected me. She said she wanted us to be more ‘stable,’ which didn’t make sense to me because we were both financially secure. But apparently, there were other types of stability we didn’t have.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, the frustration evident in his voice. “A month later, she breaks up with me. At first, I just let it go. We were done, right? But then I started hearing these rumors about how she lost the lease on her apartment and got fired from her job. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. We weren’t together anymore. It wasn’t my problem.”

Peter’s gaze drifted away, his voice quieter now. “Next thing I know, I get a call from her parents. They were begging me for help. She’d ended up in a psych ward, and they couldn’t afford the treatment, and they made too much money for government assistance but not enough to cover her medical bills. So, I stepped in.”

He glanced at me, his eyes darkening with the memory. “You should’ve seen her, Kiwi. She’d lost so much weight; it was like she was disappearing from the inside out. I couldn’t just leave her like that. So, I took custody, her parents transferred her power of attorney, and Now, she lives with me at my place.”

I stared at him, shocked. I had no idea things had gotten so bad with Clementine. It was the complete opposite of the girl I remembered.

Peter ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “The thing is, she can’t talk to anyone else. I seem to be one of the only people she can communicate with. So, I’m careful when I bring others to my place. I don’t want to upset her.”

“Peter, I’m so sorry,” I said softly, unsure what else to say. It felt the wrong thing to say, but it was all I had.

He gave me a small, grateful smile. “Thanks. She’s doing better now, but... she still finds it difficult to leave the house. I’ve been doing everything I can, but I get pretty protective myself. Probably too much, honestly. I’m working on it.”

I didn’t know what to think. I hadn’t expected any of this. It was hard to imagine Peter caring for Clementine like that, to think of her in such a fragile state. The whole situation felt like a punch to the gut, and I couldn’t help but feel a wave of sympathy for him.

"You're a good person for helping her," I finally said, unsure what else to offer. Peter just nodded the heaviness of the conversation lingering between us.

[mecachrome]

your oscar primer was absolutely brilliant, thank you so much for posting it!! well-researched, well-written, and a good balance of educational and hilarious. if you want to share, i’d be very interested in reading any of the parts you mentioned that you cut out, like george-admiring, oscar’s psyche, etc, but no pressure ofc 🫶

omg no thank you so much for your kind words, i appreciate it a lot!!! :D andddd let me see... honestly i was just going to add a few more quotes & anecdotes from other people about his personality but i ended up incorporating most of them into the primer (e.g. mark's), but in general i think it's really charming how Every Single Adult who has ever worked with oscar throughout the years is so deeply and immediately convinced of his maturity. i did work in most of this old ask but it has a few extra quotes in there from mclaren personnel! anyway more below the cut:

i guess really the thing to Me about oscar is like...... idk if this makes any sense but i personally love how he's naturally a really gracious and diplomatic person but is also deeeeeply self-assured and objective, which on one hand means he presents as quite humble when he doesn't make excuses for himself or get caught up in deceptively high results, but on the other also means he refuses to give anyone else credit for his own success; if you remember me briefly mentioning prematax in that post he talks about it in the f1fs pod where he basically goes i didn't win because of PREMA, in fact i've NEVER LOST TO A TEAMMATE, SO. like any racing driver that is def a big source of pride for him, and i think it speaks to the "silent killer" (per lando) side to him, the guy who mark says "falls asleep" when hearing stories of his (championless) career, who said that he supported mark out of national obligation growing up but—let us not forget—vettel was the one winning everything back then anyway, who says he put even more pressure on himself to win his final race in f2 despite having clinched the title 2 races prior because he felt the innate urge to prove that he wouldn't simply ease off the gas pedal and still had it in himself to subjugate the field one last time.

along these lines oomf and i have discussed before how he and alex rank similarly on the kind/nice dichotomy in a way that is slightly diametric to lando, wherein he is always willing to offer tidy bits of sympathy for someone else's struggles but doesn't ever really envision any of them as relevant to his own experiences, because getting caught up in that "external noise" would be a waste of time (even with logan in the f3 finale it was honestly kind of like "aw man that sucks, i'd hate for it to be me... ANYWAY"). like not to maybe exaggerate his interiority but i enjoy that he carries an amount of hidden tension that he obviously consciously decides to not take reactionary measures over—though that doesn't mean it isn't there, it's just very well regulated (unrelated but he does actually work with mental coach emma murray, who also works with scott mclaughlin and whom he says helped him center himself at the end of his eurocup season). but he's still very... unfiltered about when he's been disrespected in an unperturbed, straightforward manner, like saying otmar confronting him on the sim over being promoted to the seat was "bizarre and frankly upsetting," the face he made when he was told they'd overtaken alpine in the standings in 2023, telling the kids in that hp tuners interview that the renault engineers treated his first f1 test too nonchalantly, etc. 😭 like every interview back when he was a reserve driver was soooo "i'm gracious about being stuck in this role but also i've proven myself way too much to Not Hate This Compromise and i'll be pissed as hell if i don't get a seat next year"... i'll stop here but basically he is truly a master of balancing gritted-teeth conviction with his tactical charm and it is one of my fav things ever about him!!!

also another quote i love is this one from david sera about his driving style, because 1) i love the correlation between it and his personality/calmness, 2) i'm obsessed with the dynamic of his early rc days helping nurture a style of "finesse" in his driving throughout his junior career that may not have appeared naturally if he'd only begun racing in karting (and subsequently how he had to learn to not get "muscled around" after moving to europe), and 3) of course as a noted jb22 appreciator i love when people note similarities in his inputs to jb because it is delicious to ME:

Coming from a remote control car background where concentration, finesse and smooth inputs, these were the traits we saw in Oscar in the cadet category. [...] You would often see other drivers have an advantage in the early part of the race, driving more aggressively, but Oscar had a more calm approach.

c__c but back to the first part of the ask and our good friend russell jorge, i'm mostly obsessed with oscar's reactions to his performance at the rollercoaster that was spa 2021 and the fact that he's been so vocally appreciate of george "outperforming" the car he was in. the 2 instances of the word HERO on his twitter:

and then this quote in an interview he did in 2022:

"[Success] is definitely not just defined by just world championships, and if you can outperform the car that you're in—I think George Russell has been a very fine example of that in years previous, you know, constantly getting the most out of that Williams and of course Spa. (laughs) Bit controversial, but he got a podium at the end of the day! And even without that, he qualified second, he outqualified everyone except Max in a Williams, which, you know, is an unbelievable result."

also george being the only f1 driver (i think) to tweet him for his f2 title :saluting_face:

AND ALSO THEM SHARING THE ANECDOTE OF THEIR AWKWARD FIRST MEETING ON THE FAST & CURIOUS POD??? aka oscar was told in his april 2023 ep that they were going to interview george next and he was like oh ok you can ask him about our "slightly left-field introduction," and then they had george on who was like oh yeah i met oscar for the first time washing our hands together in the bathroom on our way to the ausgp in 2020 😭 what a way to meet.

[moontheoretist]

Acina, what the fuck? I know that I assured you that the issue will be dealt with. Yes, I did lie, but it was not, because I knew something you didn't (except that Shae disappeared), but because I felt Empire was trying to encrouch on Alliance's jurisdiction and was crossing the line.

Were my choices bad for my alliance with the Empire? Probably, but I was distrustful of their movements for quite some time and tried to do everything to show that Alliance is independent, not a subsidiary of the Sith Empire. And now she dares to insult me, because my ally did something literally unpredicatble? I had no idea she was going to do that, I'm not a psychic, no matter my status as the Voss Mystic too.

The truth is I didn't inform them about Shae, because frankly I felt it's not their problem to deal with - they had no right to this information. If I had a "slight inclination" of what Shae was going to do, I would have informed the empire that she went rogue and we are tracking her as we speak. I have literally no idea what mental gymnastics Shae had to do to come to the bizarre conclusion that she needs Malgus to enact her revenge on Heta Kol, when my inclination was that he isn't related to the entire movement and couldn't care less about it.

Well at least this plays into my headcanons.

Game will never allow for this, but I personally was displeased in what Acina was doing recently with the Sith Empire as well, and I wouldn't say no to some coup in order to put someone else on the throne.

It's really funny, because I romance Acina, so this entire situation is such a goddamn angst and lack of trust between me and her lol. And such a good precursor to my future plans for our "alliance". I gave her a chance to change the Empire, but I can see they largely wasted it. They did some commendable things, but overall got meh results. So as far as I'm concerned, a new leader is needed to enact true change.

But that's headcanons.

At least Lana understands Shae's actions were not my fault.

Meanwhile Darth Rivix wants to get stabbed. I didn't trust him since Mannan so he earned that one. Next time we meet he will understand why I'm nice only to a point. And why crossing it is a bad idea.

He and Shae both will learn that lesson.

Me keeping the holocron and the people found by the super weapon away from the Empire is just a first step towards me trying to assert Alliance's status as independent third party. Sith Empire has no right to this holocron or those people, but act as if they did. (Funny how before they had no issue with me holding stuff away from them (or acted like it until Iokath) but now me keeping something safe from them to ensue it won't get misused is suddenly a big fucking problem lol). If that makes me a traitor or disployal then so be it. Bring it on.

[1yyyyyy1]

Tips & tricks on how to stop giving a fuck about other people, specifically their feelings and chimpout reactions, if you're sensitive to that stuff?

This is a complex topic. You can become sensitive to people's reactions for quite a few reasons, ranging from mild workplace disagreements to severe trauma. The most effective approach will depend on the cause. As such, I will always advise to consult a qualified professional if it is possible. The following is what found helpful in my own introspection and what I personally find important to understand about mental health.

Do you have these moments in your life where, long after a conflict subsided, you replay an event in your head wishing you had retorted with something clever? Do you find yourself thinking how stupid you are for being bothered by something this petty? Is your immediate decision to shut your eyes tight and wish for it to go away? Don't. Stop in your tracks and finish your line of thought. A disturbance like that is not petty. In situations where retaliation is not an option for a variety of reasons, be it the danger of calling out your superior, or simply because the opportunity is long gone, people tend to not only opt out of confrontation, they opt out of experiencing the related emotional feedback as well. How often do you feel that your anger is useless? That the situation is simply too dire to be resolved with a simple display of emotion, and that expressing your displeasure would be a waste of time? Anger is an indication that something is wrong, and it is useless for as long as you devalue yourself and your own biological processes. The reaction you wish you had had has not gone anywhere, you are simply suppressing it over and over again, just like you did during the incident. Recalling it in an untimely manner is what the brain does in an attempt to process the event in earnest.

The solution comes down to the following psychological phenomenon: it does not matter to your brain whether the person you are referring to is real or imaginary, it treats them all the same. If it is not safe for you to confront the person, do it retrospectively and it will have a similar effect relieving emotional tension. The same principle applies to situations where it is dangerous for you to express your disdain outright: dealing with an abusive ex-boyfriend, your parents threatening to evict you should you make a fuss. You can see me refer to an imaginary person in this post as to avoid a spat and let off steam all the same. I have had women confide me in the fact that they talk to themselves in private, and it is crucial to recognize what this process functionally is. Do not deny yourself this on the premise that it is stupid or bizarre. Whenever you catch yourself slipping into an unpleasant memory, take a step back and play out the event as if it were real. Defend yourself to the best of your ability and don't mince words. I assure you, you will not only feel better, you will no longer be haunted by the incident soon after the exercise is over.

If I were you, I would ask myself this: Why do I care? Why do I care about people's feelings? Why do I feel like I have to take them into consideration?

Many a thing with insecurities are an inverse trauma response. It is easier to assume that you breaking down means you are unfit for the job, and not that your supervisor is a bully. It would require reflecting on the circumstances that led up to the moment: financial instability, fear of losing the job, a potentially triggered flashback; that in itself is traumatic. The best thing you can do is not make an enemy of yourself. Few a person has your best interest in mind. Now is not the time to be insecure.

I do not care about people’s opinions and feelings because their input is of limited value to me. Living by this world’s principles has never worked for me, it is stupid to assume that it will now. A common concern I have seen women express over consistently making a harsher judgement is that they will end up not having enough self-awareness not to go overboard, and that they will needlessly hurt the people around them and themselves in the process. The truth is that people who are malignant behaviorally do not ask themselves these questions, and they certainly do not consider themselves being at fault a possibility. With a smidge of awareness, you are good to go.

[darklinaforever]

Hi so random message but I just wanted to check in because I saw people were being weird to you and it was genuinely bizarre to me that people were this triggered by your blog, talking about police reports or some rubbish? “Grace is actually not meant to be on social media as it's hugely triggering for her” - I really don’t understand why the anon thought that was YOUR fault. You’re not responsible for what someone else does, and to blame you for her causing harm to herself just because she thought you stole a post (which is silly), especially when she’s not supposed to be online in the first place, is really dumb. I wish whoever this person is well and obviously hope she’s okay and getting the help she needs, but if her mental health is so low that thinking a stranger stole her post about a fictional show is enough to trigger her to harm herself, she needs to remove herself from online and look after herself, not argue with people and make it worse. I speak from experience because several years ago I was in a bad way mentally and I made it worse by refusing to remove myself from the online space when I was getting harassed by anons. Looking back I recognise I should have just logged out of my accounts and taken time to look after myself instead of remaining in a toxic environment (that I admittedly had a hand in maintaining by arguing with people aggressively online and by giving the anon haters what they wanted), and it wasn’t fair on myself or anyone else to blame all my problems on other people.

Anyway, I’m sorry for the long message, I know I waffled on, but I just wanted to let you know that the people harassing you are being ridiculous and if this person IS getting police involved, it’s a waste of their time and the police’s because what are they expecting to happen? It’s just weird to me that people are so angry at you over this.

Thanks for the support. That's very nice (especially after the last message I received about this if it turns out to be the truth) !

[writingrenna]

Grusha x GN!Reader

"There for the Fall (Pt. 1)"

A story where you insist on being friends with Grusha, and it actually works. However, he grows worried about you when he realizes just how wild you are

Takes place over the course of half a year/a year or so, so a slow burn. More of an overview of key moments where Grusha's opinion of you shifted in different directions. Therefore, the vibes are different to what I usually write. Hope you enjoy!

Tone/Ending: Sweet, Angsty at parts, Open-Ended

Warnings: A bit cringy on purpose at some parts. You injure your wrist in part 2, but it isn't shown how. Also, like before, Grusha notices you're probably an oddball for a reason. He puts a lot on the line cause you're weird and he loves you

Continuity?: The prequel/sorta sequel to "Descent to Reality"

Word Count: Over 7,000 (Overall)

--v-Vv-

The man looked out onto the horizon. He had decided to take the rest of the day a bit slower than usual, sitting down next to his Cetoddle near the boat docks at Porto Marinada. Cetoddle was there to support him, both physically and mentally, but he really did love her the same as all his other Pokémon. And she feels the exact same way towards him.

She wasn't always meant to be his therapy Pokémon.

Before, she would just follow him around whenever he came outside until one day, she helped him get back on his feet when his injury started acting up. Nobody else was around. He then started passively teaching her to be by his side when he left the house, to help with getting around. She even started learning how to ground him when he mentally shuts down, adjusting her methods whenever he's triggered by different things. She, of course, took a bit of time to train, what with her wandering off from time to time at first. But they managed, and now, she never leaves his side, despite him telling her it's Ok to from time to time.

He gave her a little pat, causing her to happily trill to herself. He smiled a bit at this, eyes not leaving where the beautiful blue sky met the rolling ocean as he felt a certain peace wash over him.

This peace was, however, broken when he heard the sound of a Falinks.

Fighting types. They've got quite the advantage over ice types such as Cetoddle, so he was always on-edge whenever he was near one.

Turning around, he saw someone commanding them.

Or, well, trying to.

"Yeah, I mean it! If we all hit a stall, we can save time on auctions! What sounds better, getting them all out the way now, or wasting time if we lose some by going one-by-one?"

The Falinks were all in a V-shaped formation, silently staring up at their trainer, who held determined fists up awaiting their answer. He huffed, trying not to laugh at the sight, although he was still slightly annoyed by the disturbance.

'This is bizarre...' he thought to himself, shaking his head as he turned back toward the view.

The Falinks eventually cried out again, their weird chattering making their trainer upset.

"But... WHY NOT!? You don't have to worry about the cash! You can, like, let me pay when you're done if you know I have enough. See? Don't even have to have the money on you!"

He heard another cry, followed by a groan and a "Fiiiiine." It was only then that he realized he was smirking. He didn't mind it, however, seeing it as just a weird little occurrence during his down time.

He didn't know just how important that trainer with their Falinks would be to him later down the line.

--v-Vv-

He was in Zapapico, getting out of a flying taxi with Cetoddle now out of her travel Pokéball. She was helping him get down, handing him his walking stick as she did so.

"Thanks" He nodded toward the driver, giving him a tip as he nodded back.

"And you-" He softly said to his Cetoddle, dragging the 'you' out a bit. "I hear those imported Poké Puffs are back in stock here, think we should get some?"

Cetoddle's eyes visibly shone, jumping around a little in excitement. He chuckled before making his way toward the store, her following closely behind him with a smile.

They grabbed the variety package, two Deluxe Puffs of each flavor, as well as a case of Pokéblocks for her to have later. It was shaping up to be a pretty uneventful day when he suddenly heard a Falinks.

"What?"

He turned toward the sound, only to see a trainer. The same trainer he saw a month or so back, in fact.

You spot him, eyes going wide and waving.

"Oh, hey there!"

Oh brother.

"Hello."

You sprint toward him, Falinks trailing slightly behind you. His Cetoddle greeted them, and they respectfully greeted her back as their trainers conversed.

"Are you Grusha? That super tough gym leader?"

His face briefly flashed with heat at that casual compliment, but he responded without hesitation.

"Well, I suppose? It's really about strategy once you get good enough."

He takes a moment to tilt his head to the side and eye your uniform. An academy goer. He doesn't remember you having that on when you were at the marketplace, but you were probably just wearing a lighter one. You came here bundled up, after all. Besides, he was too distracted by your... peculiarities.

"But trust me when I say... I don't hold back."

You gulp, taking this comment seriously.

"Oh, yeah, I believe it. For now though, I'm just chilling, taking it easy."

You look at what's in his hands.

"Oooh, Deluxe Poké Puffs! Fancy. My Falinks are fans of Poffins themselves, ain't that right!?"

You had turned to them, prompting an enthusiastic response. His head is still tilted to the side, eyeing them before sitting back up, looking at the person in front of him.

"Rather weird to comment on what someone brought."

You freeze.

"Oh, sorry! I-I just- I dunno, yeah."

He scoffs.

"Interesting."

Your eyes widen. He feels like he was a bit too aggressive.

"Sorry, just... not a good day."

That was a lie. His day was fine, he just suddenly didn't want to deal with anyone. Maybe it just wasn't a good day mentally.

"Huh. No, I'm sorry, I didn't know you were-"

He raises an eyebrow.

"Moody? Sarcastic? Yeah. That's me. Mean 'ol Grusha."

He felt like getting that out of the way so you don't get your hopes up. Everyone always does. Even now, when he tries to be sociable, his old habits come back to the point where he stopped calling them old. It's just how he is.

You look back up at him, shaking your head.

"Doesn't bother me in the slightest!"

He, for the first time since they met, pauses.

"...oh really?"

"Yeah! You seem chill, just a little rough around the edges. Nothin' wrong with that!"

He... doesn't know how to respond to that.

"Ah, I... see."

The two of you stand in silence for a moment before Falinks cries out, snapping you out of it.

"Oh, sorry! We were actually about to settle down at the Zapapico Inn. But we gotta get some grub first, it ain't easy feeding an army..."

You glance at Falinks while delivering your punchline before smirking at Grusha, who struggles to seem unamused when your super obvious joke not only didn't land, but also somehow sounded so dumb, he almost laughed. Almost. But he succeeded in stifling it. With a tinge of amusement in his voice, he carried on.

"Uh-huh."

"So yeah! Gonna get some foods now. I'll be seein' ya! Probably! Ok, bye!"

And with that, you waved at him, walking off toward a quaint little (literal) hole-in-the-wall restaurant nearby. He hears you tell your Falinks you'll pick up some Poffins on the way back to your room, and Falinks responding with excitement.

You seem nice enough.

--v-Vv-

Grusha is standing in front of a café in Montenevera. Hot chocolate in-hand, he walks back down the hill and toward another part of town. Cetoddle was right there with him, making sure he was alright going down the slippery stairs when she cried out, grabbing him by the waist protectively.

"Huh? What's wro-"

He spots you, frozen in place, Falinks marching over to catch up with you. You had stopped in the middle of a sprint, so you looked like a cartoon character. He scoffs.

"Where you about to come barreling through here?"

You give no answer.

"Uncool, that isn't safe for you, or the people around you."

You stare at him, before standing straight up, now glaring.

"For your information, I have these trekking boots on. Besides, I wouldn't just run into people. That's weird."

He isn't swayed by this response.

"Those aren't fool-proof. Trust me, even professional equipment can't stop nature from being dangerous."

You groan.

"I know, but like, a village? If it's so unsafe, why live here?"

Now he's feeling heated. His response is slightly strained, but his volume is low and even.

"You don't get it, it's still-"

Cetoddle pulls at his sleeve, blankly staring at you as she does so.

"...you know what? Whatever."

He starts walking away back up the hill, anything to get away from you. You feel incensed at his audacity.

"What do you MEAN 'whatever'? You started this!"

Grusha tunes you out, choosing to ignore the conversation entirely.

--v-Vv-

Later that afternoon, after a leisurely day of not being called to any duties, he starts to make his way back up the mountain when he hears your voice right outside of town.

"No waaay, that's not a 'last resort', that's a 'bored on a Tuesday'!"

He has a feeling you aren't talking to a person.

He turns to you, seeing you surrounded by nothing but Pokémon. He was right.

You're having a heated debate with your Falinks, who already seem somewhat worried about the things you're implying. There are also a few Cetoddle, a Snover, and a Cubchoo crowding around you, all looking fascinated by the conversation.

Interesting. For real this time.

"I mean, think about it! The hardest part is sticking the landing, and that's IF conditions aren't optimal. You can't tell me you wouldn't be able to do it without a second thought if you were, say, saving a life, right?"

They seem to consider this before giving out a noncommittal cry. You grin deviously at this "maybe".

"Ah-hah! See!?"

You gesture toward them, causing the wild Pokémon to all react in awe at this conclusion.

'What a weirdo.'

Grusha didn't even notice he was staring at you until he saw you turn towards him. You put a hand up to your mouth in faux shock.

"Oh! Well if it isn't sir grumps-a-lot."

"Lame." He simply responded.

You tut.

"I don't care, because I'm RIGHT! See??"

You gesture toward your boots. You were, in fact, still standing.

"I'm FINE!"

"Yup." He nods before shaking his head and responds. "But that isn't what I meant. The stairs are still slippery in this climate. Civilization won't stop a force of nature from doing its job."

You tut again.

"Um, heated stairs?? Wham! Problem solved."

He... actually considers this. But only because it's technically a solution that would work, not because they'd spontaneously do it. The costs, the closing off that part of the mountain, the coordinating the best days to do it, working against the weather... but he wasn't here to argue the logistics of your rebuttal.

"...I suppose you have a point there." He concedes. "But that doesn't solve every problem, you know."

Your eyes light up as you wildly nod.

"I know! Isn't it great?"

He isn't sure how to respond to this.

"This conversation is going in weird places, but I guess that's what I get for engaging with you even after the marketplace incident."

"Hah! Yeah, I- wait, what?"

He feels weird, remembering something you don't seem to, but he continues.

"Yeah, I remember you and your Falinks, trying to get them to go to auctions for you. Hard to forget someone so... peculiar."

You don't respond to this directly, instead asking him something.

"Wait, were you that long haired person? With the Cetoddle? I think I saw you at the docks!"

"Yeah, I was. You're telling me you saw someone with my exact hair, and a Pokémon I'm always with, but didn't know for sure if it was me?"

You shrug.

"I don't like assuming things. Besides! I had to go catch a Kilowattrel, so I decided not to ask."

"Mm-hm." He says, eyeing you.

Talking to you is oddly easy, despite how unpredictable you are. He can't quite place why yet, but he probably isn't going to be thinking about it too much. At least for now.

"Oh yeah, forgot to mention! I finally started making my way through the gym circuit again, so uh, you better watch out. I'm gettin' pretty good."

He wasn't at all worried, but he was somewhat curious.

"Oh really? How many badges you have so far?"

"Five! All I gotta do is beat Ryme, Tulip, and then-"

You aggressively point at him, saying a drawn-out 'you' in a deeper voice. Obviously as a joke.

Grusha doesn't react. He doesn't even flinch, simply staring at you.

"I see."

'This is a strange person.' he thinks to himself.

"Alright. This entire conversation has been a mess. Let's try this again, shall we?"

And yet, he prolongs things.

"Sure?" You shrug.

"Okay."

And then it hit him. He doesn't even know your name.

"Oh, um, what's your name, by the way?"

You introduce yourself. He repeats the name you gave, commenting on it before offering his hand. You take it, shaking it firmly.

"Brrrrr... cold..." You say. He smirks under his scarf.

"See? Nature's gonna nature."

You start walking toward him.

"PSSHT! Whate- WUH-"

And with that, you abruptly sink down, having stepped on a loose patch of snow. Falinks jump up in unison, crying out in a panic and anxiously jogging in place, looking toward Grusha, who was already planning on aiding you.

He rolls his eyes before gesturing for Cetoddle to help you out. She does so, picking you up and placing you down on solid ground. You're trembling now.

"Lesson learned." He shrugs.

"Shh-sh-shut i-t-t." You reply, teeth chattering.

Good thing he knows of the best places to warm up around here.

--v-Vv-

The two of you seemed to be forming a casual sort of acquaintanceship, but the place where you first met face-to-face seems to be turning into a recurring spot for you to see each other.

Here he was at Zapapico again. He came here quite often, usually to get imported goods without needing to travel too far. But this time, he stood in place when he noticed you staring intently at a wall. Cetoddle looked at you, then up to him to see what he'd like to do. He looks at her, before looking back to you, completely quiet. The two of them silently decide to head over to you and your little army.

"Funny how we keep running into each other here, eh?"

You jolt, turning around to look at him, eyes lighting up once you realize it's him.

"Oh, hey! It's you!"

His face heats up underneath his scarf upon seeing your excitement. He instinctively pulls it up to hide this.

"Actually, why do we keep running into each other here? Weren't you going to challenge Ryme or Tulip or something?"

"Oh! I dunno, I just like this place. It's neat! The buildings remind me of ancient cities."

You turn back in order to stare up at the trim on the wall again. He smiles a little.

"And that's why you... stare at them so hard?"

"Huh? Oh, no- hah! Actually, I was just imagining this place with some nice wall art. It'd look really pretty I think!"

He thought about this before remembering; "Hm, sounds like Alfornada."

You freeze before turning to him.

"Tulip's town?"

"Yup."

You seem to think this over.

"Okay! I'll head over, then!"

"What, like, right now?"

"Yeah! For sure!"

He thought about it for a second.

"Okay. How are you planning on getting there?"

You look around.

"Taxi, probably? Or maybe I can walk there from Cortondo?"

The way you just randomly decided to take a trip based on a vague "suggestion" got to him. Did you always throw yourself into things like this?

"Wow, Ok."

He wanted to fight the urge to say too much, but he couldn't help but ask.

"What about your Pokémon? If you went in the suggested order, you still aren't strong enough to face Tulip, so you're probably not strong enough for the wild Pokémon there, either."

He felt an intense urge to make sure you didn't die. For some reason.

"I'll be fiiiiine, I got a... OOH! I got a few bug types in boxes! I can bring some out if I need to."

"I... doubt they'd be strong enough. Type advantages aren't everything, you know. It's strength, typings, and strategy working together that carries a team."

You frown.

"Ok, so I shouldn't go?"

"I'm not saying that, I just mean not right now."

"Hah! But- but, what if, what if the wild Pokémon aren't that strong? What if I can-"

"Look, if you really want to go, I'll go with you. Just to show you how in over your head you're being right now."

You actually look very excited at this prospect, something he wasn't prepared for. A part of him was hoping you'd get offended at the offer and turn it down, but going with you isn't... the most terrible thing in the world.

But he's thinking ahead now. You didn't even give your-

"Yeah! That'd be great, actually! If you're really fine with coming on such short notice, of course."

--v-Vv-

The two of you land in Alfornada. He almost can't believe he actually went through with it, taking his jacket off and loosening his scarf as you get out. He doesn't know where you've gone, but he has to bring Cetoddle out.

As he readies her Pokéball, he sees a hand reach out to him.

It's you, offering to help him down.

His mind blanks out for a second, not expecting you to come around and offer help (especially considering you were so excited to land you had to be held back for your own safety), but he accepts it, albeit hesitantly.

"...thanks..."

As usual, he tips the pilot, although it's usually not before summoning Cetoddle.

Cetoddle herself seems to notice this, excitedly popping out with a little chirping bellow, only to look confused seeing him out of the taxi already. He motions toward you. You're turned away, summoning Falinks.

Cetoddle looks at you, then back at him before smiling wide.

To most, it looks like a normal Cetoddle smile.

But he knows there's a devious undercurrent to it.

She's thinking about him, plus you, and the fact that he's softening up towards you.

"No." He says forcefully as she lowly coos in amusement, eyes searching his now blushing face.

He always gets defensive over you, always insisting you're just a weirdo he keeps bumping into.

But a weird part of himself actually wants to get to know you more, despite the fact that you argued during your third meeting. Despite the fact that you were oddly intrusive during the second. Despite the fact that he thought you were basically insane when he first laid eyes on you, trying to get your Pokémon to bid on your behalf. He'd have to ask you how that'd even work later on, if you were still in his life, that is.

Yes, you get into trouble a lot, and you're kind of- well, very weird. But he still tries to be around you. Because he could sense an earnestness to you. You were a bit sarcastic and defensive around him, but so is he, around everyone, and he can tell you're not being malicious with it, just like him. Besides, you being a bit crazy makes him feel more sane. At least, that's what he's telling himself, because deep down, he finds your weird insistence to be around him despite his hesitance and your crazy way of being sort of... comforting. As if your strangeness made him feel at-ease quicker.

He shakes his head, blush now faded.

"Alright. What do we do first? See the sights or crush your whole world?"

--v-Vv-

"WHAAAAAAA!?"

You dramatically point to a wall with colorful hanging plates, turning to Grusha with wide eyes. You look positively crazy, but he can't help but suppress a smirk.

"Told ya this place has some good art. Surprised you didn't already know about it."

"I didn't! I was sorta going through the treasure hunt surprised by all the things I'd see, but this!? This scratches that itch I felt in Zapapico, for sure!"

You tilt your head at him, eyes bright and full of sincerity.

"Thanks for bringing me here."

This time, he has no way to hide the light shade of red forming on his face. He looks away, but it's certainly too late. You had to have seen that, right...?

But yet, when he calms down and looks back at you, you show no signs of being ready to pick on him for it. You noticed, face giving it away as if suppressing an intrusive question, but you kept your thoughts to yourself.

He coughed.

"It's nothing, really."

You smile.

"Well, it means a lot. I think I wanna see one last thing, then you can crush my dreams, okay?"

He shook his head.

"No, it's... it's alright. There's no need to crush your dreams anymore, just..."

He doesn't continue, but you seem to understand him. He's relieved. He'd really rather not spell it out for you.

"Yeah, don't worry, I'll keep training my team. I'll be able to breeze right through next time I come here, just you wait."

He nods.

"Good."

And with that, the two of you made your way up to the top of the observatory. He had to convince you not to walk up the sides, but he managed to (literally) talk you down. Do you ever feel tired?? He hasn't seen it yet. Grusha takes a few moments to sit down on a ledge at the very top, letting you run around and... hold your arms out in the middle of the battle court.

He watched as you stood there, head up, still as a Sunflora statue, looking like you're praying to the sky. It was certainly odd, but he's already decided odd was simply your default. But he had to speak up when you finally did move, only to get down and lie on the ground, Falinks immediately swarming to protect you from the world on all sides.

"Um. What?"

"Huh?" You call back out to him.

The observatory is massive, so you basically had to shout at each other.

"What are you doing?"

"Oh! Lookin'."

He looks around, thankful you're both alone, waiting for you to elaborate. You don't.

"...good answer."

"It's comfy! Come down here!" You offer as you raise an arm up.

"Mmm, how about I don't?"

"LAAAME!"

He shakes his head in mild amusement.

"Well, one of us has to be sane here."

You lower your arm at once.

"Sane? More like... like... lame!"

"Good enough."

You sit up, having gotten your fill of admiring the architecture, Falinks getting back into formation next to you. You turn, still seated, about to say something, when you realize he's sitting down, too.

You decide to wait, not wanting to rush him.

He notices. He saw the way your face went from excited, to calm in an instant, mouth ready to form the words that would send you both on your way, only to just... not.

How considerate...

If he knows you even a little (and he thinks he's starting to), he knows you're probably somewhat bored, having taken in everything you wanted to up here. But no, you slow down, for him. And you act distracted as to not give away your intentions.

But he can tell.

He closes his eyes for a bit, taking in a breeze blowing through.

'What even is this relationship?' He ponders to himself.

He considers maybe labeling it as something more than just an acquaintanceship. But he felt that openly calling you a friend at this point was a few steps too far.

What's holding him back?

He thinks for a bit, face scrunching up in deep thought when he feels someone's presence looming over him.

He takes a peek next to himself, only to see you staring at him with a blank expression. Despite expecting this, he jumps a little, gripping his chest.

"Good-ness! Do you do that often??"

"No?"

You continue staring, so he stares right back. You're... oddly good at this. He feels a huff of laughter coming on, but he doesn't let it out. He keeps his cool.

"Okay! I think this has gone on long enough! I'm backing out."

He turns away.

"There, see? You win. Now what do you want?"

"I waaaaant... mmmmmmm... nothing."

You quickly sit up and look away, eyes closed. You're smiling as if you did something.

"Wha-? Okay, then."

The two of you sit in silence yet again. It seemed like peaceful moments with you were possible, you just happened to get bored easily, and also be really, really weird.

He smiled, a small exhale escaping his nose.

Weird didn't necessarily mean bad. In fact, he actually couldn't help but find your presence sort of... nice. You did crazy stuff, but you got the job done, which he could respect. He wishes you wouldn't try and rush things, but you're determined, headstrong.

Just like him.

"I'll break down your walls, Grusha Lastname."

This time, he couldn't help but let out a quick laugh, being caught off-guard by the weird comment. He responds in an even yet slightly elevated tone, however.

"Oh really? How so?"

"I'll keep bugging ya. Uh-huh!"

You nod, eyes getting wider as you got in his face. An amused quirk of the lips as he leaned back is all he did in response.

"I'll bug ya so much, you'll grow to love me, so you'll HAVE to consider me a friend then!"

His heart felt an odd pang of... guilt?

"Ok, then. I'll let you try. But trust me, it takes a while for me to even tolerate people."

This was true. A genuine warning even, at least in his mind.

"Okay! That's cool with me."

He clears his throat, looking away from you.

There you go again, with your weird tolerance for his self-enforced social isolation.

You didn't know how deep his wounds went.

And you also didn't know, that deep down inside, despite the physical and mental scars reminding him why he's so closed-off, the man was already charmed by you.

He'll catalog you in the "friend" category in his mind and refer to you as such someday, but only when he's ready.

--v-Vv-

"I'm telling you, we aren't friends."

Ryme's face betrays her, as she isn't convinced in the slightest.

She's right, but he keeps insisting.

"Alright, if you say so. But don't be shocked when you find yourself doin' stupid stuff in the name of looove, baby."

His eyes widen in shock, hands shooting to his hips in indignation.

"Oh, so now we're jumping to love?"

"I know you. You'd have brushed 'em off by now. But no! Here you go, meetin' them in Zapapico and going on a random little day trip to Alfornada like a happy little Greavard..."

G-Rave barks from somewhere nearby as if confirming her assessment. Grusha simply growls at the both of them.

"Whatever, don't make it seem so lame. It's just because I need to go there anyway. Not my fault we keep bumping into each down there."

He purposefully left out the fact that he was the one to approach you this time, but he felt like it didn't matter. Or, maybe he told himself it didn't?

She scoffs, a smile on her face. She saw right through him, details or not.

"And the trip?"

"...well, I just... it was a suggestion, to be nice! People want me to be nicer. I do it, and now you mock me? Uncool."

He turns away, stubborn as ever.

She shakes her head.

"One day, you'll face the music. The symphony of your heart can't be silenced forever! Trust me. Apparently, my mama couldn't STAND my dad when they first met. But with him, she had the best years of her life, you could just feel the love emanating off of them..."

His stomach drops at this, but he can't quite place why. She can tell. Hand on his shoulder, she comforts him a bit.

"Awww, don't worry about it, baby. You just have to go with the flow sometimes."

He doesn't respond, but he listens, taking in her advice.

--v-Vv-

Grusha decides to stay in today. No particular reason, he just wanted to spend time by himself and rest his injury for a bit. Cetoddle sat nearby, getting some well-earned rest as he decided on what to do that day. He quickly realized he was bored, however.

Grumbling, he pulls out his phone. He really didn't want to leave his house (he had to convince himself to even leave the bedroom for any reason), but he needed some form of entertainment.

He'd be ashamed to say he immediately thought of you. At least, at this point he would.

He looked at your name in his recent contacts. You two have never done a call before, but you've texted sporadically, mostly just to update each other on what you've been doing and letting the other know when they're in the area. You once offered to do a video call during Ryme's gym battle against you, but he refused, feeling like it was disrespectful somehow. But he did sort of wish he said yes, just to get the chance to, weird situation or not...

Now's not the time for that, though. He shoots you a quick message;

[Going online, join me if u want]>

He's not too much of a gamer, but he'll play if he's bored at home. And he knew you'd be in your dorm today, because... well, you told him you would be a week ago, after doing some hardcore studying for a few days. Midterms had just passed and you were NOT happy with your scores. Not terrible, but could definitely use improvement.

'Now they'll think I took time off today just for them...' he thinks to himself, suddenly realizing what it looked like.

It wasn't long before he got a response;

<[Bring it, dortbag >:)]

<[*dirtbag]

<[Dang it]

He chuckles a bit at this as he slips his headphones on before logging onto some online game. It was a fantasy game where you live a life in dying lands while slowly working your way out from said settlement to find a better home, fighting tough Pokémon along the way. You could also have your own Pokémon as pets and battle companions, but since Falinks still wasn't (and might not ever be) an option, you just... became one, as you put it. He wasn't invested enough to get a pet, so he didn't even know what options were there.

He only plays it because you suggested doing something together a few months back, and this was your solution. You even started a new save so you two could play at the same pace.

Sub_z3r0

u in?

Waiting4Falinx

Yea

I am

Wait

Sub_z3r0

??

Waiting4Falinx

Hold on i chose tje wrong server

He groaned, head in his hands, waiting for you to change servers. It takes you a moment.

Sub_z3r0

dingus

Waiting4Falinx

DON'Y "DINGUS" ME 😢

U thought what we had was special

*I

In real life, he huffed in amusement at your antics, but in the chat, he refused to encourage you.

Sub_z3r0

please just join

Waiting4Falinx

I did!!

And just like that, you were at his base.

Waiting4Falinx

Sup

?

You dressed your character in armor to look like a Falinks. He always found that funny for some reason. Well, maybe funny isn't the right word, but he refused to acknowledge the one he was really thinking.

Sub_z3r0

waiting for u?

what else?

Waiting4Falinx

I dunno

Enjoying the game??

Sub_z3r0

i only play it because u told me 2

Waiting4Falinx

Dawwwwq 🥰

That's sweet

Ignore the 'q' btw

This really wasn't what he wanted to do when logging in, but he couldn't help but smirk at how abysmally you type while rushing.

Sub_z3r0

can we play now?

Waiting4Falinx

Sure thing weather boy

He was so close to just logging off, but he didn't, so the two of you played for a while, doing the things you'd usually do to progress when you randomly get side-tracked.

Sub_z3r0

y r u doing this

You were trying to glitch up a waterfall.

Waiting4Falinx

You never know!!

Sub_z3r0

never know what?

Waiting4Falinx

I dunno!!!

THat's why I'm trying!!

You actually manage to clip through for just a second before being pushed back out. But instead of taking the hint, you change tactics.

Waiting4Falinx

WHAT IF!!!

INSTEAD OF GOING UP!!!!

I GO THRU!!?

Sub_z3r0

no

But it was too late. You were already trying to clip through in just the right spot. This would be far more amusing if it didn't mean he had to stand there doing nothing while he waited for you to lose interest. Playing this game on his own wasn't as fun as playing with you.

Sub_z3r0

i am begging u, please stop

Your character stops for a few seconds, being absolutely torn asunder by the rushing water above you, but you reply before going back to it.

Waiting4Falinx

But what if I find something cool? Other players find cool stuff, I want a discovery, too!

He pauses. Is that really it? You want to find something nobody's found before?

Sub_z3r0

ok, but y here?

Waiting4Falinx

I dunno, it has promise

And you continue. He starts wandering around without you, looking for something to do. He's... disappointed.

Sub_z3r0

yo

You stop moving in the distance for a second.

Waiting4Falinx

Yo!!

You go right back to your weird attempt at mildly breaking the game.

Sub_z3r0

im going 2 Wintide's Peak

whether u go or not

You stop again to respond.

Waiting4Falinx

Meet you there!!@

*! not @

He sighs, not shocked at all by this outcome.

He makes his way over, standing at the summit for a few lonely minutes. Other players are whizzing by, snowboarding down the mountainside. That was the place's intended purpose, but he wasn't joining in. Instead, he looked out onto the landscape, just sort of letting it act as a backdrop for now as he thought about what to do next.

He doesn't know why he does this. He doesn't know what leads him to digital summits or those feelings he's afraid to confront. He doesn't know why he hasn't logged out or told you off for wasting his time. He doesn't know why he's currently contemplating life while playing a random online game with graphics that haven't changed since 2007.

He takes a moment to label himself as 'AFK' before going off to check on Cetoddle. It didn't take long, maybe a minute or two, but when he came back, he saw-

Waiting4Falinx

YO

I RETURN

Oh shoot

You're afk

lMAO, I'm sorry

But like, be back?

He scoffed.

Sub_z3r0

i was checking on Cetoddle u absolute hypocrite

Waiting4Falinx

ME!? A HYPOCRITE!?!

Sub_z3r0

who ignored me when i wanted to do stuff?

Waiting4Falinx

Lmao

I was on a mission

Sub_z3r0

did u succeed?

Waiting4Falinx

No 😢

Of course. He smiled, but he was slightly annoyed.

Waiting4Falinx

Can I see Cetoddle?

He froze for a moment, eyebrows furrowed.

Sub_z3r0

like txting u a pic of her?

Waiting4Falinx

No, like a video call!

His stomach did a flip. He didn't expect you to ask him that. He's seen you a lot in-person, though, so why does this feel so... intimate?

It's probably because you haven't seen each other's places outside of like, pictures or whatever. Yeah. That's certainly it, for sure.

He takes a deep breath.

Sub_z3r0

ok

And just like that, the two of you arranged for a video call. He wasn't sure if he should press call or you.

[When ur ready]>

<[I am, let's do this >:)]

[Alright]>

He cleared his throat before calling you. You picked up basically right away, hand already up in a wave.

"Hey there!"

He isn't wearing his scarf, but he has a jacket with a turtleneck collar, so he looks down to hide his face when he blushes.

"Hey."

"How are ya?"

"I'm- good."

"Saaame."

This is a totally new thing for you two. You decide to take the lead a little.

"We can still text if you want, but, this could be fun, too!"

"Yeah, it could."

You suddenly remember something.

"Oh yeah! The baby!"

His face contorted into one of sheer confusion until he remembered.

"Oh, hold on."

He walks off-camera for a second to get her. Kneeling down to the mon, he gives her a little head rub.

"Cetoddle, someone wants to see you." He gently said.

She seemed interested, trilling and getting up to follow him.

When she sees you, she lights up, jumping around.

"Hi hi, Cetoddle!"

He watched you two interact, you asking questions and her responding in her own Cetoddle ways. He secretly liked this development. Cetoddle was unsure about you after your (first) little stunt in Montenevera. But you grew on her, just like you grew on him.

"Oh yeah, check this out!"

You moved away from the camera slightly, revealing your Falinks lying in bed. They were all fast asleep. You smile deviously, rubbing your stomach dramatically.

"Mmm-mmm-mm, yum!"

And just like that, they woke up at once. Drowsy, yet interested, they turn to you. You laugh.

"Hah! I-I'm sorry, I don't actually have anything-"

That laugh- Did you always laugh like that? That weird, abrupt... honk?? It was so awful, he actually spaced out trying to remember if he'd heard it before. You noticed after apologizing to Falinks (and promising them a snack next time you go AFK).

"Gru! Grushyyyyy! Grushy Boo-"

"-what? Stop that! Huh-"

He wasn't aware you were trying to get his attention, but you loudly calling his name immediately grated on him.

"Ugh, whatever, what do you want?"

"Play the game, maybe? You looked horrified by something, you good?"

He was, he just didn't know how he felt about that sudden realization.

"Yeah, I'm good. Let's finally do something, though."

The entire game, however, he kept thinking about your laugh, especially hearing it come out more. It was so strange, like a coping mechanism. It didn't feel like your natural laugh, but it also didn't feel forced.

He didn't really know why he analyzed it so much. He also didn't know why he came to find it oddly pleasant by the end of the night. A weird part of him wanted to hear it more often, now that he noticed it.

--v-Vv-

A/N

Crying/j, just realized the initials for this story would be like "TFTF" if written one-to-one

ANYWAY, have a little note about the end of this part!

At this part:

Sub_z3r0

dingus

Waiting4Falinx

DON'Y "DINGUS" ME 😢

He was meant to say "bruh", and you were gonna say not to bruh you back, but I didn't know if that'd be too much since I already went over my "intentional cringe" quota?? I love "cringe", but not everyone does, which is perfectly fine! I kinda imagine he's a bruh type of dude when comfortable with someone, but not like saying it every day. I dunno! Like a few "bruh"s a month, as a treat. I also imagine him being too serious to bruh anyone, but you kinda throw his brain into a tizzy, so who knows! Maybe you're the exception?

The expy is definitely the bruh type though, lmao, the 'don't bruh me' thing was also gonna have a 'bruhzone' joke he'd immediately steer the conversation away from cause he luuuuvs you, but he didn't love you like that yet, but the idea of you not seeing him as an option scared him for a moment. He wasn't really thinking that way yet though, so to him it was just a momentary panic he didn't understand but absolutely H A T E D

I think bruh is pretty funny, but I didn't want the story to stray from being the sorta "general audience/anyone can latch on" type thing I usually do (the reader has an undiagnosed disorder, so it's niche in a sense?? I mean personality/speech-wise), so I kept it to cringy insults/internet/texting antics. I cannot WAIT to open requests to really personalize these things, oh my gosh

[dozenssporks]

in the Office AU Vash's coworkers have only seen Knives coldly angry and have constructed a mental picture of him as stoic and generally unfeeling. They have no idea he can be cheerful.

So when Knives strolls into the building one day with a pleased smile on his face, alternating between chuckling to himself and humming cheerfully the entire office is shook.

security, calling up to warn them of knives' imminent arrival: smiling! smiling! for a second I thought it was vash with his hair down! Then I recognized the expensive suit. T-they really are twins this is bizarre!

coworker: what is he doing here?! It's eleven in the morning on a monday and vash had the weekend off! Who called him?!

*vash wanders by munching a doughnut*

coworker: why is your brother here?

vash, dropping the doughnut but crouching and catching it before it hits the ground: who? what?! no way!

coworker: he um seems to be in a good mood?

vash, droping the doughnut again and letting it hit the floor: is someone dead?!

coworker: you mean like a family member?

vash: no! one of his business enemies! or someone who cut him off in traffic! Or--oh no!

*vash rushes over to the manager's office and slams the door open*

vash: is the company facing financial ruin?

manager, visibly shaken by vash's entrance: no, we're doing well this quarter? what--

vash: have we been bought out by a larger company?

manager: not at all, why--

vash, heaving a sigh: at least it isn't that. Unless, am I being accused of defrauding the company again?

manager: not so far as I know. did you hear something? your face is dead white

vash, leaving and dialing his phone, bouncing off the door frame when he mis-aims his exit: sorry gotta go!

coworker #2: vash, what did you do?!

vash: I DON'T KNOW

coworker #2: he was smiling!

vash: I KNOW

coworker: we're terrified!

vash: SO AM I--hang on they picked up--wolfwood? my brother is in a good mood do you know what's going on? is anyone dead?

wolfwood: eh? that's terrifying.

vash: I KNOW

wolfwood: got no idea. lemme know if it's anyone I should care about. bye.

*vash, clutching the phone and emitting high pitched noises of distress*

coworker #3: the elevator is coming up! what do we do

vash, waving his arms: early lunch, early lunch! everybody out! If you don't hear from me in fifteen minutes please remember I'd like red geraniums at my funeral!

*there's a scurry of moment as everyone flees to the stairs. there's a brief traffic jam when the elevator dings and everyone tries to get through the door at once. Vash shoves them forcibly free and the last of them escape as knives steps out of the elevator*

knives: vaaaash!

vash, under his desk: be calm be calm he can sense fear I must not fear. fear is the mind-killer

knives, walking past the desks: heeey, so my phone was glitching and I had a tech look at it. Funny thing! you know that app we use to play chess? turns out it'd been hacked!

vash: oh. it's me who's dead

knives, leaning down so he can see under vash's desk: hey vash

vash, peeking from behind his drawn up knees: hiya . . .

knives: it really is very amusing! the game was rigged to make my pieces disappear so I kept losing without knowing why!

vash: haha, really? wow, so weird and random

knives: isn't it? for the sake of company security I naturally had them trace the hack

vash: yeep

knives: I've got you, you cheating piece of trash

vash: w-why are you so cheerful then?

knives: not only did you have to cheat to beat me you also got yourself found out. it proves that I'm smarter than you.

vash: . . . that is so incredibly petty. maybe I could beat you but I couldn't be bothered to waste my time trying huh

knives, smiling widely: you're a loser

vash, kicking at knives: am not!

knives, kicking back: you even lose at cheating

vash, kicking again: you're a meanie sadist

knives, grabbing vash's ankle: you have the intellect of a grade-schooler. Come out of there, we're going to lunch

vash, wiggling and flopping as knives drags him out: I have so much work I don't have time really sorry but maybe another time I can pencil you in honestly I would love to if I just could--

knives: we're going to have a great time and we're going to play chess, won't that be fun?

vash: not--not Silent Chess, right?

knives, dragging vash toward the elevator: talking makes it so difficult to concentrate, don't you think? If you think at all, that is. Not a word until checkmate. I know you like to chat, but surely you can manage for an hour? or two? or more? Time flies when you're having fun!

vash, clawing at the carpet: please tell me you're not going to have legato sit across the room and stare at me this time.

knives: he does so enjoy watching a good game of chess. stand up, please.

vash, obeying: eeeeh . . . can I at least tell my manager I'm leaving early? It's only considerate. Look, the room doesn't even have another exit and the windows don't open.

knives: be my guest

vash, turning toward the manager's office: thank you

*vash spins around and makes a surprise run for the stairs*

knives: you little--!

vash, already pounding his way down the first flight of stairs: see you later alligator!

knives, slamming through the door after him: you can't get away, cheater!

vash, on his phone while he's running: yeah, guys? office is clear but I'm gonna be cutting out--

knives: I'm gonna make your face concave!

vash: yup yup I'll be fine! I've got an emergency evacuation plan!

*vash gets off the stairs at a floor he knows has a fire escape, rounding a corner and skidding to an abrupt halt when he sees a figure in front of the fire escape window*

legato: Hello, Vash Saverem

knives, jogging up, ruffled but grinning: ready to go, vash? legato is driving.

vash, slumping: can we please not use the chess set made of poached ivory?

knives: the set carved from rhino horns it is then.

vash: jerk

knives: moron

*around the corner a brave coworker who had stayed behind to cautiously watch and follow the twins is keeping up a running report to her colleagues on the phone*

brave coworker: I think they're getting along in a dysfunctional sibling relationship that never emotionally progressed past elementary school sort of way. I think he'll be okay.

*brave coworker pauses while the others respond*

brave coworker: oh, yes, definitely, we are going to that fancy bakery and pooling funds to get vash a six pack of doughnuts tomorrow morning.

knives, in the distance: stop touching me!

vash: I'm not touching you!

knives: yes you are!

brave coworker: . . . and another six pack next week, I think

[randomcollectionitem]

clipping. - Face

https://www.discogs.com/release/11980126-Clipping-Face

Hey, we finally had a record show up! This is the 2018 vinyl reissue of the 2012 debut EP from beloved industrial rap trio Clipping (they stylize it as "clipping." but it fucks up my formatting mojo so I'm sticking to the capital C for this one). The A side is the original 3 track tape, and the B side is remixes and an acapella. This version was released by Deathbomb Arc, the same label that put out the original EP.

I was a little late to the Clipping party and got on board with them shortly after the release of their semi-self-titled debut album, CLPPNG. CLPPNG dropped right after Death Grips broke up and the hype surrounding Clipping on the internet was mostly /mu/ posters heralding them as The Next Death Grips. I always thought that comparison was questionable. Outside of a vague sense of being in the same genre they don't share a lot of DNA, with Clipping pulling heavily from harsh noise and power electronics in contrast to Death Grips' sample-heavy sound fueled by math rock-adjacent live drums. Regardless, the JENNY DEATH WHEN era hype train brought Clipping in front of a relatively big audience of outsider rap nerds looking for another hit of bizarre sounds, and they brought it in spades. After listening to CLPPNG an embarrassing number of times I worked my way back to midcity (their first mixtape) and Face. Face really stuck with me, so I was thrilled to see it reissued in 2018 and picked it up immediately.

The original EP is a short-but-sweet three song affair that wastes no space and takes no prisoners. The opening track, the eponymous Face, is a blistering assault of lighting fast bars, blasts of noise, and a catchy x-rated chorus. It's followed by Studio Freestyle 01, which serves as a sort of mental breather in the middle of the list (as much of one as Clipping will give you at least), with mid-tempo freestyle verses alternating call-and-response style with bursts of harsh noise. The EP rounds out with Block, my personal favorite track from the project. Block showcases Daveed Diggs' uncanny ability to make even the smallest things seem profound and significant. A song about nothing becomes a song about everything as he paints a picture of a city block on top of a slow-burning beat. There are no characters. There is no action and no narrative. And that's the beauty of it.

The B side is a collection of remixes backed with an acapella of the first track. I'm normally not a huge fan of remixes, but the selection here is a fun listen. The first two are remixes of the title track, with the first turning it into a stompy industrial club tune and the second chopping it into a wall of samples (including a shockingly straight-faced interpolation of Gangnam Style, and a slightly less straight-faced interlude of the intro to Never Gonna Give You Up). This is followed by Clipping's remix of This Song Is A Drug Deal, by LA noise rock drum-and-shout group Foot Village. It chops up the spastic drums from the original song and uses them as a bed for some verses from Daveed. The side closes out with the acapella of Face, not exactly critical listening but I'm glad it's out there for DJs and remix artists to take advantage of.

As previously mentioned, the copy in front of me is the 2018 Deathbomb Arc vinyl issue, the only vinyl issue to date. The 2012 original pressing was only on cassette, and this deluxe reissue was also available on cassette with an expanded tracklist containing additional Face remixes. I opted for the vinyl version because, frankly, I lived through tapes the first time around; they sucked then, they suck now, and part of me withers away every time I have to buy a new one. Regardless, the vinyl edition is simple but well-presented. The album art still looks good when blown up to 12"x12", and they did a nice job typesetting the back cover. It includes a download code for the download-inclined, and opts for a polybag rather than a paper inner (I breathe a sigh of relief every time I open a new record and don't need to immediately resleeve the LP, records are too damn expensive now for these labels to cheap out with the crappy paper inners that shed everywhere and scuff your new record up). The pressing is fairly shallow, but my copy plays well with little to no surface noise. The sound is a bit dull, but it's not exactly a hi-fi recording in the first place so I'm not going to complain. No inserts or liner notes on this one, but an EP doesn't really need all that anyways. Overall I think they've done a nice job with the reissue.

I think the beauty of Face is that it paints a fairly complete picture of Clipping in only 3 tracks. You have the high energy sonic assaults, you have the artsy contemplation, and you have the fearless harsh noise and power electronics interludes. While it's not their most essential work, if you want a short elevator pitch for why you should care about Clipping, this is it. A great start to a legendary career. Rest assured, if I keep doing this long enough we'll see plenty of other Clipping releases in the future, so strap in for some more noise rap greatness down the road. In the meantime, may your music stay pleasantly abrasive and may your preferred genitals be in your face.

[the-bisexual-virgin]

So this weird thing happens to me when I watch the show heartstopper, I dunno if it’s just me or if it happens to anyone else , after watching each season it for some bizarre reason triggers a depressive episode.

After watching season 1 I had a really bad depressive episode that lasted a few months it was honestly a very dark time in my life , then came season two and I was a bit hesitant to watch it after what happened with the first season, but I told myself I was being silly and a show couldn’t possibly trigger my mental illness like that.

So I watched season 2 and you guessed it, depressive episode. Wasn’t as bad as the first one but still pretty bad and it confirmed that it was indeed the show triggering it , I dunno why or how, there is obviously some psychological reason behind it that I’m not aware of and don’t really understand.

Now season 3 has just come out and I waited a few days before even thinking of watching it. But I recently cancelled my Netflix and I only have it until the 17th so I thought if I’m going to watch it I better do it now, and this season highlights a big mental illness storyline more so than the last 2 seasons, which I was aware of as I’ve read the books .

[also want to mention that I have been doing better with my mental illness lately, I haven’t sh or had ☠️ thoughts and my depression and social anxiety have been more manageable]

But now we are here I binged season 3 yesterday and it probably hasn’t helped I’m due my period so my hormones and emotions are out of wack, but today has been a really rough day I’ve got this constant intense feeling of dread that won’t go away , I feel like I’m going to have a panic attack, I feel hopeless, unlovable, that I’ve done nothing with my life & I’m worthless, I feel like I’m a waste of a human being , that I don’t contribute anything to the world so why am I here , and I’ve had ☠️ thoughts and sh urges which I unfortunately gave into, And I now feel even worse about myself.

And it sucks because I love the show, the characters, and what it stands for. Plus’s I’m fine with the books I can read them no problem, doesn’t affect me, so why does the show I just don’t get it.

I’m not even sure I’m going to post this as I don’t know if it makes any sense or if I’m just truly fucked up that a show triggers me to have a depressive episode and I can’t explain why.

[abject-indulgence]

Headcanons about Legato's relationship with Knives maybe?

Keeping it basic for now to prevent this thing from blooming into a manifesto that nobody actually asked for.

As a note, I quite nearly always gravitate toward the TriMax iteration of Legato when left to my own devices. These headcanons are therefore very much TriMax-coded.

CW: non-explicit talk of past sexual slavery (located at the bottom of the post behind a 'beyond this point' warning)

🍷 To briefly retread some ground that @millionsvash, @meryls-gf, and I were talking about on Discord semi-recently, Knives treated Legato well in the broad scheme of things prior to the events at July. Perhaps not 'softly' or 'gently' in exactly the way that most of us would likely conceive of such things, but well all the same. Legato considers himself to have been reborn upon being emancipated from his former life; and Knives indeed earned that devotion, even if its foundation might seem bizarre or counter-intuitive by quite nearly anybody else's standards.

🍷 (One might even say, in a weird way, that Legato was spoiled; or at least the receiver of a certain amount of unusually indulgent/permissive treatment on Knives' part. The fact that Legato alone has never been assigned a number is neither oversight nor coincidence.)

🍷 By virtue of acknowledging him as a being rather than simply as an object, Knives was the first person in Legato's life to treat him with something resembling a baseline level of respect. (Which is peculiar, given Knives' abundant hatred for the whole of humanity.) Legato had been no more than a toy to others before; but Knives gave him both a name and a sense of purpose with which to inform his new existence. Serving Knives is not a matter of obligation to Legato, but rather his very raison d'être.

🍷 Legato is not a materialistic man. That name, bestowed upon him (like a gift, like a blessing) by Knives himself, is easily his most prized possession.

🍷 (And what an unexpectedly poetic name it is. Knives could have just carelessly tossed a random moniker at him and been like, 'whatever; it's beneath me to waste time thinking about this' -- but he didn't. Knives composed Legato's name; and for what? A mere whim? A flight of fancy?)

🍷 Legato had, at absolute best, only the most rudimentary of reading skills prior to crossing paths with Knives. Regardless of whether Knives, or perhaps Conrad, had any direct hand in teaching him further, the fact remains that Legato bolstered those skills on a new diet of dense, difficult materials -- (things like audio and written records that he scrounged up from Knives or from other various archives) -- upon finding his place at Knives' side. As a result, the word choices, syntax, literary and artistic references, and other general patterns/rhetorical devices that he tends to employ in his own speech can occasionally sit quite strangely upon the ear.

🍷 Legato's feelings toward Vash are complicated, to say the very least. On one hand, he recognizes Vash as a counterpart to Knives, and naturally is inclined to see the same otherworldly glory present in him as it is in Knives. On the other hand though, Legato perceives Vash as the fly in the ointment, so to speak -- the catalyst (beginning with the events at July) which ultimately fractured the dynamic between himself and Knives. Knives' fixation upon Vash spurs Legato's fixation in turn, and in the end he's left circling his own mental drain in an increasingly untethered frenzy, wondering what it is that Vash has that he himself must not, and whether Knives would ever have been able to truly accept him if it hadn't been for the confounding factor of Vash's interference.

🍷 To describe the complete scope of Legato's sentiments toward Knives with words such as 'love', 'lust', 'dedication', and so on would be reductive at best. It's worth saying though, even if imperfectly, that Legato has an immense, multi-faceted yearning toward Knives -- a certain ache to be flayed at his master's altar by the very hands to which he's devoted himself. The precise nature of the flaying he desires -- (literal, figurative, religious, erotic, etc.) -- is both ever-shifting and all-encompassing. ("I am large; I contain multitudes.") Make of that what you will.

[ BEYOND THIS POINT: non-explicit talk of Legato's history as a sex slave, as well as non-explicit talk of how that history affected his early perceptions/expectations of Knives. ]

🍷 There was a period of time early in their association in which Legato -- (having been conditioned for essentially the entirety of his life up until that point to anticipate the worst from others, most particularly from men) -- at least somewhat assumed that Knives would expect sexual favors from him sooner or later. It was less that Knives necessarily seemed the sort, and more that Legato had simply never experienced anything remotely resembling kindness or attention that didn't ultimately come with those very particular strings attached. He had no frame of reference for what it was like to exist in the orbit of others without being treated as a mere doll for others' enjoyment and entertainment.

🍷 Obviously though, Knives never made such a demand.

Legato, on the other hand, made the offer himself exactly one time -- (not because he especially wanted to, but because being of service in that way was simply what was familiar to him then; and the sense of passively waiting for the inevitable hammerfall of yet another disappointment was becoming nearly unbearable) -- but was rebuffed so soundly as to actually, finally convince him that Knives not only had no such intentions for him, but in fact was repulsed by the very thought. Knives wanted nothing from him in that particular way -- and Legato could have wept for joy.

[callsign-owl]

A Second Chance

This is a continuation of No Regrets

London, United Kingdom - December 2018

The interior of Owl's flat was as chaotic as ever, if not more so. The air was dusty and thick with the scent of stale coffee. Books, papers and dirty laundry were scattered haphazardly around the room, a physical manifestation of Owl's mental state. Owl had been granted bail after initial custody but had been confined to his flat since then.

Owl laid on the worn leather couch, his eyes hollow, staring blankly at the ceiling. Not even the sound of a key turning in the lock managed to snap Owl out of his stupor. As the door swung open and Percival entered, Owl remained motionless, his dishevelment a stark contrast to Percy's immaculate appearance.

Percival closed the door behind him and moved to sit opposite Owl. “I’ve got news. And it’s good news.”

Owl’s lips twisted into a bitter smile. “Good news? Doubt there’s any of that left for me, brother.”

“Listen to me. I’ve been working on something—something that might not only keep you out of prison but give you a chance to start over,” Percival said earnestly, leaning forward trying to capture his brother’s gaze. Owl however just kept staring at the ceiling.

Owl scoffed. “Start over? Percy, look at me. My career, my reputation— I've ruined everything. What’s left to start over?”

Percival's tone remained insistent. “Listen, I've pulled every string, leveraged all my influence and called in every last favour I had and I’ve managed to arrange a deal. A deal that would keep you from having to go to prison. It’s unconventional, but it’s an opportunity.”

Owl replied with a bitter edge to his voice. "What kind of opportunity? One that changes the past?" His gaze was both cynical and disinterested.

"No, not the past," Percy replied, undeterred by Owl's skepticism. "But possibly the future. It’s an alternative to prison. A kind of public service, but not what you might expect."

Owl finally turned to look at his brother. "Public Service? You mean like community service? Cleaning streets, painting walls? Teaching little kids not to kill their fathers?"

"More significant than that," Percy said, leaning forward. "Military service, with a specific unit—Task Force 141, under the command of Captain Jonathan Price."

Owl laughed. "Military? Percy, you’ve gone mad. Me, in the military? Don't be ridiculous."

"Listen *redacted*. It’s this or likely a very long time in prison, maybe even life. And we both know how that would most likely end for you. Captain Price is offering you a chance to make something out of the mess you’ve created for yourself. This unit isn’t conventional; they operate in the shadows, where the rules are different.", Percy explained patiently.

Owl's laughter died down, replaced by a skeptical frown. "You’re actually serious?"

"Completely serious," Percy affirmed. "I’ve pulled every string, talked to every contact I have. This is real, and it's your best shot."

Owl ran a hand through his unkempt hair, taking a deep breath. The idea was ludicrous. "So I just agree to become a soldier, and all is forgiven?"

"Not forgiven," Percy corrected gently. "A chance for redemption. Your skills, your intelligence—used for something bigger than you or me. It would mean your freedom, in a way. At least you wouldn’t waste away in a cell."

 “And if I say no?”, Owl asked, still with a skeptical expression.

“If you say no, the trial proceeds. With the evidence stacked against you...” Percival let the sentence hang, the implication clear. Owl would be tried for murder and most certainly be convicted.

Owl sat up, his mind racing. The prospect of prison terrified him; he knew he wouldn't survive it. But joining the military seemed insane. This bizarre alternative was almost too good to be true, yet here it was. "And if I say yes? What then? I just pack up and become G.I. Joe?"

“As soon as you say yes, I’ll make the arrangements. You’ll need to meet with Captain Price, go through some formalities, but... you’re essentially in, if you want it.” Percival looked at Owl expectantly.

Owl glanced around the cramped, chaotic space that had been his refuge and his prison. Slowly, he nodded. "Alright. I’ll do it. I don’t have anything to lose anyway."

Percival let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding: "Alright, I’ll take care of everything.”

[aqours]

hi i'm gonna rant about rwby for like the first time in 6 years

ok i'm gonna rant about how this season didn't matter + Ruby's suicide attempt (because yes that's what it was) hi i haven't been involved in this fandom since like fucking season 3 ended

so at the end of the day Jaune is back to not being old and Ruby didn't become Ruby 2. this is slightly better than my predictions because i FULLY anticipated Ruby post-ascension would essentially become a new character that would also just fully be one of Jaune's cheerleaders down to her core so that Jaune could fully replace Ruby as the mc once and for all

i can't tell if it's better or worse that the 2+ year wait for RWBY fans and the end result is an entire season where NOTHING happened. there are no lasting consequences. it was a waste of fucking time and it's clear they genuinely thought the Justice League movie, which was based on a crossover comic that literally nobody liked would be what would save RWBY, a show produced by a company that is in incredibly hot water that prooooooobably wants to wash their hands of it by now. instead, just as the comic was dogshit, the movie was also dogshit. there's not even a scene to hype up a potential season 10 lmao

i genuinely think they were betting all their money on the Justice League movie and oops it's gonna sell like dogshit

and what gets to me is like. the fact NOTHING mattered. i thought for SURE that they'd keep Punished "Venom" Jaune because it makes him look more like Miles or that they would kill off Ruby as we have known her to make Ruby 2 again to make Jaune the new mc as Miles has clearly wanted for ages so there would be lasting consequences but there isn't? the entire thing was actually the equivalent of those like, old filler arcs Naruto and Bleach used to have back before the industry started preferring anime seasons over the show never stopping and its BAFFLING

and all for what? suicide analogies? i actually saw someone be like "WHY IS IT THE MOST MEDIA ILLITERATE PEOPLE BECOME RWBY CRITICS anyways it's clearly not a metaphor for ascension because the ever after people-" yes for THEM its not fucking suicide. for the people native to this world returning to the tree and being reborn is not suicide. that's how their world works. they're born for purposes. they fulfill those purposes. they can keep doing what they do as long as they want but? there's no stigma for THEM to chose to end their current existences so they can be reborn as something else. a scene i actually REALLY liked was when Weiss was like it IS really weird, to them, because they are NOT native to this world and thus it's such a bizarre alien aspect. and that Jaune was kind of forcing their worldview on the Paper Pleasers who were clearly OK with it. in the context of the native inhabitants of the people of the Ever After the context of ending your life so you can be reborn is not harmful to them- it's a NATURAL part of their world and that's OK! it's weird to them, to us, but that's OK! it's a fantasy fairy tale world that works differently than the real world and Remnant with a COMPLETELY different philosophy surrounding death. when you know for sure you'll be reborn as something else in a fictional setting, the philosophies and morals of death can change. that's fine.

in the context of RUBY it was suicide. in the context of RUBY ROSE who is NOT native to this world it was a suicide attempt. she was MISERABLE. she was depressed. Yang fucking stepped in front of Blake and glared at her like an enemy. Ruby was at her most horrific mental state yet and was completely ignored by everyone until it was too late. Neo actively manifested physical trauma in front of her until Ruby reached such a breaking point after seeing her mouse friend be killed she actively decided she wanted to end her existence as Ruby Rose. she did not want to keep being herself. Ruby decided that for her existence as Ruby Rose was completely destroyed and she became somebody new with no memories of her past that it was preferable to being alive as she was now. the sheer brutal reality is that if Neo had handed her a rope instead? probably the same result.

Ruby committed suicide in front of her best friends and five minutes later they were smiling and hugging and basically saying well maybe she'll come back BETTER maybe it was a good thing she did that what the fuck

nothing in this season mattered. it was a fucking filler season. nothing of long-term consequence happened. clearly the writing team fucking loved 13 reasons why and you know what i don't judge for shit like that but why was it in RWBY. why did this show of all things do this weird suicide thing with Ruby and present it as a good thing. "she was taking her medicine" no Yang was fucking HORRIFIED to see it. they just justified it like ten minutes later. she committed suicide and everyone was like "well maybe that's not so bad actually" and then it went from "she committed suicide" to "it was a suicide attempt" instead.

nothing mattered except that we know clearly 13 reasons why is the writer's favorite show. it's obvious that this was a filler season and instead all of the actual manpower and effort went into that movie in the hopes that it'd attract DC fans to the fandom in the vain hopes that the DC fans + bumblebee canon now would be enough to save it. please for the love of god let it die

[zot3-flopped]

here’s something about Cages that bothered me when I followed her (I stopped a while back). She frequently says “talk to me besties” whenever she is bored, even though she routinely mentions that she has hundreds of unanswered asks sitting in her inbox. She uses her readers to entertain her when she wants mental stimulation. And it has to be chat-like, in real time. She won’t go back though old asks because she won’t be guaranteed immediate responses. So her followers waste their time sending her stuff that she will never reply to.

Very bizarre. Why doesn't she just text her real friends? I guess because at 10am on a weekday they're actually working, unlike her. Sometimes I think she's a retired mom in her 60s with all the time in the world and the photos she posts are of her daughter. A 30 year old working in Manhattan wouldn't be able to spend the amount of time she does online during the day.