#keep your own sanity as a priority of course

[lololollywrites]

Yes. This exactly. I once had a 40-minute conversation at my doorway with two Morman missionaries that were my age (which, at the time, was 20 - a senior in college living in an off-campus apartment). I think there's a reason door-to-door proselytizers are always young; their elders are trying to engender sympathy in the public. And it works, but for the wrong reasons. Their age didn't make me want to convert, but it did make me empathetic. This overrode my anger. I listened to what they had to say and respectfully shared my perspective as an agnostic atheist who still has a spiritual side. They were fascinated, and just so so happy to talk. They didn't leave me a pamphlet because they respected my wishes. They even thanked me for the best conversation they'd had with someone outside the Church (and I'm not trying to compliment myself - I don't always have that kind of patience, but it came easily that day). They approached me in earnest rather than out of hate or condescension, and that made the difference for me.

It reminds me of a much more extreme example of how it's really open communication and respect on both sides that can change the world. If both sides are willing (which, admittedly, is rare) - because God, I generally do NOT want to speak to extreme conservative Republicans, nor do they want to listen to me), minds can open and people can move away from a place of hate.

There was a woman born into the Westboro Baptist Church, Megan Phelps-Roper, who was tasked with running the main Twitter page as the youngest and most tech-savvy member. She was curious and intelligent, but also truly believed that she was saving people's souls by posting the foulest sorts of tweets imaginable. She'd been convinced of this by her own family members, and - until then - had no way of acquiring knowledge that might contradict those teachings. Most of the comments she received were, understandably, incredibly angry, without any substance to the reply aside from (justified) insults that did nothing more than to prove, at least in her mind, that the rest of the world was rude and godless.

However, one of her consistent repliers was different. He detected her wittiness and passion, and would leave open, kind replies calmly disproving what she posted. Their back-and-forths eventually led to private communications and, after that, to legitimate friendship. He took her to have dinner at a Muslim family's house. He educated her about the world and sent resources. She started using her access to the internet as social media manager to educate herself. She's since left the Church and now speaks about the dangers of cults and the importance of reaching out to those who may be enmeshed in toxicity when you are willing, able, and safe to do so. Knowledge quite literally saved her. One kind person saved her.

I think we should all use our intuition and try to understand where others are coming from. Avoid those with, for lack of a better word, "bad vibes". Those who deliberately avoid knowledge. Those who are legitimately hateful. Those who may have chosen their perspective later in life, fully consciously and willingly. There are other people, however, who aren't lost causes. Who simply need to talk to one person outside of their toxic circle. I need to work on this too. It seems hopeless. Awful for our mental health. An uphill battle. But we can't give up, either.

At this point, I'm not really talking about Mormons... though there's overlap. I'm talking about Conservatives. Tories. Fascist-leaning individuals. Because if they continue to hate us, their hate tends to be much more dangerous than ours.

[mrsshabana]

𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐨𝐨 𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞

ꔫ‧₊ Content Gyutaro x female!reader, age difference, angst, fluff, daddy issues, mommy issues, modern au ꔫ‧₊ Note 5k words. I want to thank everyone who was so excited for this fic, your kind words really encouraged me to write so much! I hope you enjoy it and keep an eye out for chapter two ♡ ✧:･ﾟ→ Part two ✧:･ﾟ→ Part three

This is the most exciting thing that’s happened in Gyutaro’s pathetic life since his sister was accepted into college. 

His life is nothing special really, and it never has been. Always taking care of his little sister was his number one priority so his needs and wants were always put on the back burner. Not like he had much of a choice anyway. With a face like that, how are you supposed to get anywhere in life? He’s thirty-five and has never had a romantic partner, but no surprise there. His personality is unpleasant and he doesn’t have much going for him. His job is alright and he can afford to support himself and his sister but that’s about it. 

By now he’s come to accept the fact that some things just aren’t in the cards for him. Things like a wife and maybe even kids. As he got older he found himself longing for these things more and more. Especially when he witnessed all of his friends getting married and starting families of their own. But now at his age, no woman would want to get with him, let alone start a family.

At first, he was mad at the world and everyone in it. It wasn’t fair that he was denied love just because he had a few spots on his face, crooked teeth, and was a bit rough around the edges. The jealousy and anger ate at him for many years, causing his personality to become bitter and cold. On the outside, he seems like the kind of guy who wouldn’t care about love, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. Since he grew up without receiving any love from his mother, it was always something that he craved, even as an adult.

But he grew up, and he had no choice but to realize this was his reality and there was no changing it. It was hard to accept, but he’s finally come to peace with it. At least he has Ume, and honestly, he’s grateful for that. 

But now, you came into his life and things are beginning to take an interesting turn. 

You’re Ume’s friend from college, she’s a year older than you but you got to know her well in one of your math classes. Ume hates math so she waited until her senior year to take it, which she is starting to regret now. The only upside to the situation is that she met you.

Having gotten pretty close to Ume over the course of the semester, she would often invite you over to her place. You’ve heard her talk about her brother before but you had never met him since he was usually at work when you came over. But when you saw him for the first time, he wasn’t what you had expected. He looked a lot different than the image you had in your mind and he was a lot less friendly than Ume had described him. But even though most of the time he was in a bad mood, he’d be polite to you for the brief moments he was around. 

The first thing you noticed about him was how tall he was and how deep and raspy his voice sounded. It was oddly attractive, especially when paired with his messy black hair. You knew he was older than Ume but he didn’t look that old. The only thing that maybe signified his age were the dark circles around his eyes, probably from being overworked. 

Gyutaro never expected to get close to his little sister’s best friend. It’s something he never would have considered, but your actions are causing him to rethink his stance on your almost nonexistent relationship.

.˚₊┈୨♡୧┈₊˚.

One night you’re studying over at Ume’s place again. The two of you sit in the dining room, with notebooks, pens, and textbooks spread across the table. Midterms are coming up so you’re trying really hard to get some studying done. Even though Ume keeps getting distracted and scrolling through TikTok.

You’ve almost lost your sanity with this study session when you hear the front door unlocking. 

Gyutaro, looking as tired as usual, walks into the house. Kicking off his shoes and throwing his bag on the floor. He barely even acknowledges you as he walks past saying, “Girls, can you please clean the table.”

“Mm hm,” Ume hums as she continues looking at her phone screen. 

He knows she isn’t going to do as he asks, but he always asks anyway. Today has been a long day and Gyutaro just wishes he could go to sleep but he knows he has a household to take care of. So he hurriedly rushes over to the bathroom and takes a quick shower. Coming out with messy damp hair and a towel wrapped around his waist. He goes straight to his bedroom, but you manage to catch a glimpse of him through the hall. 

The way his long hair sticks to his muscled shoulders and back distracts you. And even after he’s gone from your sight, the heavenly image is still stuck in your mind. 

“Will I ever get a break?” he thinks to himself as he puts on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, “As soon as I’m done cooking I’m passing out.” It’s only 8 pm but after another overtime shift, he’s pooped. Ume’s lucky he loves her so much, or else he would just make her eat a Lean Cuisine for dinner.

He doesn’t even bother to brush his hair and just heads straight towards the kitchen. But on his way, he’s met with something that surprises him. 

“You actually cleaned the table?” he says in shock.

“No, she did,” Ume points to you without even looking up from her phone. 

Gyutaro scowls and hits Ume in the back of the head with a rolled-up newspaper, “What’s the matter with you? It’s rude to make your guest clean!”

“Hey!! Cut it out!! I didn’t tell her to, she did it on her own!” Ume whines.

“Still, you should have cleaned it yourself,” he grumbles and throws the newspaper to the side, “Y/N, I’m sorry. Please stay for dinner, that’s the least I could offer you for helping my sister since she’s too lazy to do anything on her own.”

“No no, it’s ok! I don’t want to put more work on your plate -”

“I insist,” he smiles and begins preparing the ingredients. 

Ume pays no attention to the matter, as you admire her brother while he works away in the kitchen. Grabbing a beer from the fridge, he takes a sip and sighs before he begins washing some vegetables. 

You sit there and stare at his muscles, admiring the way they move along with noticing the tattoo on his upper arm. The way his hair falls in his face, and he tries to push it away with his wrist while his hands hold ingredients. 

This is something you’ve never had before. A man who takes care of you. It’s something new for you, and quite frankly you’re a bit jealous of Ume. It must be nice to have someone who takes care of her like Gyutaro does. Especially since your father was never around, it feels comforting being in this kind of atmosphere with Gyutaro and his sister. 

The loud clattering of metal hitting the floor snaps you out of the trance you were in. It seems that Gyutaro dropped a knife because he had almost fallen asleep. You can see his eyes closing slowly as he shakes his head in an attempt to wake himself up. Even though you barely know him, the sight makes you feel bad for him. He must be so exhausted, yet he’s determined to make dinner for his little sister. 

“Hey, do you need any help?” you ask as you walk into the kitchen. 

“N-no, thank you though.” He tries to brush you off and continue cooking but you stop him, grabbing his wrist and taking the utensils out of his hand. “It’s ok really, you seem exhausted. Plus I like cooking so it’s no biggie!” You smile and try to lead him away from the kitchen.

“What? No! You’re our guest it’d be rud-”

“Onii-chan just let her do it! She’s offering, stop being so stubborn!” Ume chimes in.

“Don’t worry, I don’t think you’re a bad host. You’ve been nothing but welcoming to me, I just want to help out,” you lead him over to the couch and force him to sit down, “Everyone deserves a break once in a while.”

“But I-” his sentence trails off as he watches you walk away, not giving him any say in the matter. He feels incredibly guilty for letting you cook. But his body is too tired to fight it, and you no longer hear any complaints from him.

Looking around the kitchen you scan what Gyutaro had set up. There’s a pot of boiling water on the stove, a pan with oil in it, some half-cut tomatoes, a box of pasta, and an unopened package of meat. You can only assume that he was trying to make spaghetti. Luckily for you, it’s easy enough and something you’ve made countless times before. 

After about 30 minutes you have all of the food prepared. You make a plate for yourself, Ume, and Gyutaro. 

“Thanks, Y/N!” Ume exclaims as she finally puts down her phone and takes her plate. 

Next, you walk over to Gyutaro to give him his food, but he’s already passed out on the couch. The bottle of beer still in his hand, half full. 

“Poor thing,” you whisper to yourself, “Guess it’ll just be Ume and I for now.” You take the plate to the table and eat with Ume, opting that it’s probably best to let Gyutaro sleep. 

.˚₊┈୨♡୧┈₊˚.

His stomach rumbles and his eyes are heavy as he slowly opens them, looking around at his surroundings. Confused for a moment as he forgot where he was. The living room is dark and quiet and he can’t quite remember why or how he fell asleep here. 

But then he looks over at the coffee table and remembers everything. His bottle is placed aptly beside a plate full of delicious looking pasta. Neatly wrapped in plastic wrap with a note reading, Enjoy! :)

“No way,” he mumbles as he tears off the plastic and begins to dig in. His eyes roll to the back of his head when the delicious food hits his tongue. Things taste so much better when someone else makes them. And honestly, he can’t recall how many years it’s been since someone has cooked him a meal. Five? Possibly ten? Either way, he savors the moment.

.˚₊┈୨♡୧┈₊˚.

That meal has been on Gyutaro’s mind for days now. Never forgetting the taste and the gratifying feeling of eating a meal that was carefully prepared by someone else. It was amazing. And you’ve been on his mind ever since that night.

He told Ume to thank you since he didn’t have your number, and he really hopes she actually did it and didn’t just blow him off like she usually does.

As he drives home from work he can’t help but think of how nice it would be to come home to one of your home-cooked meals. It’s become a fantasy of his to imagine this on his drives home after a long shift. The thought brings him some comfort even though he knows it will never become a reality.

And just as he was driving through downtown he saw someone familiar. It was you, standing beneath one of the street lights as a strange man loomed over you. He appeared to be talking to you, but your body language looked as if you were very uncomfortable with the situation. 

The strange man appeared to be around Gyutaro’s age and all he could think was, “C’mon man, you’re too old to be doing this shit to a young girl. You should know better.” He rolls his eyes and pulls over next to the sidewalk. 

With a deep, tired sigh, he gets out of the car and yells, “Hey Y/N! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” 

At first, the sudden voice calling out to you startles you, but as soon as you see that it’s Ume’s brother you feel like you’ve been saved. The strange man looks over at Gyutaro too, giving him a confused look.

“We’re gonna be late for that movie,” Gyutaro smiles as if everything is normal and walks up to you, “Oh, who’s this? Do I know this guy?”

“Uh n-no, I don’t think you know him,” you say nervously. 

Gyutaro nods and takes your hand, “Sorry man, but we gotta go. We’re gonna miss the premier if we don’t get going now.” 

The stranger seems convinced and walks off as Gyutaro leads you back to his car. Opening the door for you, as he watches the man walk away. Making sure he’s gone for good. 

You don’t hesitate to get into his car, a huge wave of relief washing over you once you’re safely inside. 

As soon as Gyutaro gets into the car he scolds you, “What the hell were you doing out here by yourself?” His eyes scan your form, and he notices you’re wearing a short dress.

“I was out with some friends,” you say shyly, “and I wanted to go home, but everyone else wanted to stay out…” 

He sighs and starts the car, “You can’t walk around like that, creepy guys are gonna flock towards you. It’s dangerous.”

“I know, I was so stupid for doing that… B-but thank you so much for helping me, Gyutaro! You really saved me there,” you feel tears well up in your eyes as you imagine what might have happened to you if Gyutaro never showed up. 

“Hey hey, it’s alright,” his expression softens, “You’re ok now, that’s all that matters. And from now on if you need a ride just call me, ok?”

“R-really? I don’t want to inconvenience you or anything…”

“Don’t worry about it, you’re Ume’s friend. I’d do it for Ume so I’d do it for you too. Besides, I work around here so it’s no big deal,” he smiles and hands you his phone so you can put your number in.

“Thanks. Ume’s really lucky to have a big brother like you,” you say as you finish creating your contact in his phone.

“I try my best I guess, heh if only Ume heard you say that. Anyway, where do you live?”

“Oh, right! It’s super close to here,” you type the directions into his phone navigation, “I really owe you for this, Gyutaro! What can I do to make it up to you?”

“Wh-what? No no no, you don’t have to do anything,” he gets a bit flustered as he begins driving towards your place. 

“Come on! You did so much for me, it’s the least I could do! Ooh, how about I cook something for you?” You raise your eyebrows and smile, trying to convince him. 

When he hears your plea, it’s like his prayers were answered. 

“... well, I can’t say no to that.”

.˚₊┈୨♡୧┈₊˚.

The long-awaited day has finally come. The day that you will bring over some home-cooked meals to Gyutaro’s house. He’s been anticipating this ever since you promised it to him.

You come over holding tons of containers of food, much more than he had expected. 

“Woah, let me help you,” he says as he holds the front door open and takes one of the bags out of your hand.

“Ah, thanks. I didn’t realize how much food I made until I had to pack it all up,” you laugh and walk into his home. Placing the food on the table, you neatly snack boxes of prepared meals. 

“What’s all this?” he asks, a bit confused. He was expecting you to bring over a big container full of food, not a bunch of small ones. 

“I know you work a lot and stuff. So, I thought it’d be better if I packed everything up into individual meals so you can just grab them and take them to work. Less prep work for you. I hope that’s alright…”

Gyutaro is truly left speechless, unable to believe that you not only put so much effort into this but also so much consideration as well. Still in disbelief, he takes one of the neatly packed boxes and opens it up. Inside he’s met with a delicious meal separated neatly, and even a small dessert tucked into the side. The sight is beautiful, but the smell is what really makes him salivate. 

“Wow,” he smiles, “I-I don’t know what to say. This is amazing, thank you.” 

He begins to choke up. After so many years of taking care of his sister, always worrying about her needs, caring for her, stepping up and being that guardian that she needed, never once did someone stop to ask him what he wanted. Let alone go out of their way to take care of him. And for once, just once, he gets a taste of what it feels like to be cared for. Nurtured. And it’s a feeling he wishes he never had to let go of.

All of the emotions he’s kept in for so long finally pour out of him. Your kindness and consideration force his walls to crumble. And his eyes begin to water as he pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes in an attempt to stop his tears. 

“Hey, are you alright?” You ask as you immediately notice that something isn’t right.

It takes him a moment to compose himself, “I-I’m ok,” he rasps, “Just… I really appreciate you doing this. It’s been so long since someone has done something for me…”

“Well, you deserve it,” you smile and try to comfort him by rubbing his back, “I can tell you work really hard. My mom is the same way. So I understand.”

“Thanks,” he smiles and quickly composes himself, “A-Anyway, I’m going to try one right now. It smells great.” He quickly tries to change the subject partially because he’s embarrassed, but also because he genuinely cannot wait to taste your cooking again.

The food still feels warm so he rushes into the kitchen to grab a fork, and he sits at the table and digs in. Immediately as the food hits his tongue he lets out a groan of satisfaction. 

“Mmph, ooh my god,” he says right before he shoves another spoonful into his mouth, “so good!”

“I’m glad you like it,” you smile and sit beside him at the table, “These recipes are super easy and budget-friendly, so I can give them to you if you want.”

“Please! Mmph, that’d be great,” he swallows another big bite, “Where’d you learn to cook so well?”

“I just learned over time. It’s always just been my mom and I, my dad was never around,” you sigh, “So I kinda had to learn how to take care of myself since my mom always had two jobs. I would always make food for us to ease her workload. And I’ve always enjoyed cooking so I never minded.”

“Wait, for real?” he looks surprised, “My mom was never around! Man, it fucking sucks doesn’t it?”

“So you understand how I feel!” you smile despite talking about something upsetting, “So, your dad was the one that raised you?”

“Basically,” he nods as he licks his fork clean, “My mom wouldn’t let my dad come around much, even though she wasn’t around much herself. I was pretty much on my own till my mom  died and my dad took us in.”

Watching him talk about his past, you get the impression that it’s something he doesn’t often talk about. His body language alone is enough to tell you that. But the two of you feel some type of connection having shared a similar childhood experience.

“Your dad sounds like a good man,” you smile, “I think he’d be very proud of you.”

He looks up at you, his eyes shining with a mixture of sadness and appreciation. “Thanks… he really was the best. But sometimes I just wish I could have had a normal family.”

“Yeah I totally get it,” you sigh, “That’s why I always told myself I’d try to give my future kid the best life I can.  I want to give them the childhood I never had…” You trail off, thinking about the future you hope will become a reality one day. 

“Exactly!” he shouts, “That’s exactly what I told myself too! I always wanted a family so I could do things right.”

He seems excited at first but his expression quickly shifts to one of sadness. 

“But it’s too late for me to have a family,” he continues, looking down as he opens up about one of his biggest failures, “Oh well, if Ume ever has kids I’ll just try to be the best uncle I can.”

“Why would you say it’s too late?” you tilt your head to the side, confused.”

“Y/N, I’m thirty-five years old. I’m too old to start a family… Besides most women my age are done having kids. Not that any woman would want to be with me anyways.” He frowns, being reminded of how he failed to fulfill one of the only dreams he’s ever had. 

“Why not just start a family with a young girl, like me?” You ask without completely realizing what you’re saying. 

“Wh-what?” his eyes widen, completely taken aback by your statement. Could you be insinuating what he thinks you’re insinuating? He’s not sure whether you’re just naive or completely delusional. 

“W-Well um,” you blush as you begin to realize what you’ve said, “I think you’re a really great guy. Any woman would be lucky to-”

“Get out,” he cuts you off. 

“I’m sorry-”

“GET OUT!” He raises his voice, striking fear into you to the point where you feel your eyes begin to water. 

You feel utterly embarrassed and ashamed. Just when you were starting to get close to him too, you had to say something stupid to ruin it all. Honestly, you have no idea what you were thinking. You will admit you did have a crush on him, so maybe your heart just got excited and took a risky leap of faith. But unfortunately for you, it backfired. 

Without another word you rush out of his house as fast as you can, balling your eyes out. 

.˚₊┈୨♡୧┈₊˚. 

It’s been a few days, and Gyutaro has been ignoring your texts. They stopped coming after that first day, and even though he didn’t respond he still read them. Reading your apologies over and over. He couldn’t get the situation out of his head no matter how hard he tried. So he decided maybe he needed an outside opinion. 

He finds himself sitting at a bar, drinking a beer. Rubbing his rough hand across the stubble that’s grown on his face as he’s been too stressed lately to bother shaving. Honestly, he looks pretty rough. He’s caught up in his self-sabotaging thoughts when he hears a familiar voice call out to him.

“Gyutaro! How’ve you been, man?”

He turns around with a smile on his face, “Hey Kai, what’s up?” He stands and gives his best friend a side hug. 

“Gyutarooooo, do I get a hug too?” an annoying voice chimes, a voice that instantly gives Gyutaro a headache. This voice could only belong to one person. 

“I hope you don’t mind that I invited him too,” Kaigaku laughs nervously.

“Douma…” Gyutaro deadpans.

“What? Aren’t you happy to see me?” Douma smiles wide, giving Gyutaro a one-sided hug. “So, spill the details! Kai said you had some juicy gossip to talk about!” He says as he sits beside him at the bar, placing his hand under his chin and batting his long eyelashes. 

Kaigaku takes a seat on the other side of Gyutaro and mumbles, “Maybe this was a mistake.”

“It’s fine,” Gyutaro sighs and takes a drink from his bottle, “I really just wanted some advice. Just promise you won’t make it weird.”

“When do I ever make things weird?” Douma asks. 

Gyutaro just stares at him, thinking of all of the times he has indeed made things weird. 

“Come on man, just spit it out already!” Kaigaku nudges his shoulder. 

Gyutaro groans and slumps over in his seat, “Alright alright. So, there’s this girl-”

“A girl?!” Both of his friends say in unison. 

“Shut up!” Gyutaro growls, knowing exactly why his friends are so shocked. Because out of all of the years they’ve known him, he’s never once brought up a girl. 

“Anyway,” he continues, “There’s a girl I kind of like… she’s really sweet and we have a lot in common but…” he trails off, hesitant to tell them the truth, “She’s only twenty-one…”

Kaigaku chokes on his drink.

“I don’t see an issue,” Douma says, genuinely confused.

“Of course, you don’t,” Gyutaro mumbles under his breath. 

“How the hell did you get into this situation?” Kaigaku coughs.

“It wasn’t on purpose! I didn’t pursue her at all!” Gyutaro scowls, “Listen, she’s one of Ume’s friends. She comes over a lot and she’s been really nice to me. She even cooked a bunch of meals for me too…”

“And? Spill it, Shabana!” Douma pouts, getting impatient. 

“AND, we were talking about what we want for our future. I told her I wanted a family one day but I’m too old… and she said why don’t I have a family with a young girl like her. I immediately told her to leave. I’m starting to think maybe I overreacted…”

“Well, girls that age are very fertile!” Douma chimes as if his statement was completely innocent.

“STOP!” Gyutaro shouts, “That’s fucking weird, man! Don’t say it like that!” 

“Maybe I shouldn’t have invited him…” Kaigaku mumbles. 

“Hey, it’s true! I am a gynecologist after all, it’s just medical facts! And she’s right, having children with someone your age will be much more difficult and there could be complications!” Douma asserts confidently.

“The fact that you’re a gynecologist disturbs me,” Kaigaku says. 

“Me too,” Gyutaro adds. 

“Come on guys! It’s not as weird as you think. Why would it be so wrong to date her?”

“For starters, she’s fourteen fucking years younger than me! That’d be creepy right…? I don’t want people thinking I’m a weirdo or a creep,” he frowns, starting to feel like maybe he is a creep for even considering something with you. 

Kaigaku takes a sip of his drink, thinking long and hard about what advice he should give his friend. Especially since Douma is useless. 

“I mean, it’s not that bad,” he shrugs, “At the end of the day you’re both consenting adults. And since when did you care about what other people think of you anyway?”

“You have a point,” Gyutaro replies, “But she should live her life instead of wasting her time with an old guy like me.”

“First of all you aren’t even that old,” Kai rolls his eyes, “And second of all, she’s an adult who is fully capable of making her own decisions. If she wants to be with you, then she wants it for a reason. Maybe she wants a guy who is at a more stable point in his life. Who knows?”

“Exactly, Kai’s right. I see age gaps much larger than this all the time, it’s more common than you think,” Douma adds. 

“And besides, it would only be creepy if you were talking to her when she was a minor,” Kaigaku states, “Like if you’re an adult talking to a minor, then wait till they’re an adult to pursue them romantically it’s a little creepy if you ask me. But you didn’t even know her at all until now. So don’t worry man. You aren’t creepy or weird for liking this girl.”

Gyutaro feels a wave of relief wash over him as he listens to his friend’s explanation. It's the first thing he’s heard that actually made him feel a bit better about the situation. “So, you really think it’s ok for me to pursue her?”

“Hell yeah! Be happy, man. I know you’re not the kind of guy to go after a girl just because she’s young. She sounds like a really nice girl, and I’m happy someone finally sees what a great guy you are.”

“Thanks, Kai,” Gyutaro smiles, “Alright, I guess I’ll go for it.”

Gyutaro feels a newfound confidence overtake him. His friends are right, he shouldn’t be so caught up in the details when the fact of the matter is that a really amazing woman is interested in him for the first time in his life. And he cannot let this opportunity slide, as it may be the last chance he has at happiness. 

“Who knows, maybe she’s one of my patients!” Douma chimes in out of nowhere.

“Shut up, Douma! God, I can’t take you anywhere!” Kai growls. 

.˚₊┈୨♡୧┈₊˚.

That night you receive a text from Gyutaro, “Do you want to go to the botanical gardens with me this weekend?”

When you first read the text you had to pinch yourself in case you were dreaming. Why would he say that all of a sudden? Did he suddenly have a change of heart? Or maybe he’s inviting you out just so he can tell you off in person. 

You aren’t sure which one, but you’ve been so stressed over this situation that you’ll do anything to make up with him. So you hastily respond, “Yes! I’d love to :)”

Immediately you regret how eager you sound in the text, thinking that it might make Gyutaro think you're even more childish. But in reality it makes him smile knowing that someone is excited to see him for once.

“Ok. I’ll send you the details,” he responds a minute later.

Is this a date? That’s the only question that keeps replaying in your mind. A date with Gyutaro, your best friend’s older brother. The whole thing feels taboo, but you’d be lying if you said that it didn’t make you feel even more excited.

Taglist: @gyusimp @mistyychann @cherrysxuya @angelicsaiko @hoshigafuru @matsukaah @merryclaus @whisperhug97 @dawn-rays-dingo

(I tagged people who showed interest in my previous posts. If you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist just let me know. The next chapter will have smut so if you want to be tagged make sure you have your age listed on your blog ♡)

[therenlover]

Balm (A Medieval!Helmut Zemo x Maid!Reader Fic)

A/N: Guess who's back from a 2-year hiatus and dragging Zemo back into style with me kicking and screaming? ME! ME! ME! More explanation is to come about why I've been gone and what the plan is now, but for the moment, enjoy the most-requested unfinished fic I had from before my mysterious disappearance <3

Synopsis: Your forbidden dalliance with Baron Zemo, the lord of the house, has finally landed you in the dungeons, subject to the whims of the guards and the endless passage of time. As your sanity slips away, you wonder what will come first, your execution or the Baron's return?

Tags: Hurt/Comfort Heavy On The Comfort, Reunions, Medieval!Zemo, Maid!Reader, Dungeons, Psychological Trauma

Rating: M (+18)

Warnings: References to Recent Sexual Assault and Psychological Torture (Male on Female, No Graphic Descriptions), Imprisonment, PTSD Symptoms **Stay safe and avoid this fic if you need to, this was a personal project made to help me cope with my own feelings about my trauma**

Word Count: 5,800~

_________

“Where is the girl?”

Sharp voices, some unknown and some chillingly familiar, boomed against the dark walls that closed in on me by the minute, gaining ground with every agonizingly long second. They were still far out, at least a minute away from the wrought-iron door of my cell. Somehow, though, I couldn’t bring myself to care. No, not anymore. If my execution was finally rapidly approaching with the sound of armor and thundering feet, it would be much more to my benefit than anything else the men approaching could possibly do to me. Or what they had already done.

The thought sent a shiver down my bare form despite the hardness of my heart.

Was there any torture, commonplace or strange, worse than what I had already endured at the hands of men who considered themselves to be bringers of justice and keepers of peace? I could not fathom it. Even a painful, slow death in the iron maiden would be preferable to the time I had been confined to the dungeons of the manor I’d once called home.

A soundless laugh, weak and bitter and halfway to a rib-crushing cough, escaped my cracked lips at the irony of it all. I tasted blood with every swallow.

Yes, I decided death was a welcome friend a long time ago, even if with it came the moment I dreaded most of all. In the pitch darkness, I let my eyes fall closed, and somewhere down the hall, the cacophony of voices grew louder.

“Why was I not informed of this the moment I returned to the manor?”

“I assure you, my lord, we thought it for the best-“

“For the best? You ignoramus-“

My lord.

The words stirred nameless feelings in my chest. Screaming, sobbing, nameless feelings that pulled the dregs of my humanity back to the stony surface of my strong facade.

How long had it been since those words had left my lips, a veneration above all others reserved only for the man I loved, despite their demands? I couldn’t even wager a guess. There were no windows in the dank room that served as my personal hell, just darkness and torchlight. The only way of keeping track of the suns and moons that passed was through the changing of the guards, and I had come to anticipate those for an entirely different reason. Counting the days had ceased being a priority long ago. It was much more important to count the passing shifts in order to prepare for the true punishment, doled out by faceless men in near-identical leathers. Here I was little more than the Baron’s abandoned whore, and rather than counting days I counted the cycling of warm bodies in the frigid underground air.

Horror and shame and rage coursed hot in my veins at the thought.

Surely this amount of men could only mean I was to be escorted to your execution, but I wondered in the darkness: Would they defile me one last time before dragging me out into the square, heavy hands and covetous eyes taking and taking and taking until there was no chance of forgetting what they had stolen from me, even as I took my final breaths? Or would they feign justice instead, slipping my bruised body back into the rough prisoner’s uniform that had remained crumpled in the corner far beyond my reach since the first hours I’d spent at their mercy? Either way, their impure actions would be evident when they dragged me out to the town square, which was a small blessing amongst the terrors that awaited. Maybe it would not be clear to the public, but the Baron… he would know.

He had known every inch of me. He would have to know.

He would see the marks, so similar to those left by his own fingers and teeth and lips and palms, and he would know the truth of the cruelty I’d faced, but he wouldn’t turn away from the sight of my broken body. It was his job as a crowned head to witness my death to the end the same as any other prisoner, no matter how gruesome or horrible an end I met. Perhaps that was to be his end of the punishment for the beautiful crime we’d shared. Perhaps, in a turn of events that I could only now imagine in the depths of my despair, he wouldn’t feel pain or punishment at all. My head could roll to his feet with no more than a tired sigh from his royal lips.

None of those possibilities really mattered though. Nothing mattered because nothing could be changed. Not anymore.

Distantly, I wondered if they would hang me, burn me, or separate me from my head. If I was especially unlucky, which I usually was, they might choose to make an example out of me and choose to draw and quarter me instead. The thoughts hung heavy in my mind, and all the while the end of my life drew closer and closer, marked by angered shouts and the gentle glow of torchlight, growing brighter and brighter in the corner of my sight.

I closed my eyes to the oncoming reality.

Seeing their reaction to me, strung up nude and probably still dripping with spend, would be too much. instead, I allowed myself to listen. That was the one sense they could not sully or steal away from me. Besides, if I kept my eyes open I would be forced to behold the faces of the guards, and I would much rather not have features to put to the nameless, faceless shadows that haunted both my nightmares and every waking hour. I had managed to keep them anonymous in my mind until now, and I would prefer to keep them that way until the end.

Something clanged a few feet away from the cell door, loud and tinny.

A voice called out from beside the noise, low and raspy. Familiar in the worst of ways. “My lord, what are you doing down here?”

“Where is she?” A new voice replied, “Which cell?”

Or… perhaps the voice wasn’t new. It rattled something within me, and slowly my memories regained some of their clarity. His voice was louder than I was used to hearing it, rougher around the edges than I remembered, but it was Helmut’s voice nonetheless. A weak smile spread across my bloodied lips despite my internal protestations.

He had come.

For what reason I still couldn’t say, but he was right there. He had come back and he was searching for me. The sound of him, his heavy footsteps and thunderous timbre close enough that I could almost imagine grasping the sounds from the air… I could not begin to describe the strange feeling bubbling up through my chest at his very presence, so close and yet so far. Still, I did not dare make a noise, I doubted I could manage a shout or even a whimper if I tried to, and instead, I listened as intently as I could.

The frantic conversation outside only grew louder as the men approached my cell. It was hard to fully focus on it. Through my hazy delirium of starvation and pain and hope, I could only focus on the image of his face in my mind, smiling brightly down at me in the firelight as he had so many times before. His touch was a phantom on my burning skin. It was a memory so close to reality that if I kept my eyes squeezed shut, it was almost indiscernible from the real thing, down to the bruises on my hips and the ache in my legs. Still, it was a fantasy, the final beautiful dream of a scullery maid who had taken too much from this cruel world to be allowed to continue to live in it.

I relished in every single moment I was gifted with him; past and present, real and imagined. There was little else I could possibly do but wait and hope, and hope was a dangerous thing.

“I’m afraid you’re too late, Baron. She is… no longer with us,”

The words made all the warmth I’d gathered up through my dreaming turn sour and cold in an instant. This was why hope was such a dangerous game for me to play. It comes just as easily as it goes, but it never leaves without taking something with it.

“What?”

“Her womanly constitution was simply too weak for the dungeons, my lord. We did everything by the book, I assure you of that, but she couldn’t manage it past the first week. She. Perished in her sleep,”

The guard's voice was so sickeningly genuine that even I almost believed him.

“That cannot be true. I refuse to believe it is true,”

“Aye, my lord. Any of us men could verify,”

Metal slammed against metal in the distance as shouting began in earnest, but I couldn’t focus on any of it. No, my mind was far, far away as I pondered the consequences of what I had witnessed.

I began to think that they never intended to let me die. At least not in the way I had been meant to. Instead, they would kill my soul and rob me of my sanity until my heart simply gave out from the horror of it all, hidden away in the bowels of the Baron’s manor where screams of pain and wails for help would fall on deaf ears. No one would come looking for me again. No one would even know I had survived. A sob escaped my mouth, breathy and broken. Would the tortures never cease?

A sudden silence followed.

Helmut spoke again in a quiet, measured tone. “What was that noise,”

I sniffled as the faceless man outside the door clambered to cover up whatever had caught the Baron’s attention.

“What, my lord?”

“That noise. What. Was. It.” The T seemed to be spat from the baron’s quivering lips. “I thought you said no others remained in these cells as we descended, so what could possibly be making noise?”

“I can assure you it was-“

A slam echoed through the dungeon. “Tell me the truth, or I shall imprison you long enough to find out when someone of your… constitution would perish under these conditions.”

There was silence.

No one spoke or moved an inch. I couldn’t even manage a whimper in that soundless eternal moment that seemed to stretch on and on into the oblivion that surrounded me on all sides. Creaking armor finally cut through it all, breaking through the void, and like a spark on dry kindling, everything burned quickly from there. Something clattered to the ground, metal rattled, boots stomped and keys clanged on their loop. Still, I could not bring myself to open my eyes, even as the great iron door of my cells groaned open and exposed my bare body to a new rush of freezing air from the hall.

All at once, silence prevailed again, cut only by the wails of air rushing down from the stairway.

I couldn’t lift my head; it was far too heavy on my trembling shoulders with my grubby, matted hair falling like a filthy curtain in front of my face. I didn’t need to lift it, though, to know Helmut was there in the doorway, beholding me in all my shame. Another sob cut its way through my throat and body at the thought. I was so consumed in my pain that I almost missed the sound of soft footsteps on the packed earthen floor beneath me.

“Schatz?” He whispered. I winced at the tenderness of the nickname he had once grown so fond of. It was like I could slowly feel him comprehending the level of my suffering the longer I sat, eyes screwed shut. If I stayed just like that, unmoving and unseeing, I might be able to imagine it all away like a dream. That was easier than the alternative. He had finally seen me as what I had always been: nothing. It was only a matter of time before his kindness soured too.

Despite the gruesome scene before him, though, he did not turn away. He did not run.

Instead, the Baron took a few tentative steps forward. I could practically feel his presence before me. Then he inhaled, sharp, but stayed silent for a moment more. If I hadn’t dared to know him better, I would have thought he had reached out to touch me before choosing another course of action. He couldn’t have done that, though. There was no possible way he still cared for me, especially after seeing me in such a state of filth and shame. Right?

“Oh, my sweetest one,” Helmut murmured, “what have they done to you?”

And just like that, I shattered at his slightest word.

“M-my lord, I…” my throat burned in protestation, a thousand red-hot needles thrust with every breathy whisper, “I have failed you. Punish me how you see fit,” In a sudden rush of pain, it was as though I could feel every bruise and slice on my body, every aching muscle in my arms screaming for release from the manacles above my head. I didn’t dare strain against the restraints, though, because even with Helmut present I couldn’t fathom what might happen if I stepped out of line knowing the guards were just steps away at the door. Despite the fear, it was excruciating.

As if he could sense your agony, the Baron jumped into action. “Someone remove her shackles! Now!” He shouted back towards the door.

I could hear a bit of shuffling behind him, trembling as the noises grew closer and louder. There were people with us now, people who might witness firsthand the impropriety of my relationship with the lord of the house. People who would use that against me in the worst of ways. A whimper escaped my lips at the thought as I could feel them lean in to undo my hands from the bolts on the wall. Though no one else would possibly notice, the man above me still smelled like sex.

Helmut was a constant tether to sanity through the terror. A distraction from the world outside the two of us in each following moment.

“You have not failed me, little one,” he said, “In fact, I’m incredibly proud of how strong you must have been.” His voice was soft, one only ever used for me. It felt almost too good to be true.

I shook my head, ignoring the sharp pains that shot through my neck, eyes still firmly closed. I couldn’t allow myself to hope. Not yet. “Why have you come here?” I begged, “We cannot be seen together. Your reputation…”

He sighed softly, and a familiar hand came to rest on my knee. I jumped from the alien sensation at first but corrected myself quickly. It was just Helmut. I knew those calloused palms by touch alone, as sure as I knew my own. Those hands were just as incapable of hurting me now as they had been when I first held them in the soft lamplight of the harvest festival so many moons ago.

“I am the head of this manor and the Baron of these lands. If I wish to protect the woman I love, I am well within my rights to do so,”

“Don’t,” I protested.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t give me hope. Not now, not so soon before we’ll be parted again,”

With a loud clunk, my wrists were released from their manacles.

After however long I had been imprisoned in this dark, wet hell, the muscles in my arms had weakened considerably. What once was toned muscle from years of labor now sat taut against bone, withered away with time and disuse. I could do little more than let them drop to my sides as the Baron rubbed calming circles into my knee with his thumb.

Why couldn’t he see how much it would hurt to be apart from him after this agony? How allowing me to dream now would only mean those dreams could be crushed when he returned to his life above. I had committed a crime, after all. Even if the punishment I had endured until this moment ended, I would still serve the rest of my treasonous sentence to the death without him. Alone. It all made me feel so defeated that I could do little more than cry dry tears and memorize the feeling of his skin on mine. It would keep my mind with me longer once he had gone if there was a pleasant memory to cling to. I couldn’t decide, though, if keeping my mind would be a blessing or a curse.

Helmut didn’t give up despite my insistence on pushing him away. In fact, I could almost imagine he grew gentler as a few guards shuffled about behind him. “Where are the fine clothes I had given you, my love?” he asked, “How can I warm you?”

What little moisture had returned to my mouth dried completely in an instant at his words. I couldn’t rip the answer from my tongue if I was forced to with a dagger at my heart.

Still, the Baron tried again. “If they’re here, please try to guide me to them. I can have one of the guards retrieve them,” The moment he mentioned the guard, every muscle in my body tensed, trembling from the effort of it all despite my mental protestations to calm. I couldn’t raise any alarms. I was too late, though. Helmut took note of my reaction with a measured rage as his teeth snapped together. “Ah,” his voice was a low growl, “I see now. No need to fret, Schatz. I’ll have Oeznik bring you a fresh gown. You won’t need whatever they dressed you in down here from now on anyway,”

Distantly, I could hear the hurried rush of slippered feet disappearing down the stone corridor, and I could only assume it was the trusted manservant following his lord’s orders to fetch me some clothes. I was so focused on following the sound of footfalls up the stairs that I almost didn’t notice the warmth of a cloak settling around my bare shoulders, draping over my nudeness and surrounding me with the string musk of cedarwood and sweat. I almost felt safe there, within the thick fur and leather of that mantle. When was the last time that had been even partially true? I couldn’t honestly say I knew. Maybe was that Helmut was there, so close to my side, or maybe it was that my modesty was covered for the first time in gods know how long, but no matter which was true, a strange sense of relief began to flood my veins. It burbled up to the surface like some sort of warm natural spring flowing from the very core of my being. For the first time in ages, I could breathe without terror, even if not without pain.

After the initial rush, though, it almost felt as though not facing my imminent demise made everything worse.

If I wasn’t actively about to be executed at any given time, that meant I had to face the things I’d seen, the things that had been done to me… oh yes, things felt much worse when I had to confront them in the proverbial light of day.

All at once, I learned that there were fates far worse than death and that mine was one of them.

A gasp, wet with blood and spittle, escaped my throat as I burrowed deeper into the cloak, pressing my face to the collar where the Baron’s scent was strongest. He was quick to bring a hand to my face, but I pulled away from the gesture. I couldn’t bear to look at him. To let him look at me… it was unfathomable. Not as I was.

Despite everything, Helmut was as patient as he could be while I trembled there. He rubbed his calloused thumb slowly over my gaunt cheeks, hushed me, and dried my tears. Everything about him seemed to radiate comfort like the sun.

The switch flipped when one of the guards made the mistake of speaking.

“Baron,” the new voice said, voice low, “don’t you think it best to-“

He never got to finish his sentence.

No, before he had the chance to utter another syllable, Helmut was standing at his full height and grasping the man firmly by some piece of his armor, dragging him closer across the muck on the floor.

“What were you about to say to me?” The man did not reply, but the Baron refused to relent to his silence. “I asked you a question, worm. When your lord commands, you obey,”

The guard's reply was stuttered out as soon as his heaving breaths allowed him a moment's respite. Was Helmut… choking him?

“I was going to suggest that you return to your father to get an official pardon before you decide to elope with a rightfully imprisoned woman, Baron, no matter the nature of your business with her. Need I remind you that he is the true Baron of this manor until his passing, after all,”

That was, evidently, not the correct thing to say.

A growl ripped free of Helmut’s throat that could have been loosed by a wild beast as he shoved the man harshly to the floor.

I heard others move to defend their comrade, but they all seemed to still at the sight of Helmut’s ferocity. In an instant he was standing over the fallen guard with what I could only imagine was a murderous rage from behind my shut eyelids.

“Rightfully imprisoned? Rightfully imprisoned?” Rage dripped from every seething word, “There is no rightful imprisonment when you strip a prisoner of their decency- of their humanity! When was the last time she was fed? Allowed time off the rack to care for herself? Rightfully imprisoned… you lost the right to claim that the second you locked her down here without the advisory of my father, who has given me full permission to free her and return her to my quarters immediately,” Helmut paused for a moment before adding, gravely, “I shall call a healer for her there to confirm what I believe to be true, and if it is… well, may the gods have mercy on your souls, because I certainly will not,” With that, he spat into the face of the guard at his feet and stepped back, taking heaving breaths, though I could not tell if it was from the effort of his rage or the effort of holding it back.

The moments that followed beloved into sort of quiet chaos in the darkness of my mind. There was a shirt scuffle as the guard seemingly rose to his feet once more, aided by his compatriots, while Helmut stood silent. I could just make out the shaky sound of his ragged breathing. Everything else just melded into a cacophony of voices and loud, disjointed noises that seemed to jump out of the darkness and straight for me. It made me want to implode.

It was as if, all at once, everything became… too much to bear. The air was too thick and the sounds were too loud and every inch of my being was alight with small bursts of needling pain, driving far past my skin and deep into my bones as the room grew colder and colder around me. The sensations were nothing compared to the tortures I had endured before, physically or otherwise, but with the promise of freedom and safety waiting so closely to me in the form of the man that I loved, even the smallest of pains felt unbearable and unending. It was as if every bit of suffering. Had fought through at the hands of the guards to survive to see this glimmer of hope had been compounded into one, large pressure that threatened to crush me the second I clawed my way to freedom.

Helmut would never allow that to happen, though. Not again. Not after he had seen me in this state. I could only suspect that this newfound softness in him meant he wouldn’t allow me away from his side for quite some time, no matter how ridiculous or unbelievable such an idea seemed. In the deepest, most shameful corners of my heart, I could only hope it would be true. I wanted desperately to be tucked away someplace soft and warm and utterly mundane where I would never be forced to face another ounce of horror or darkness for the rest of my life.

Somewhere between the sudden influx of sensation and the daydream of peace, I forgot to keep my eyes shut.

My eyelashes peeled apart, adhered together with some sort of muck, revealing Helmut standing before me. The sight of him was enough to let me fight through the pain of the light and keep them open. A soft sob escaped me once more.

His body was tense and readied for movement, white shirt soaked with sweat and grime and what looked like it had to be blood as he stood with his back to me, one arm outstretched back towards me in a silent gesture of comfort he didn’t even know if I would see. He could not reach me, nor did I think he intended to, but it offered me security nonetheless. His other hand sat easily on the hilt of his sword, resting sheathed on his hip as it always did during long trips outside the manor walls. Had he come directly to me upon his return home, not even taking the time to shed his outdoor cloak and sword, only to find me missing from my place in his chambers? I banished the thought from my head. That was unimportant at the moment. What mattered was that Helmut’s body served as a barrier of safety between me and the rest of the world. It gave me just enough courage to keep my eyes hooded, but open.

It took a moment to adjust to the darkness. While the torches in the hall still burned brightly, the great iron door blocked most of their glow from reaching my gaze. The light was just enough to focus in on the world beyond Helmut’s silhouette, letting me catch sight of the glint of a guard's sword appearing from the dark corner of the room before the Baron did.

What once was quiet chaos devolved into loud, maddening chaos from there.

I screamed. That was certain, even when all else was not. It was a dry, cracked, raw thing that escaped me as the hidden guard broke rank and lunged across the room. There was no humanity in his ice-cold eyes, not the slightest glimmer of anything besides bloodlust and pure self-preservation crossing his face, and yet somehow, despite all the time I had spent at the mercy of him and his companions, I held no fear for myself. Instead, the terror that wracked my body was for the man who stood between me and the sword.

Helmut was the only thing in the world that could keep me from an eternity of torment and his attacker knew that better than even I did at the moment. He intended to kill the man I loved, a treasonous act, in exchange for the safety of his own hide. If Helmut was bested… I couldn’t even fathom it. The moment stretched on endlessly, and yet there was no time to think about the sight I beheld. As the Baron took note of the man, he drew his own sword. I urged my own abused muscles forward, managing to almost drag myself across the few feet of space that separated me and my lord and his hand, still outstretched towards me; a beacon of reassurance. The moment my fingers brushed his, I collapsed, muscles spasming against the dirt. I had done my part. From there, I could do nothing but close my eyes once more and wait for the telltale metallic noises of swordplay.

They never came.

Helmut jolted before me, hard enough that even from my spot on the floor I couldn’t help but wince, and I heard the telltale swish of his blade leaving its sheath, feeling the wind in its wake on my teary face. Still, the terrible fight I anticipated didn’t rage on. I couldn’t hear any of the other guards present so much as breathe. I found myself utterly lost in the darkness. My cluelessness towards the current situation was almost worse than seeing Helmut skewered, at least in that moment as I reached out and grasped fistfuls of dirt, desperate to hold on to something real. Someone groaned a quick, pained breath, and then everything ceased to be.

Time stopped there for a while. Maybe it was only in the prison of my own mind, but it was as if the space between breaths had extended out into the infinite darkness and fear that consumed me whole. He couldn’t be dead. Even if he was, I couldn’t bear to check.

The moment was only broken when a familiar voice cut through the silence. “Shall I have him disposed of, my lord?”

My eyelids were heavy, but I forced them up and open as I released my fistfuls of dirt and dragged my face up to look towards the door only to find Oeznik had returned. With a bundle of linens in one hand and a bloodstained sword in the other, he stood flanked by some of the elder Baron’s personal guards. If looks could kill, the man who had attempted to take Helmut’s life would have been in a much more merciful situation, and the baron stood before you, triumphant.

His blade remained pressed into the man’s neck, keeping the poor bastard frozen mid-swing for fear that one wrong move would take off his head. All the while Helmut’s face remained hidden from my view. If his body language was anything to go by, it was taking all of his self-control not to slaughter the guard right then and there, but he remained as still as a statue, unreadable and cold, as I reached a trembling hand up to his still extended hand like a lifeline. He squeezed my cold fingers in his own comfortingly the moment we managed to touch. 

“Just ensure that he doesn’t move from this cell,” Helmut replied, “None of them should,”

It was as if the great group of men gathered around the door forgot how to breathe. I, on the other hand, felt freer than I had in an eternity.

“Shall I lock the door behind us?” Oeznik inquired.

Despite his hidden face, I could hear the pure wickedness and vengeance in Helmut’s grin. “Yes, Oeznik, and station a few of our best men at the door. One of them may still have a key, and all would be for naught should they simply remove themselves from captivity,”

“Right away, my lord,”

It shouldn’t have surprised me when Helmut let go of my hand and finally shifted himself to regard me once more. Still, the look in his eyes made my heart feel although it could stop beating. He turned and knelt before me, taking my muddied face in his hands and brushing a thumb over my cheek. His touch was so tender I almost forgot to breathe, as though taking even a gulp of air would break the spell and plunge me back into reality. The light, remained, though, even as he sank to his knees to assist me.

“There's no need for us to tarry here any longer, schatzi. Come along now,”

An almost childlike, hysterical wonder flooded my senses as I tried to pull his cloak tighter to my body. The warmth was addictive. “We’re going? Together?”

“Yes darling, together,”

“But what if someone sees us? Baron, I can’t let them see you like this, especially with me in such a state. If someone from town were to see-“

Though his face betrayed none of his emotions, the ice-cold tone of Helmut’s voice was enough to send a shiver down my aching spine. “I will cross that bridge when I’m required to. Now come. You’ve spent far too much time in this dank hole already and I refuse to let you remain here for even a moment longer,”

I needed no more convincing than that to take the Baron’s hand as he helped me up on unsteady feet.

Standing again was a strange sensation, to say the least. It was as if I were a fawn taking my first steps across the damp forest floor in spring. Helmut kept me upright against his side and jumped into action the moment he was needed, bracing my body on his as my legs gave out time and time again in the steps toward the door. When the struggle became too great for him to bear watching, he wasted no time before sweeping an arm beneath my knees and cradling me to his chest, making sure to keep me wrapped securely in his mantle along the way. From there I could do little more than let the shock set in, drifting in and out of the present as he carried me away from the hell hole I had believed I would never leave again. All the while, a loose, pained smile crossed my bloody lips.

On the way up the steep, winding stairs, I faintly recalled hearing Helmut muttering to Oeznik, who remained a few paces ahead of you during the ascent like a buffer. The contents of their conversation eluded me. I could only assume they were speaking of what had transpired, but I couldn’t say with any certainty. Not with the way my mind seemed to be covered in a thick fog as soon as I let my eyes drift shut once more, tucked into the furs that surrounded me on all sides. The only certainty in the world became the steady thrumming of Helmut’s heart and the heady musk of travel clinging to his clothes and skin.

As the last of my lucidity faded, I opened my eyes one last time, only to be greeted by the warm light of dawn. It streamed down upon me in a million colors from the stained glass windows lining the hall. I had believed so truthfully that I would never see the sun again, and yet here I was, bathed in the glory of a new morning. A new day.

Everything became lost to time from there as my eyes drifted shut once more, still catching glimpses of colored light from behind my eyelids until I lost my grasp on the present.

[sunflower1me]

For the writer ask game!

🎨 ⇢ link your favourite piece of fanart and explain why you like it

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

🦋 ⇢ share something that has been on your heart and mind lately 

🎨 - This one with Eiland and March from Fields of Mistria is just so cute and funny. There's a lot I could've chosen honestly- there's so much talent and skill on here!

🍄 - Ooough this is so hard!! My most written pairing is Gus/Elliott so my mind goes to them. I feel like once they get married they run the saloon together- it's an important part of Gus' life and Elliott absolutely romanticizes intertwining their lives. That being said, Elliott is much more introverted than Gus, so for Elliott's sanity they invest in soundproofing the back rooms so he can have his time to decompress and, of course, work on his novels.

I also think that after it causes a bit of trouble in their relationship that Gus adjusts the saloon's hours- not many people come at noon anyways and now that Gus has more priorities in his life than just running the saloon, it makes sense that things would switch up a bit.

I also have a more 18+ headcanon, and I'll put in a cut so nobody who doesn't want to see that has to. See that after the next ask if you're an adult!

🦋 - Another toughie! There's a lot of things that I could talk about, but I'm choosing the importance of community.

I always knew in my head that community was important to an extent, but I didn't fully get it until I joined a genuinely welcoming discord server(Shoutout to Fandom Express, I love y'all more than I can say). It feels great to be a part of something bigger than me, combined with the fact that I care so much about freedom of expression, a creative community was something I think I always needed. I've struggled a lot with talking to others and social cues and generally putting myself out there, and I still do! But I'm learning not to be afraid of other people and finding that maybe I can trust people with my creative works. We need communities, folks. Everything is better when you're together. Is that a phrase? It sounds like one!

I still deal with the self doubt (Am I creating enough? Is this idea any good? Is my writing any good? Am I doing this right?) but seeing other people who have common interests with you can really help keep you out of your own head, at least a little bit!

I've rambled on enough, but I'm grateful I got to answer this ask, plus the others!

Now for the 18+ thing I mentioned.

18+ CONTENT BELOW

🍄 - Elliott and Gus do bondage! Elliott introduced it, seeing it as an art form with all of the intricate knots and the beauty of giving up your body to someone in such a way. Elliott took the lead at first but after some adjustment they both actively enjoy being tied up by the other. Elliott spends much more time tying up Gus and likes to dabble in a bit of nude photography alongside it, only when Gus is feeling it of course. Gus takes longer to get the hang of it but finds he loves it too, though he's less artsy about it- the art is already there, he's just framing him in rope. <3

I've really wanted to write for this one but I haven't done enough research yet ^^' I just love love love the concept!!

[hcaivoices]

please read before sending in a request Link to my TikTok

Rules For Requests:

I will not accept any request for the following: *Songs that are overly sexual * Songs that have a lot of swearing (by excessive swearing I mean a bunch of racial slurs, and fuck every other word. I can bleep some racial slurs but I’m not looking to sit there and re edit an entire track just to make it work. One or two is okay though that’s easy enough to take out. ___________________________________________________ * Please limit characters on the track to 3 for my own sanity. It is possible for more but too much work. *If your song is a duet please include two characters or I will have to pick a second one for you. Unless you actually want only one character to sing both parts and if that’s so include that as a foot note. *Because of the influx of requests meme songs are very low on my priority list so just keep that in mind with requests. *I have the right to refuse any request for any reason. As I’m doing this for fun the reason very well just might be “I didn’t want to”. And if that’s the case don’t take it personally. *don’t send requests for characters I don’t have . So please check my ever growing character list.

* I don’t fill requests in the order they come in. I jump around and do the ones that I want to do. I can’t stress enough that this is a hobby. So of course I’ll have more interest in doing songs I like/know. *Please keep requests 1 per post, you of course may send as may as you like but one song per ask is what I allowed. That way I can post it with your song. (it does not always let me post in audio format and sometimes I have to do it as a video and I can only do one video per post. So if both songs have to be video format I will have to screen shot the post and do it twice anyway.)

* please do not spam your request or keep messaging me to ask about it. especially off of anon as I have no way to actually reply without having a public conversation. If you’re curious about your request dm me in here or discord. * A common misconception is that a song has to sound like the character, this is not true. A character can sing any song of any gender, they will make it their own, so long as I can get a clean separation of audio the song does not matter. I can pitch it lower for them if it sounds strange in a high voice and vice versa.

I will delete requests if:

*it didn’t work for whatever reason. *it’s a repeat. So join the discord to search or check my character tags to sort through on tumblr. You can also just dm me and ask me directly and I can tell you. *they broke any of the rules above

* if you send a character that I don’t have listed *Incomplete information *if you send in a song for more than 3 characters

* if you request 2 songs in the same ask. Yes this includes you wanting 2 different characters to sing the same song separately and not as a duet. It still doesn’t always let me post. It’s a technical thing I wish tumblrs audio system wasn’t so garbage but it is and that’s what we have to work with.

* I had zero interest in doing the song for whatever reason. It could be maybe I didn’t like it, it’s too difficult. It’s a joke song (I got too many serious requests to mess with these right now). This IS a hobby after all if the cover does not sound fun I won’t do it. Don’t take it personally though you can always send in a new request.

* I’m not going to do an entire album for someone so if you keep requesting songs from like the same movie or album I’ll just stop doing them. I have too many other requests to mess with all that. So please be considerate of other people and don’t keep requesting songs from the same movie or album over and over again. Or at least space it out a couple months.

*I also have little interest in redoing the same song over and over with different characters or the same song just in a different language with a different character. But again don’t take this personally it just becomes tedious and boring redoing the same song over and over and over again.

((Please keep in mind I am doing this for fun and for free. understand that you may be waiting a few weeks or even months for your request. Thank you for understanding and your patience in advance 😊. Become a discord member to have access to the full library and exclusives. And follow my tiktok for exclusives from my own collection that won’t be posted onto discord or tumblr. I also take some requests there to.))

See below for characters list. ⬇️⬇️

keep in mind I do not take requests for characters to make, you may ask if I am making them but ultimately I will or I won't the choice is up to me.

List Of Characters I Have:

All characters made by me sing in their English dub voice, they all sing with their accents and most can speak their native language as close to fluently as you can get I feel along with English.

-Made by me- England China Germany Canada Austria Prussia Poland Norway Finland Iceland Denmark North Italy Spain Japan America Romano France NyoAmerica Russia Sweden Lithuania Latvia Grandpa Rome Next Character's I'm working on: Not sure yet maybe Greece

PSA: You may notice that there will be a bunch of covers posted by a certain characters at once. Like maybe one day I will post 4 England covers and no one else, this isn't favoritism. Sometimes it’s just easier to pick a character and bang out a bunch of their requests than sorting though a bunch of different ones. I’ll try not to do this very often though as I do like to keep it mixed and not focus too much on one character as I love all my bots as children I’ve made and like to use them all as often as I can. So you may see me refer to them as my sons a lot. I mean that in the sense that I created them. It’s a joke don’t take it seriously lol. Like I may refer to Denmark as ‘My Danish son’ it’s just a term of endearment for the bot itself. You might wonder “Why does she feel the need to specify this? It’s obviously meant as tongue-in-cheek and she doesn’t actually view the character as their child…” and my answer to that is “Welcome to Tumblr”.

Please don't ask me for links to my characters as they do not exist. All my voices exist within in my personal PC. They are not hosted anywhere. So the answer will always be 'no'.

I do not answer requests in the order they are received. If I’m excited about one I will jump to do it even if it just came in. Please keep in mind this is a hobby, free and I’m doing it on my own time. That being said please don’t spam me to get to your requests. There are days where I either don’t want to or just don’t have time to make any covers at all. I do have a job and a life. And then there are days I might be really in the mood to make covered and edit music and I’ll make 10 in a row. And there will be days where I don't feel like doing any at all. If you really are curious about your cover please dm me or send me and ask OFF of anon that way I can actually reply to you.

Full library is on the Discord where they are also available for download. join there to get covers when they are first dropped and a ton of exclusives + full albums.

Had some people ask that I make a request form so they know exactly what to include. Optional to use not required but this is all the info I would like to have.

Request forum:

Character 1: Character 2: Character 3: If you only want one character leave the others blank Song: Artist:

If it’s in a language other than English language it would be nice if you could tell me which one it is to.

Any other additional info. Something like…I would like Poland to sing the chorus by himself. Just anything to let me know exactly what you have in mind. ��——- I will take care of the pitching and accent modifying based on what sounds the best. I try to do every song with accents but some songs they will struggle with it and slur words if that happens I’ll turn it down or off completely to give you the best version possible. (I do not take requests for pitches or accents. I will do whatever sounds best for the character and the song to give the best end result. Just trust the process.)

[agravain-prime]

"Navigating through Endless Possibilities: My 3rd Year Journey with CPE_3B_2 and Engr. Carl Suasola"

08.16.23

My first day of the class was quite eventful personally. The class schedule of the System Design and Engineering course was quite late at night being at 6:00 to 9:00 PM. It was quite hard to keep up with such a schedule as late as that but naturally we had to do it of course. But that in itself wasn't too tiring, We had a class beforehand that made use of the same classroom as used in the System Design and Engineering course so getting to the room proved to be much easier and smooth sailing at the very least. Anyhow, back to the topic at hand, We definitely were kind of tired all throughout the day but as soon as Sir Carl Suasola entered the room the mood changed almost immediately. Some were tense and some were perceptive.

Engr. Carl Suasola explained throughout the lecture that it is important to communicate with your teammates and even outside your own comfort space. It is so to build ourselves the confidence to easily handle rapports with each other and other people.

Engr. Carl Suasola was fairly well known to be a good adviser that can keep their students in line with how one should work as a proper student. He is able to charismatically change the entire mood of the class by making jokes and basically just about anything to make his lectures ever more entertaining.

During his lecture, many were tired of course but that soon came to pass after he openly made jokes all throughout the entire class to keep our attention spans from wandering around. It was a good way to help our dwindling sanity from collapsing and he clearly delivered the things he wanted to say. Such as being on time in both lectures/classes and the daily/weekly submissions as one would receive a pending punishment or deduction of scores if done otherwise.

He also made sure that collaborations are the upmost priorities when it comes to his class. He specifically said that he "experienced" a lot of "dropping out" of their teammates from his class before, due to perhaps tardiness or even inside fighting. It was of course surprising to hear such a thing as I never did have any of the sorts but it's also very understandable as we are already 3rd year College students, we should be responsible for our work and shouldn't carry dead weight around.

Sir Carl had also said that while such things happen from time to time. One-on-One sessions with him should be conducted beforehand so as to assess what the underlying problems are and how we should solve such problems. It is so that no one in their team will be hindered in terms of performance and in turn will become more efficient when the problems within the group are solved.

Overall, I think that the lecture that he had done was quite something else. It was a very insightful lecture that could definitely help us for the long haul of the entire semester and possibly even more. With Engr. Carl Suasola's guidance, I hope to see more with what I can offer for this course.

[citysank]

MAINS/EXCLUSIVE/AFFILIATES CALL

So I've been in the process of working on a google site page for MAINS / EXCLUSIVE / AFFILIATES for a hot minute and I'm getting ready to start adding people to it!

WHAT DOES THIS MEAN JOEY?

I'm glad you asked!! Essentially depending on which one you are will determine WHAT it means, but across the board it'll mean the following:

Prioritizing those threads & plots for my sanity

It usually means that plotting will be a huge part of our writing so either we HAVE plotted or are in the process of building out solid plots / dynamics

Replies ( memes or threads or otherwise ) will be posted as soon as they are finished / with priority in queue

It doesn't mean I'll ignore other stuff, it just means most likely threads will be queued unless otherwise stated / discussed

IN THE CASE OF MAINS

It means the aforementioned above and a place in the mains section of course. It'll make also mean if your muse is canon then they will be the primary version of that muse I write with ( doesn't mean no dupes, just that one is the one I have the most focus on due to plotting )

In the case of OCS, this usually means that OC has a significant role / presence in one or more of my ocs canon and I plan to keep it that way and continue developing

IN THE CASE OF EXCLUSIVES

Like with above mentioned it generally means that the development between our muses has been so impactful that they are firmly solidified that they are essentially the ONLY version of that character I can write with in the case of canons. Meaning I will not likely follow / interact with duplicates.

In the case of OCS I will be faceclaim exclusive with that OC meaning I won't really follow or write with OCs that share that faceclaim.

IN THE CASE OF AFFILIATES

This will likely be reserved for blogs I have done extremely in depth and detailed plotting with to the point that it ALTERS MY CANON in some way shape or form. Affiliates will also be listed on my pinned post and it will be strongly encouraged that people FOLLOW those blogs as well as my own.

Give this a like if you'd be interested in being on it just so I know who else to add !! :]

[tele-caster]

Journal.

1:07 PM 7/24/2023

If your abscence doesn't make them reach out to you, your prescense was never a priority to them. Meaning that they never cared, you never matted neither you are liable.

More than 2 months have passed by and have these fuckers reached out to me? Neither will I. Call it pride, but the abuse of people you call so " friends " and them actually being fucking snakes makes me angry, mad, confused and even worse… Get me to even dive into the dark side of my self where I really dont give a fuck. Please do not get me wrong, I really love, and love hard… But I really don't give a fuck even harder when it comes to that.

What happens when you're left for dead, alone and never coming back from the dead? Because this is what people who harm think. That there's no power, no resources, no education, no money and the list goes on and on. They think they have literally destroyed you. However, the reverse polarity law comes into an effect to it's best timing in order not to harm back, but to provide a lesson. Since everything is interconnected and time isn't linear ( as people think it is, because of a clock ) anything you give it will actually come back, being honest I've experienced this weird event and effect of this strange world we call planet earth.-

I should even stop writing and thinking about losers. Yeah, that's what losers do… Talk bad about a true, honest, love living friend. People want bad, they fucking really do, because they want to be seduced terrificly on, they want gluttony, they need greed and excess on everything which leaves any individual on the drift. But not me, after trying so many times in love life, friends, family, near ones, business mates and so on… I've figured out that this is a hu-mane problem, this is the point where I actually ask myself again that what the fuck is wrong with people? This is actually, my reality at the moment. Not giving fuck, what the fuck is going on, and get to fucking work.

Spent the weekend working on classical works and shadow woking. Besides watch some movies on my own, I noticed some change on the fact that I have distanced myself from true, honest and transparent emotions from the humans ( yes, the humans, since I do not consider myself as one of them ) Gothic type like, old money aesthetics, documentaries, investigative, criminological and psychologicals are my favourites if I'm asked.

But… I had this small touch with a romance dramedy. It kind of kept me thinking in a of things about love, and of course, again is a movie. But certain aspects of the movie, guess where they come from? Real life, and people think is the opposite. So, like I was saying, generally I do feel somehow distant from normal conversations, love indeed is not in the air for me, I've stopped looking and gave it up to the higher power and intelligence that has me here, writing and breathing for you at this very moment.

Am I so hard to love, or do people actually make me feel and look in such a way that, I may have trapped myself in someone else's idea? I say I'm different. I like it when they state that I'm weird because I know that my weirdness attracts your sanity and insanity to prove something that you think that " you know " or " understand " why I am like that. Being weird is mysterious, fun, untraceable, profound, investigative, effortless and many more things that mundane people won't be able to understand properly neither try to. Hahahahahaha, it makes me laugh because what they usually do is just act based on what they want from it, not what they can or should provide to it. The weirdness, not the person. Weird, is a vibe not a place, thing, animal or person.

If you're alone you've got no problems but yourself to be picked up from the ground and clean the dust to keep walking. What a marvelous thing to know.

[masteryminutes]

Time Management for Parents: Juggling Family and Personal Time

Explore practical strategies to balance family, work, and personal time. Plunge into the pages of this blog post filled with laughter, brimming with valuable time-saving tips and clever parental productivity hacks.

How Does One Juggle Life? A Parent's Dilemma

Parenting is like juggling flaming torches while riding a unicycle – an entertaining yet challenging spectacle. As a parent, you're not just managing kids and chaos; you're balancing work, personal time, and the mysterious realm of family responsibilities. So, buckle up for a rollercoaster ride through the life of our fictional character, Jane Jugglesalot, as she unveils the secrets of time management in the peculiar world of parenthood.

The Circus of Parenthood: Juggling Family Responsibilities

Jane, a seasoned juggler in her own right, found herself in the ultimate circus tent – the household. With kids running amok, deadlines looming at work, and personal desires quietly whimpering in the background, she wondered, "How do I keep all these balls in the air without accidentally setting the house on fire?" Parental Time Management 101: The Three-Ring Strategy Enter the Three-Ring Strategy, Jane's brainchild for managing family responsibilities. Ring 1: Family, Ring 2: Work, and Ring 3: Personal Time. Each has its own spotlight moment, but blending them seamlessly is where the magic happens. Jane started her day by donning her Family Ring hat – ensuring the kids were breakfasted, dressed, and ready for the day. Once the little circus performers were off to school, she slipped into her Work Ring attire, tackling emails and conference calls with the precision of a tightrope walker. By lunchtime, she gracefully segued into the Personal Time Ring, a magical intermission where she nurtured her interests and passions. The key here was not to let the circus tents overlap, avoiding the chaos of a lion suddenly appearing in the middle of a juggling act. Transitioning effortlessly between these rings became Jane's secret to maintaining sanity and avoiding the chaos of a clown car collision.

Balancing Act: Work, Parenting, and Personal Time

As Jane masterfully balanced her life rings, she pondered, "How do I keep my priorities straight without accidentally swapping the grocery list with the quarterly report?" Parenting Productivity Hacks: A Balancing Act with Precision Precision was the name of the game. Jane realized that setting priorities was crucial, and color-coded calendars became her trusty sidekicks. Work meetings were in blue, family events in green, and personal time was a burst of rainbow hues. Transitioning smoothly between these vibrant categories brought a sense of order to Jane's chaotic circus of life. Time Management Tips for Parents: The Power of 'No' Another revelation struck Jane – the power of saying 'no.' Not to the kids, of course, but to the unnecessary extras that threatened to creep into her schedule like uninvited clowns. She chuckled at the thought of turning away those time-stealing jesters. "Sorry, Mr. Clown, I can't attend your impromptu party. I've got a juggling act of my own to perform!"

The Parenthood Time Warp: Efficient Techniques for Time Travel

Parenthood sometimes feels like a time warp where days blend into nights, and suddenly, you're wondering if you missed a month or two. Jane faced this temporal conundrum head-on, asking herself, "How can I stretch time without breaking the space-time continuum?" Time-saving Tips for Parents: The Time-Turner of Parenthood Jane discovered her very own Time-Turner – a magical device known as delegation. She recruited the kids as junior jugglers in the household circus, teaching them age-appropriate tasks and transforming chores into a collaborative routine. With each child contributing their bit, the time-turning magic happened – suddenly, Jane found herself with an extra hour or two every day. It was as if the laws of time bowed to the efficiency of a well-coordinated family unit. Delegating tasks not only lightened Jane's load but also taught the kids essential life skills. Talk about killing two birds with one juggling pin!

The Great Escape: Personal Time for Parents

In the whirlwind of family responsibilities and work deadlines, Jane recognized the importance of a great escape – a moment where the spotlight was solely on her. She mused, "How can I reclaim my personal time without resorting to a full-fledged disappearing act?" Parenthood Time Management: The Art of 'Me' Time To avoid drowning in the sea of parental obligations, Jane crafted a weekly schedule that reserved specific blocks exclusively for 'Me' Time. Whether it was indulging in a good book, pursuing a hobby, or simply savoring a quiet cup of coffee, these moments became her lifelines. Carving out intentional personal time not only rejuvenated Jane but also made her a better juggler in the circus of life.

The Grand Finale: Parental Work-Life Harmony

As Jane perfected her juggling act, she marveled at the grand finale – a harmonious blend of work and family, with personal time serving as the glittering confetti on top. She questioned, "Can I truly achieve work-life balance, or is it just a mythical unicorn that parents chase in vain?" Strategies for Busy Parents: The Unicorn of Work-Life Balance Jane discovered that work-life balance wasn't a mythical unicorn; it was a dynamic creature that required constant attention and adaptation. Flexibility became her ally, allowing her to adjust the rhythm of her juggling act based on the demands of the moment. Adapting to the ever-changing circus of life, Jane realized that work-life balance wasn't about perfect equilibrium but rather a dance where each partner took turns leading.

Wrapping Up the Circus: A Standing Ovation for Parenthood

In the grand finale of Jane's circus of life, the audience rose to their feet in a standing ovation. The laughter, the tears, the perfectly executed juggling act – it was a spectacle that left everyone in awe. Jane took a bow, her heart filled with gratitude for the chaos, the challenges, and the moments of sheer magic. As you embark on your own juggling act, remember the wisdom gleaned from Jane Jugglesalot's journey – prioritize, delegate, and savor those precious moments of personal time. Life may be a circus, but with the right juggling techniques, you can turn it into a showstopper. And so, the curtain falls on this whimsical tale of parental time management, leaving you with a smile and a newfound appreciation for the juggling act that is parenthood. Normal Working Days: TimeActivity6:00 AMWake up and morning routine7:00 AMPrepare and have breakfast8:00 AMCommute to work or start remote work12:00 PMLunch break1:00 PMResume work5:00 PMFinish work and commute home6:00 PMFamily time and dinner8:00 PMChildren's bedtime routine9:00 PMPersonal time, relaxation, or chores10:30 PMPrepare for bed and sleep Holidays: TimeActivity7:30 AMWake up and relaxed morning8:30 AMFamily breakfast10:00 AMOutdoor activities or family outings1:00 PMLunch and leisure time3:00 PMHobbies, personal projects, or relaxation6:00 PMFamily dinner8:00 PMMovie night, games, or quality family time9:30 PMChildren's bedtime routine10:30 PMExtended personal time or early bedtime Read the full article

[dreamdevours]

* the danger is still present, in your time, as it was in ours. - — this place is not a place of honor. this place is best shunned and left uninhabited

(my body is a godless temple / long since fallen to ruin / and yet i kneel to pray)

god of dreams, morpheus. maker of prophets and madmen. an independent, private, highly selective portrayal of darkrai. re-imagined for the horror genre.

a study of divine portent, moonless nights, destruction, and redemption. by percival (he/him, 30+)

legend (tba). this blog is a sideblog to @godstrain. this blog runs on beta editor only! rules under readmore!

𝐨𝐧𝐞. #DREAMDEVOURS is an independent, private, highly selective and mutuals exclusive writing blog for darkrai of the pokemon franchise, but re-imagined for the horror genre.

this blog is 18+. please do not follow me if you are under 18!

on this note, this blog will feature dark and triggering themes. i have been in the fandom before, this is by far not my first rodeo, but i am back with new ideas because of course i am! and these new ideas are all from me being special interest resident evil lmao so it's going to get messy! i will make sure to tag these things with the format of #trigger so that they can be filtered out!

𝐭𝐰𝐨. shipping is not the priority here- also eternatus is a cosmic god and while capable of taking a mortal form, isn't about all of that lmao.

if shipping happens, it will require a LOT of plotting and will not be with any mun or muse under the age of 21.

i am also very open to any other sort of bonds though, just let me know!

i should also note that i will accept mains and exclusives! -

𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞. am known for writing metas across the blogs i have. in the wise words of a friend:

with this in mind, the metas i write are portrayal specific to this blog, so please give them a read! i know i can be rather wordy- anyone who has followed me elsewhere may know this, but for my first time followers, worldbuilding is one of my favorite things to do. i am particularly fond of analysis of character psychology.

𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫. to the point above, i do have other blogs! i run @godstrain and @godraet. i am in and out of other fandoms, but i am trying to focus on a smaller group of things for my own sanity.

and by this, i mean i work 32-40 hours as a registered nurse in an inpatient psychiatric unit. i am busy, i am tired, and i can't keep letting my focus go all over the place. inevitably, it still may do that because i have a tendency to be scattered, so if i don't get to something immediately, it isn't you, it's me!

also related to that, i do love communication! i struggle with reading the room (it's the Autism tm) and so if something's up or if you're bothered, please be direct with me! i will not take offense, i quite appreciate feedback so that i can be better as a person! in return, i will communicate back! i am learning to curate my space (after 10+ years of being on tumblr).

𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞. there are people i won't interact with due to various reasons- my dni list is on the carrd of my other blogs. i won't interact with genderbent versions of characters, people who are Real Life Individuals (not counting fictional depictions like in the typemoon franchise or whatnot because those really have nothing to do with the actual individual they're supposedly based on?).

please stay far away from me if you fall under the following categories (i'm censoring things because god knows tumblr just picks shit up idk): proshipping, writing inc*st, p*dophilia, r*pe/n*ncon, are transphobic/homophobic- the usual gross behavior! use your moral compass!

on top of that, i am a firm believer that we learn from the media around us. full censorship is just as dangerous as the aforementioned things- the world isn't all sunshine and rainbows! please refer to this post which essentially summarizes the gist of what i'm trying to explain.

𝐬𝐢𝐱. anyway, hello, i'm percival. i am 30+ and use he/him pronouns exclusively! i am a hobby artist (it's my side-gig from nursing) and sometimes i post my art, tagged #whats my art tag considering i constantly forget my art tag if it's fancy. please do not repost my art without my permission. my icons for eternatus' mortal form are of goetia from fgo. art credit is at the bottom here!

mutuals, feel free to ask me for my discord, since i am much easier to reach there!

i look forward to writing with you!

[aekashic]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄. god of the cosmos, eternatus of endlessness. by percival (he/him, 30+). this blog is a sideblog to @godstrain + @godraet so if you're followed by wesker or ganondorf that's why :)

legend (tba). rules under readmore.

affiliated with [ . . . ]

𝐨𝐧𝐞. #AEKASHIC is an independent, private, highly selective and mutuals exclusive writing blog for eternatus of the pokemon franchise, but re-imagined for the horror genre.

this blog is 18+. please do not follow me if you are under 18!

on this note, this blog will feature dark and triggering themes. i have been in the fandom before, this is by far not my first rodeo, but i am back with new ideas because of course i am! and these new ideas are all from me being special interest resident evil lmao so it's going to get messy! i will make sure to tag these things with the format of #trigger so that they can be filtered out!

𝐭𝐰𝐨. shipping is not the priority here- also eternatus is a cosmic god and while capable of taking a mortal form, isn't about all of that lmao.

if shipping happens, it will require a LOT of plotting and will not be with any mun or muse under the age of 21.

i am also very open to any other sort of bonds though, just let me know!

i should also note that i will accept mains and exclusives! -

𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞. am known for writing metas across the blogs i have. in the wise words of a friend:

with this in mind, the metas i write are portrayal specific to this blog, so please give them a read! i know i can be rather wordy- anyone who has followed me elsewhere may know this, but for my first time followers, worldbuilding is one of my favorite things to do. i am particularly fond of analysis of character psychology.

𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫. to the point above, i do have other blogs! i run @godraet and @hmrtia, those ones are rather well known. i am in and out of other fandoms, but i am trying to focus on a smaller group of things for my own sanity.

and by this, i mean i work 32-40 hours as a registered nurse in an inpatient psychiatric unit. i am busy, i am tired, and i can't keep letting my focus go all over the place. inevitably, it still may do that because i have a tendency to be scattered, so if i don't get to something immediately, it isn't you, it's me!

also related to that, i do love communication! i struggle with reading the room (it's the Autism tm) and so if something's up or if you're bothered, please be direct with me! i will not take offense, i quite appreciate feedback so that i can be better as a person! in return, i will communicate back! i am learning to curate my space (after 10+ years of being on tumblr).

𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞. there are people i won't interact with due to various reasons- my dni list is on the carrd of my other blogs. i won't interact with genderbent versions of characters, people who are Real Life Individuals (not counting fictional depictions like in the typemoon franchise or whatnot because those really have nothing to do with the actual individual they're supposedly based on?).

please stay far away from me if you fall under the following categories (i'm censoring things because god knows tumblr just picks shit up idk): proshipping, writing inc*st, p*dophilia, r*pe/n*ncon, are transphobic/homophobic- the usual gross behavior! use your moral compass!

on top of that, i am a firm believer that we learn from the media around us. full censorship is just as dangerous as the aforementioned things- the world isn't all sunshine and rainbows! please refer to this post which essentially summarizes the gist of what i'm trying to explain.

𝐬𝐢𝐱. anyway, hello, i'm percival. i am 30+ and use he/him pronouns exclusively! i am a hobby artist (it's my side-gig from nursing) and sometimes i post my art, tagged #whats my art tag considering i constantly forget my art tag if it's fancy. please do not repost my art without my permission. my icons for eternatus' mortal form are of goetia from fgo. art credit is at the bottom here!

mutuals, feel free to ask me for my discord, since i am much easier to reach there!

i look forward to writing with you!

art credit for icons ╱ はぬい,

[dameronology]

would love to see "you're being ridiculous!" "why do you care? i'm not your boyfriend/girlfriend/s.o anymore!" with tasm! peter pls!

ofc! i changed the prompt to "we're not together anymore!" anymore bc it sounded a lil better😭(from the beck + jade prompt list)

warnings: angst, swearing

"We need to talk about this."

Peter barely avoided being shut in the door as it slammed behind you, sticking his leg out just in time. You were in a rampage - he knew that, your neighbours knew that, the entirety of fucking Queens knew it now too - and had been for the better part of two hours. Any sane person would have kept their distance, but not Peter. Never Peter. Whether he was blinded by love or just completely lacking common sense, you didn't know. Either way, it was wise to avoid your line of fire - especially when he was the cause of it.

"What is there to talk about?!" you demanded, throwing your bag onto the kitchen counter. "You broke a promise, again-"

"- there was a shoot out. What was I meant to do?" Peter cut you off. "Just...swing away?! Let people die so that I could make it to our anniversary dinner?!"

You let out a derivative snort. "You could have fucking called! Just a quick message to say you'd be late, or even to say that you weren't coming at all!"

"Oh, I am so sorry that YOU weren't the first thing on my mind whilst I was trying to avoid being shot at-"

"- that's just is it, isn't it?" you snapped. "I'm never the first thing on your mind. You have a million priorities and I don't even crack the top ten anymore."

It sucked, really. Seeing yourself move down Peter Parker's ladder of priorities. Everyone had always warned you during high school that doing long distance during college would be the hardest thing for your relationship but that had been a doddle compared to this. You'd been out of university for two years by that point and in the same city for the better part of it. It had been blissful at first, spending every second of every day together, just as you had in high school. Now, you were lucky if Peter even gave you the time of day.

You'd given him ultimatums before - if you don't try harder, it's over and if you miss a date again, I'm done and they'd seemed to work for a while. Peter would try harder for a few weeks; buying you flowers, taking you out to dinner, taking nights off of being Spiderman to remind you how much you meant to him. Then he would start to slip up again and it was...Well, it was tiring. To say the fucking least.

It was a toxic cycle and you had to break it. For your sanity, and for his.

"C'mon," Peter murmured. "Of course you. You're always my number one."

"So why you don't you call?" you asked quietly. "Why do you leave me sat there on my own for three hours in a diner like a fool?"

"I-"

"- more to the point, Pete, why do we keep doing this?" you continued, dropping onto the couch. "Why do I keep letting you?"

"Letting me do what?"

"Treat me like shit!" you snapped. "You always promise to do better but you never do. It was bad enough the first five times I let you do it but now I'm making a complete clown of myself."

"I can do better," he begged, large hands reaching out for you. "Just let me prove it-"

"- you've had plenty of chances," you ripped your hands away. "Too many."

"What are you saying?"

You sniffed, standing up. "I'm saying that we're done."

Crossing the living room, you pushed past him and picked up your bag and keys.

"Are you breaking up with me?"

With a shrug, you turned to face him and gave him a curt nod. "Yeah. I am."

You pulled open the front door and made your way out the apartment, thundering down the corridor. Peter stumbled behind you, almost tripping over the laces of his converses as he followed you out. He was desperate now - maybe if he'd been that way before, none of this would have happened. It was a shame it took dangling your relationship right in front of him for him to realise.

"You're being ridiculous!" he called after you.

You glanced over your shoulder, not stopping. "Why do you care? We're not together anymore."

[amethystpath-writes]

Monsters and Legends

Don’t worry, it’s fluff :)

(NOT A PR0MPT)

Villain and hero need to stop a bigger villain by somehow acting as a couple, only for them to share a single room and a single bed (im grinning so hard rn) I giggled when I read this request:

******

The phone rang once, twice, three times.

“Why are you calling me?” Hero’s voice was a groan, one annoyed and filled with malice- or was it anxiousness?

Villain understood he was probably the last person Hero would want to hear from. Why would the bad guy of the city be calling her anyways, and how’d he find her number? Those were questions which Hero could ask later. For now- “I need your help,” Villain pleaded right away.

“You need my help?” Hero laughed brittlely on the other end of the line. That’s how Villain heard it, at least. “What makes you think I would ever help y-”

“Supervillain.”

The line went silent as the horror of such a simple name settled in. It wouldn’t matter to Hero how Supervillain’s name still existed- why it was still being muttered, unforgotten. All that meant was that Supervillain was still prevalent, which further meant something needed to be done.

“Is he still alive?”

Well, I suppose that’s a question I can answer for now. “Yes, that’s why I need you. I can’t vanquish him on my own, Hero.”

Yeah? What was Hero supposed to do about it? She wasn’t capable of fighting Supervillain, even if she fought him alongside Villain. The two of them together were still no match for such a beast, a mistake made by nature. Supervillain wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t for his ill intentions.

“We beat him before, Hero,” Villain said after another long silence. “We can do it again.”

Hero said, “If we beat him before, then why is he back?” This wasn’t the first time Hero felt hopeless. Even before Supervillain, she had days where she was convinced Villain was unbeatable. She got past that part of her depression, obviously, but it didn’t mean that anxiety didn’t exist elsewhere- such as when it came to Supervillain. “Villain, I quit this business after the first round. I can’t…I can’t do it again.”

“I know.” Villain nodded, even knowing Hero wouldn’t see it on the phone pressed against her ear. “I know, and I get it.”

“If you did, you wouldn’t have called.”

Villain sighed. Maybe she was right, but… “You’re the only one I know who can pull this off.”

“Pull what off, Villain? What plan have you made up that you think might actually be enough? We killed Supervillain. We killed him, and yet you’re telling me that he’s alive? We can’t beat him.”

How could Villain say this? How did he portray this compliment without it sounding like an insult? “Where you lack in strength, you lead in intelligence. You- you’re able to think things out in a moment, whereas it takes me ages. You are so much more capable than you think you are and, believe it or not, I have always admired you.”

Right. Hero wasn’t so certain Villain was telling the truth. Sure, she was smart, and she could even admit that, but…intelligence couldn’t defeat an undead man. Even if it did, what made Villain say something kind to her? He would never spare a compliment to someone as poor as Hero; he wouldn’t spare an insult either. And anyways, who would admire an anxious mess? Not a villain, not by any means, right?

“Why do you need me? What has made you turn to a last resort?” Last resort, meaning asking anyone for help when Villain preferred to work alone.

Villain’s palms were sweating, his phone nearly sliding out of his hand the longer he remained on the line. “He wants my allegiance. Rejecting him would be a death sentence, and you know it. I don’t want to die. Not now. Not just yet. At the same time, I am not going to work for or with this guy.”

Hero was still failing to understand. “How do I fit into this,” she rephrased, “beyond you needing my intelligence?”

“Supervillain never knew you. He doesn’t know your face, your name, your priorities.”

“And?”

“And I told him I have a wife who insists on working with me.”

No. No, no, no. No. But she didn’t say this. “So, you are asking me to jeopardize my own life by appearing at your side as a fake wife who doesn’t know how to properly defend herself.”

“I could teach you, Hero. I’m trained. Strength means nothing if your opponent has technique. I can teach you,” Villain repeated, hands heating impossibly more. “Do this for me and I’ll- I’ll…”

Precisely. “There is nothing you can offer me, Villain.”

“If you don’t do this,” Villain returned, gripping his phone with white knuckles, and curled toes which dug into his carpeted floor, “everyone else will suffer for it. Yourself, included. I don’t know about you, but I think you’ve suffered enough.”

You don’t mean that, Hero wanted to say. You don’t mean anything nice that you’re saying. You’re just desperate. You know that I’ll do anything if it means someone will tell me they’re proud of me at the end of the day. She thought this of everyone- even herself, only she knew someone else was more likely to say they were proud of her than herself.

How did anyone ever call her a hero when she couldn’t even save her own mind from destroying itself?

Easy.

She was a villain to herself, and a hero to others.

“How do I know he’s alive? Am I supposed to take your word for it?”

Villain almost said yes, but he knew Hero would require proof. She didn’t trust herself, let alone anyone else in the world. “There is no evidence of him, but if you’d like to handcuff me every moment we are alone, then I suppose I will hand that to you as your security.”

Hero’s eyes widened. She didn’t have handcuffs; she was no officer, but for Villain to say that, and with such a serious tone…he wouldn’t say something so disadvantageous to him if he didn’t mean it- if it weren’t necessary to gain Hero’s assistance.

“What will it mean,” Hero asked, “to be your wife?”

***

“Supervillain paid for our room.”

Our room? Hero blinked hard before glancing around the hotel lobby. Well, it was beautiful, but Hero hardly had the brain capacity to think about that. “You said our room,” she commented, lips thin and an eyebrow quirked.

“We’re husband and wife.”

“We’re pretending to be husband and wife,” Hero said in a hush-hush tone, hand squeezing Villain’s for umph.

Even as she said it quietly, Villain scolded her lightly, “Lower your voice if you’re going to say things like that.” Villain began his trek to the elevator, arm extending behind him as Hero followed, hand still in his. As much as she hated this act, she sure did like to hold his hand, it seemed. Maybe it was her anxiety which told her any hand was a good hand, even if it were stained in life after life of blood and tears.

“I don’t want to share a room with you,” Hero whispered, so low that Villain wouldn’t have heard her fully had he not turned his ear towards her as they walked down the hall of the seventh floor. “How will I know you won’t take advantage of me?”

Right. No handcuffs. “You think I’d try to kill you after I called you and begged for your help?”

“It could be a trap,” Hero said, tugging her hand out of Villain’s, stopping in the middle of the hall.

“Maybe. But imagine if it isn’t a trap. Imagine you back out now, and the world goes extinct. What regrets would you have then? Surely, they wouldn’t be as bad as committing yourself to a trap, causing only yourself harm instead of billions.”

His tone wasn’t condescending, but it held such magnificence that Hero couldn’t help but cast her eyes downward and nod in silent guilt. Guilt because why couldn’t she have thought of such a scenario on her own? Was she selfish for being so afraid of Villain?

“You’re right.” Hero nodded. “You’re right and I’m sorry.”

Villain took her hand in his own again, softly, with fragile care. “You don’t need to apologize. Your nerves aren’t without reason. I’ll admit I’m not the most trustworthy man. I get it. Remember you are not jeopardizing yourself for me. You’re doing it for the world.”

***

The bed was comfortable- even with Villain laying by Hero’s side. Actually, Villain being by her side might have been what made it so comfortable. The blanket which the hotel provided was too warm, but the body heat which Villain radiated was just comfortable enough that Hero struggled to keep her distrusting eyes open.

“I don’t believe this,” Hero whispered in the dark of the room, expecting Villain to be fast asleep. Apparently, he slept as little as she did.

Villain rolled flat against the mattress before turning on his other side to face Hero, earning a light gasp of surprise from her. “About Supervillain?” he asked- suggesting that Supervillain was still alive.

After regaining a state of sanity, Hero mumbled that, yes, Supervillain being alive seemed unreal, but that wasn’t what she meant. She meant that she was laying next to a man who she both despised and was deathly frightened of, and yet she was comfortable with it- comfortable with his heat. It shouldn’t have meant much; it was only science at play, but it still irked her. Of course, Hero didn’t say any of this.

“It isn’t so bad sharing a bed, is it?” Villain yawned and did a little stretch with his arms, groaning as the skin and muscles of his torso stretched. “You have your side. I have mine.”

“Not so bad,” she agreed.

There was still a danger to it, Hero acknowledged. She was still side-by-side with a villain, still frightened by the thought of Villain silently reaching over the moment he heard Hero’s breathing slowing, pushing a knife against her sleeping body, and shiv her through without a thought. It was possible, and it was likely, wasn’t it?

“Have you thought about what you’ll do tomorrow?” Villain asked.

“Me?” Hero swallowed. “I…no, I haven’t thought about it.”

“That’s unlike you.”

Hero turned her head over her shoulder, finding Villain’s moonlight glinting eyes. “Asking someone for help is unlike you. What made you do it?”

“I couldn’t do it alone. I told you-”

“That’s not the truth. Well, it is, but it’s not the full truth.” Hero paused. “When have you ever admitted that you aren’t enough to accomplish a goal? You sought me out for my intelligence, but what else? You don’t ask for help, Villain. It’s not who you are.”

Silence followed, giving hero enough time to gather the courage it took to roll over, to face Villain with her whole body like he did with her before yawning.

“I’m scared,” Villain said, matter-of-factly. “I’m scared that when it is all over, then history will forget me for all the terrible things I’ve done.”

Confused, Hero asked, “Wasn’t the reason you chose the dark side because your crimes would be so extravagantly memorable?” This conversation wasn’t aiding Hero’s underlying fear of lying in bed with Villain. Still, she wanted answers.

“I realized I was wrong. If I don’t do something good for once, I’ll be remembered as a monster, and you see, I want to be remembered as a legend.” Villain drew in a deep breath, turning his head slightly away from Hero before exhaling. “There’s a difference between monsters and legends, I realized. Honour is legendary; Fear is monstrous. Having said that, there’s no fear in honour, so what’s the point in all those criminal activities except mindlessness and naivety? It’s not as fun or rewarding as I thought it’d be.”

“You stay awake and think at night like I do, don’t you?”

Villain nodded. Hero nodded.

Hero’s hand slid across the sheets until her fingertips touched Villain’s. Holding his hand was comforting when she considered they would be meeting Supervillain tomorrow- that Villain’s face would be the only familiar one, the only one she could trust even though she hardly even trusted it at all.

Hearing what Villain said now, in the deepest stage of the night…maybe he was worth trusting.

Maybe there was a good reason she was holding his hand.

And maybe there was a good reason she enjoyed the warmth that rolled off her body.

Maybe there was a reason beyond anxiousness and fear that made Hero’s heart beat a little faster than usual.

“Do you think we could both be legends?” Hero asked, to which Villain responded, with a tight squeeze of Hero’s hand:

“I do.”

It wasn’t the only time he would utter those words. Next time, Hero would be wearing a white gown, and Villain, a tux.

[ialwaysknewyouwerepunk]

fearless - a close reading

this is louis speaking from the heart, getting so honest it hurts. good thing these lyrics are not directed at me bc wow i would be brittle. it’s louis the strong leader shining through, the wise older brother who gently offers advice when someone he cares about is going in the wrong direction. yea ig i did that sorry 

i care about this one a lot, and genuinely it’s just another fucking banger, so here we go.

walls, track 8

*playground noises*

Cash in your weekend treasures  For a suit and tie, a second wife

(another inconsistency with louis’s album booklet: there it says “cashing” - imp “cash in” makes the most sense, since otherwise there wouldn’t be a sentence)

“weekend treasures” - earns money over the weekend? has fun? good experiences? or is it sarcastic and is “you” just escaping for the sake of it

“cash in”: exchange your fun life for the one in a suit with a wife - living a double life

“suit and tie”: trope of the businessman with the family living a lie (- she)

superficial - looks, image of someone who has their shit together

Now I’m not saying that you could’ve done better Just remember that I, I’ve seen that fire alight

i’m saying you can be better though. i’m an old friend, i know you, and i can see now that your fire has been extinguished

Tell me, do you, tell me, do you still remember feeling young? Tell me the truth, tell me, do you still remember feeling young

conversation; louis is pressing the matter gently, repeating his question with added “tell me the truth” bc “you” is lying, to louis and to themselves

“you” can live a lie all they want but louis sees through it and won’t take them lying to him too. louis wants to get the truth out of them in order to help them

always “young” - old friends, lifelong experiences

And strong enough to get it wrong in front of all these people?

“you” is not being strong atm, though they used to be

“enough” - implies that the challenges and expectations are high and it takes a lot of strength to handle them

“you” is afraid to fail, and though they used to be resilient enough to get back up when it did happen, they lost that will to fight

“all these people” - who are they? an audience, watching? people judging them? “these” also implies they’re still there, and also that they’re close to/ (perhaps) watching louis - otherwise he would’ve used “those”

general “they” on walls, always with the eerie connotation of people judging, exercising influence

“wonder what they’d say if they could see us now” - wmi

“don’t know why they put all of this on us when we’re so young” - wmi

“when they said a love like this would never last” - too young

“and they’ll say, ‘i told you so’” - only the brave

Just for tonight, look inside and spark that memory of you Strong enough to get it wrong in front of all these people

stop ignoring yourself, for once

this person has thoroughly lost themselves: they need to spark the memory first, since that “you” is buried so deep down

“spark” - “fire alight”: keeping up the metaphor of this person’s personality and life force as fire, burning bright

Fearless, fearless Fearless, fearless

remember when you were fearless? 

come on, babe, let’s be strong, proud, happy

Now if happiness is always measured By the life you design, that car on the drive

a life by design: fake

material possessions won’t bring you happiness, although “you” seems to be chasing happiness in that direction - got priorities wrong

louis’s own mentality about happiness shining through: it’s all about staying true to yourself, that’s when you’re truly happy

Then you should feel better than ever But you know as well as I, it’s all lies

“we’re in the same boat” - louis knows about this side of life: trying to chase happiness through wealth + living a lie

the life you have as a celebrity is not real: the riches, the attention, the stories; but “you” has lost sight of that, lost themselves in it - started living the lie without staying grounded in their real self, like they used to

implication that a celebrity always leads a double life, no matter what, and the way to stay sane is to keep that split in check, keep those lives separate

Tell me, do you, tell me, do you still remember feeling young?

SYNTHESIS

In Louis’s own track by track, he stays very close to the lyrics (for once) when explaining what the song is about. Additionally, our Peter Pan says that it’s about “encouraging youth and a little bit of recklessness.” *act my age starts playing*

This definitely reminds me of Louis’s relationship with a certain someone, but I’ll leave that in the middle. (There’s so many interpretations that I won’t interfere with your own findings, or my own future findings for that matter. I’d honestly love to hear whatever you think about this song!!)

In any case, Fearless is interesting in how it tells a story about someone else, someone Louis is speaking to and knows well, while it reveals a lot about Louis too. This “you” that has lost their way, lost their spark, has gone down a path that Louis could have gone down too, and maybe he almost did, or even tried out for a bit. Louis is full of patience and understanding, because he knows how hard it can be. He also knows, and says, that it’s necessary to keep re-evaluating yourself and what you’re doing in order to not get lost. He knows how easy it is to lose yourself and lose sight of what really makes you happy. It’s what he’s been singing about throughout the entire album.

Here, his friend, who he’s talking to as if he’s an older brother, almost, seems to have given up the fight without meaning to. What that fight is, in specifics, is something we’ll never know, of course, but Louis is still very revealing. Money, a second wife? If there’s one thing celebrities have said is how easy it is to lose yourself once you’re in the limelight. The attention, the money, the whirlwind of press surrounding you, a manufactured image to keep fans and labels/... as happy as possible... it sounds like hell to try to stay sane. If you have a network of people around you who genuinely care about your wellbeing, you might succeed in keeping your feet on the ground, but not everyone is that lucky. “They” might not have your best interests at heart, which is something Louis seems to have a lot of experience with. 

Being a celebrity and staying sane as a someone in the public eye involves this image that’s all lies, but Louis seems to be saying that there’s no way around it. He’s definitely been vocal about how the industry is full of shitty experiences, Copy of a Copy of a Copy as a loud example of that, but he might be saying that the public image, the front that the fans and outsiders believe in, is necessary to be able to maintain some sanity, privacy, happiness. 

What “you” has been doing, though, is leaning into that life, that image, that focuses only on material wealth, looks, having the picture-perfect job and relationship, and has lost of who they are along the way. And Louis, their friend since a long time, is asking them to calm the fuck down and use their brain for just one second to see if they can even remember who they used to be. (Honestly, if someone would ask me that? If I could spark the memory of me? I would burst into tears and sob until I was dehydrated. Seriously wtf.) 

So, I definitely think there is truth in what Louis said in his track by track, but it digs a little deeper than just asking his friend to take life less seriously. As usual.

I hope the person who this song was directed to got the message and perhaps also made the decision to spend some more time with his old friend Tommo, bc he’s on the right side of things here. (As I think he usually is.) And he’s got their back.

[tele-caster]

Journal.

1:07 PM 7/24/2023

If your abscence doesn't make them reach out to you, your prescense was never a priority to them. Meaning that they never cared, you never matted neither you are liable.

More than 2 months have passed by and have these fuckers reached out to me? Neither will I. Call it pride, but the abuse of people you call so " friends " and them actually being fucking snakes makes me angry, mad, confused and even worse… Get me to even dive into the dark side of my self where I really dont give a fuck. Please do not get me wrong, I really love, and love hard… But I really don't give a fuck even harder when it comes to that.

What happens when you're left for dead, alone and never coming back from the dead? Because this is what people who harm think. That there's no power, no resources, no education, no money and the list goes on and on. They think they have literally destroyed you. However, the reverse polarity law comes into an effect to it's best timing in order not to harm back, but to provide a lesson. Since everything is interconnected and time isn't linear ( as people think it is, because of a clock ) anything you give it will actually come back, being honest I've experienced this weird event and effect of this strange world we call planet earth.-

I should even stop writing and thinking about losers. Yeah, that's what losers do… Talk bad about a true, honest, love living friend. People want bad, they fucking really do, because they want to be seduced terrificly on, they want gluttony, they need greed and excess on everything which leaves any individual on the drift. But not me, after trying so many times in love life, friends, family, near ones, business mates and so on… I've figured out that this is a hu-mane problem, this is the point where I actually ask myself again that what the fuck is wrong with people? This is actually, my reality at the moment. Not giving fuck, what the fuck is going on, and get to fucking work.

Spent the weekend working on classical works and shadow woking. Besides watch some movies on my own, I noticed some change on the fact that I have distanced myself from true, honest and transparent emotions from the humans ( yes, the humans, since I do not consider myself as one of them ) Gothic type like, old money aesthetics, documentaries, investigative, criminological and psychologicals are my favourites if I'm asked.

But… I had this small touch with a romance dramedy. It kind of kept me thinking in a of things about love, and of course, again is a movie. But certain aspects of the movie, guess where they come from? Real life, and people think is the opposite. So, like I was saying, generally I do feel somehow distant from normal conversations, love indeed is not in the air for me, I've stopped looking and gave it up to the higher power and intelligence that has me here, writing and breathing for you at this very moment.

Am I so hard to love, or do people actually make me feel and look in such a way that, I may have trapped myself in someone else's idea? I say I'm different. I like it when they state that I'm weird because I know that my weirdness attracts your sanity and insanity to prove something that you think that " you know " or " understand " why I am like that. Being weird is mysterious, fun, untraceable, profound, investigative, effortless and many more things that mundane people won't be able to understand properly neither try to. Hahahahahaha, it makes me laugh because what they usually do is just act based on what they want from it, not what they can or should provide to it. The weirdness, not the person. Weird, is a vibe not a place, thing, animal or person.

If you're alone you've got no problems but yourself to be picked up from the ground and clean the dust to keep walking. What a marvelous thing to know.

[nocluewhatsupg]

Slashers’ reactions to you living in their vents

one of the mods got a very rare disease don’t google it you won’t get answers but if he doesn’t see some fresh slasher tiddie in the upcoming collector film he’s gonna fucking die

Michael Myers

Crouched near the cold vent opening, you peer up at the tall man. Michael paused the violent daydreaming he was doing to tilt his head slightly down, and stare right back at you. This continues for a good while, as the sunlit common room bustled with life around the two of you.

He’s chill about it. Probably because he simply believed Loomis got his medication confused and he was tripping balls or something. Had quietly entertained the idea of escaping through your impressive vents, but he’d never fit. It was much funner to smash heads into doors than stealthing around anyway.

Pins a blanket over the vent opening in his cell just in case. Hypocrite.

Since he couldn’t get to you, and snap you in half, he begrudgingly allowed you to exist in his presence. You found him such a curious inmate, and since he hadn’t tried to tear your spine from your body, you hung around. Any conversation you had was one sided, and he didn’t play along with your suggestion of “blink twice for yes, three times for no”. He accepted any gifts you’d give him, especially candy your nimble hands took from the cafeteria. They were gifts, even if he’d violently kick your vent until you handed them over.

Michael would simply wait until your excitement died down and you realize he wasn’t anything more interesting than a cardboard box. Nothing you said got a reaction out of him, no matter how hard you tried. Even when you dramatically proclaimed your love to him through his cell’s vent, on a beautiful night, he did nothing but pin a blanket over the opening and returned to sleeping with gentle moonlight pouring over him.

When he stages his escape, you stayed in your vents, and you were forced to retreat deep inside the building as he tore open the cover and stuck his arm inside. Looks like all the time you’d spent together never mattered to him, and he didn’t even bother to ensure your death. You’d be waiting for him when he came back, and you finally remembered how cold the damn vents really were.

Jason Voorhees

He is baffled you found a vent in the middle of the woods in the first place.

It was discarded, fallen from a construction van that had driven through the area, and wasn’t missed. From there, nature took its course, short brown mushrooms and elegant green moss covering the artificial silver. Insects burrowed underneath, and lizards enjoyed both the heat and the shade it provided.

Jason doesn’t break a sweat dislodging the vent (and you) from the ground and hoisting it high above his head. The sharp scent of fresh dirt was the last thing you smelled before he violently chucked you directly into the lake <3.

Brahms Heelshire

He got a new nanny, stared at their attractive appearance for one glorious day, then watched them vanish overnight.

With panic, he tore the house upside down searching for them, calling with every voice he could produce, but he found no one but rats.

Dust had clawed at your throat when you stepped into the hollow walls. It became apparent fast someone lived in them, newspaper clippings and disturbing little notes scattered throughout the passages. Through the carved out eyes of paintings hung on the wall, you followed a tall, masked man around the mansion. World’s most bizzare tour.

The longer you watched, the more your terrified expression melted to a mild understanding. The child’s calls drew for you a perfect picture; he was lonely. He must’ve stared from these very walls at other folks for years, dreaming of being out there with them, laughing and dancing. He was outcasted, and what could’ve been an extravagant, luxurious life became one of solitary and strain. Something unjustly tore that life from him, and he was forced to stomach the repercussions alone.

On the other hand, his brown hair was long and greasy. His clothes had holes. He was a visibly grown man making a child’s voice. What the fuck are you doing get out of there he’s going to fucking kill you and if he gains popularity he’s going to be turned into an even shittier bootleg Annabell movie.

Out of sheer luck, you managed to live along side him. He too walks in the walls as you do, but you were careful to keep yourself away from him. The way you got away with what you did was probably because he wasn’t actively looking for you, as even the smallest effort would lead him to spot you. You ate as he did, slept as he did, went through all sorts of noise producing actions as he did. You noticed how he lived, and mimicked it.

Of course, you didn’t really want to live like this. It was bizzare, but you felt as if you’d dug yourself into a hole too deep. If you showed yourself, you feared the worst. Or maybe you enjoyed this strange lifestyle, to each their own.

When Malcom came with supplies, he didn’t seem to mind the empty house. He lingered in the mansion occasionally, until the burn of both your gaze and Brahms’ gaze made him leave with the hairs on his neck standing up. You knew Brahms watched from the opposite wall that you were in, as you knew where the holes were, and you could occasionally see a flash of his white mask.

Brahms left the walls occasionally, and you eventually realised he followed a schedule, each step posted on the insides of the walls. His excursions were very brief, only when he had to make something happen outside, like eating or setting music. Then he retreated to the walls.

The more you watched, the more hesitant you became to outing yourself to him. You learned a lot about him, and the top thing that you noticed was that he was a grade A nutcase. Everything he did, even the simple things, were alien to a normal person’s train of thought. So you watched, and waited, gathering information to produce the best possible answer. Embrace the odd life, confront him, or quietly run?

As he often did, Brahms ate the last of the food during breakfast. He had no reason to spare, but you knew he ate more that usual on these days. It would take him a while to exit the kitchen, as you knew he liked to loiter and watch the rain splatter on the kitchen windows. This, along with the fact that Malcom would be arrving around noon, made today the best possible day to put your plan into action. You knew the kitchen door was unlocked, and the garden had a thick maze you could hide in. Not even once did it cross your mind how odd it was that you knew so much from watching a man, and if you had thought of that, you’d worry for your sanity.

Instead of the trap door Brahms took, which was settled on the ceiling of the kitchen, you took a slightly longer route. Your route, through a lose piece of wall in the living room, allowed for good stealth. As you reached your exit, you anxiously wondered how he’d react. You wondered if it would be odd that you’d stayed for so long. The lavish living room had the lingering smell of a put out fire, and the tap of raindrops masked your footsteps as you tiptoed to the kitchen.

Old habits died hard, and you paused at the arched opening leading to the kitchen, peeking your head out to watch him. It was then, as Brahms dug through a cabnet, that you realised that one thing slipped by your infinite wisdom. You hadn’t thought of the best way to confront him. What to say, where to be, what to do. You fought to settle your nervous breath from growing in volume, gripped the wooden pillar you hid behind, and gave a quick prayer.

He didn’t notice you step out into the opening, as your hands twisted your shirt anxiously. It was only when you set your foot on a loose floorboard, and the creak echoed loud, did he snap his head up. It was difficult to tell if he recognized you through the dust that settled on your face, and you had no idea what emotion was painted on his. Brahms stood quiet as you decided the best thing to do was introduce yourself, and shakily, you did.

After the shock of learning of your existance settled, he did something all your watching could never have prepared you for. He skipped right over why, or how you were living here all these months. What brought you to the Heelshire mansion bored him. No, he instead scolded you. He snapped at how irresponsible you were, hiding from him, neglecting your duty.

Then he did something you predicted. He grew angry. Brahms slammed his fist on the table, and shouted for your explanation. He mocked you as you stumbled for an answer. When what you did say didn’t satisfy him, he pulled a knife from the fat block sitting on the counter. Nothing you could’ve said would’ve worked for him, and even if something did, he would pretend that it didn’t.

It was a little past mid day, a frightened glance to the clock told you. He slept in, and so did you. The clock wasn’t your priority at the moment, as Brahms didn’t care for the fear in your eyes and decided to advance. With adrenaline making your heart go twice as fast, and the thought of your blood gushing on the tiled floor making your mind go blank, the first words that came from your mouth you didn’t even think through.

Giving him a taste of his own medicine, you scolded him right back. It was past noon, and the schedule stated that he had things to do that he neglected. To your amazement, he froze, and you drew more strength into your words. There were things that still had to be done, how dare he neglect that too. You kept your head as high as you could, turning your terrified expression into a disappointed glare, and he stopped. To your command, he dropped the knife, and it clattered to the floor. When you told him to, he shuffled back around and continued eating, occasionally glancing over his shoulder. If he had a tail, it’d be curled weakly between his legs.

You felt like you were going to pass out. You thanked whatever higher being you believed in for that stroke of intelligence. Of course, Brahms didn’t offer you any of his meal, but you didn’t care. You had him under control, at least for now. Patiently, you waited for him to finish, keeping your guard and your confidence way high. The schedule would be followed, and you’d see just what you could get away with. This bizzare predicament could actually work out in your favor.

Billy Lenz

Hey, he thought of doing it first! Dirty copycat. What are you going to do now, get a buddy and start calling people and playing jeopardy with them before you murder them?? Turn this serious and deep genre of film into meta satire???

He’s as surprised as you to see you crawling around in the attic. You might even get a chance to explain yourself before he murders you.

You better start explaining, especially since he’d seen you downstairs, chatting with the other members of the house naturally.

With the charm that got you into that house in the first place, you carefully explain how you didn’t really technically live in the house. How you never technically joined the college, and never technically applied to be part of the house.

Okay, neat. So basically what he’s doing, minus the socialization. Wow. Aren’t you so creative. When he began to give you a strange look, you gave him a quirky little salute, and evacuated the attic as fast as you could.

He lingered in your mind as you ate dinner that didn’t belong to you, visible fear in your expression. You stared at the cracks in the ceiling, and swore you could see the whites of his eyes gleaming in the black darkness. It horrified you, how he was you, but incredibly mentally unstable.

To prove how upset he was at your existence, he strangled your roommate that night, as they slept only feet away from you. You awoke to a cold, clammy corpse, that you stared at in horror.

With guilt fresh on your expression, you abandoned the body quietly. You pried the window in the room open, then threw the pillows and blankets from your bed to mimic a fight. When another housemate discovered the corpse, their alarmed shouts warned you to seek refuge in the attic. It was there that you mulled over the pickle you’d found yourself in, an irrational, impulsive decision leaving your future grim.

Billy wasn’t content with finding you in the attic again. Between fighting his clawing hands, you desperately tried to convey how your lives are now entwined, whether he likes it or not. If you were caught, you explained through gritted teeth, you’d bring him down with you. Of course, he could simply kill you and dodge the more difficult option, so you’d better keep talking sweet if you wanted to live. He had nothing to gain from befriending you, but you had everything to lose.

In the end, you had to give up more than you were comfortable giving a psychotic, attic dwelling stranger. You promised yourself you’d get worse in jail. Maybe he didn’t care about what you feverishly promised. Maybe he just wanted you out of his face, and you probably guessed right, as the second you stopped talking he slid down the opening of the wall and desended to watch the house’s residents flutter with panic.

To your bewildered surprise, it worked. You were classified as a missing victim, and no one ever came to the dusty attic. The payment for this shakey freedom was anything but nice. Often he’d push you from the attic, forcing you to scale down the exterior brick wall with cold wind blowing on your back. There was little warning, and you never knew how long you had to wait in the snow while he did whatever he did. Sometimes he’d scream at you until you left to procure an item for him; usually food. How you got it, he didn’t care, you wouldn’t be allowed back in without it. He saw quickly he could make you do whatever he wanted, and he shamelessly took advantage of that. It almost seemed like your life was his game, which at this point, it might as well be.

Billy rarely slept soundly for long, awakening after two or three hours of rest with a panicked scream. Then, like nothing ever happened, he’d casually go to do something else. He slid noisily down the wall to observe everyone else sleeping. He tore into one of the boxes that surrounded the both of you and explored its contents. On the worst occasions, he’d come bother you, shaking you awake for no good reason. You never snapped at him, because this was better than jail...Right?

Then he began to kill the other residents, returning in the morning with blood splattered on his clothes. He went put of his way to touch you, mumbling the late resident’s name as he painted you red. The first few times made you gag. By the time careful surveillance was set on the house, you didn’t care anymore. You slept during the day, to stay wide awake at night incase he got caught and you needed to bolt. Billy returned from his excursions in the morning as well, and would crawl in your already warm mattress and mumble until he passed out.

When there was no one left in the house, you thought fast. You coaxed him from the attic. Hand in hand, you led him through the shadowy forest, and to the attic of a new, unexpecting house. He smiled at you that day, a real, genuine smile not clouded by madness. The cycle began again, as he slid down the walls and carved new peeping holes. You were so numb. Your blood was black with guilt. You watched the new residents going about their business through the attic’s window, and you found your stomach so twisted you couldn’t eat. The only breath of fresh air you got was daydreaming, of what your life could’ve been if you’d just chosen any other house so long ago.

The oddest thing occured in the new house. He, for once, comforted you. You felt as if you looked into a mirror, as he even said the same things that you’d say to him. But he couldn’t shake the coldness in your core, and with a frostbitten body you were forced to assure him you were fine. Billy shrugged, ate the food you didn’t, and slid back down the walls. Through the dark window, where a small candle allowed you to see your distraught appearance, you knew this would be your life. You’d drag him from house to house, untill he’d killed everyone in the world, and the last person for him to kill was the only one that really deserved it.

Asa Emory

He notices you missing from the collection fast. Escapes weren’t uncommon, but he wasn’t too bothered by it.

He expected to see your mangled, shredded corpse cooling on one of his highly advanced traps. There was nothing to worry about.

When you didn’t show up gutted and gored within a few days, he began to worry. The though of your bewildered face appearing before the police, a wide, fearful expression before reporters made him nervous. If you’d ran out of hell, you’d know how to run back in.

The news interview that would shock the generation never came, and the ouchie he got on his ego healed. That left the obvious final option that you had, or eventually would, expire and waste away alone in a dark corner. That filled him with a good feeling, that you’d suffer a cold death for running from him.

So when he was met with your wild, smirking face in a vent, he felt some sort of way. Mostly anger. You’d not only killed his ego, but spat on it too.

You’d scrambled away before he could grab your boney ankle and strangle you, leaving him to smash his bathroom mirror in rage.

Unfortunately, Asa worked as an exterminator, and you were nothing more than another pest. He wondered if you too would still scramble if he cut your head off. Murder was off the menu that night, and he let you gloat your near death experience for only one final time.

The next day, he patiently set bait. An empty, blood splattered room would do. In the middle sat an empty trunk, and an unsupervised meal. It seemed as if someone lived there, and had been pulled away from a mouth watering dish. Or, a very obvious trap.

If your hunger got the best of you, you slid through the rather snug vent along the floor, quietly moving the grate from its place. A click echoed, just barely loud enough to be heard over the dogs howling.

He watched your heart drop. He watched it shatter as you turned to your sneakly little vent, and find that it was locked shut. A thick metal plate had slid from the wall and trapped you. Not too far after the realization settled frigid in your stomach, did a soft hiss of escaping wind begin to grow.

The exterminator’s poison was clear, but it was not painless. Whether you cried and begged, or you silently glared in defeat, he wouldn’t let you out. You accept the hotel’s damp, rotten air, or you choke on it.