#my beloved sociopath

[dasistblod]

"she doesn't know what it means to be chosen by a god" -Faulkner, about Carpenter, chapter 5

[sodomy-enabler]

No hate to anyone making this kind of post (and also I don't have npd as far as I know so take this with a grain of salt), because I strongly agree with the take that the issue with people conflating the disorder and just "narcissist" as an insult is that npd shouldn't have been called that in the first place (not even getting into my anti-psychiatry takes on how personality disorders are framed and conceptualized because otherwise this is going to get too long), but personally I still eliminated narcissist from my vocabulary because I don't want pplwnpd to have to ask themselves if I just mean self-centered or if I'm one of those "narc abuse" assholes, it's not a matter of meaning or performative allyship, it's a matter of making people around me who are affected by this know they don't have to keep their guard up around me. And it doesn't cost me anything so..

[cassianandfenrysaremyboyos]

I'm sorry but this just pisses me off (Not Hunt obviously, but Bryce)

Bryce rant incoming which you can just ignore and I'll probably delete later

But Bryce just puts all the blame on the Asteri. And yes ultimately they are to blame in the larger sense of things. But Bryce plays a direct role in leading them down the path that results in Hunt, Ruhn and Baxian being caught. It was her need to find out Danika's secrets with no thought to the consequences, her idea to go to the Eternal City. And she takes NO personal responsibility for it at all!

Hunt is blaming himself for everything that's happened. Even when it's not his fault at all. When we're in his pov he's constantly drowning in guilt, thinking about how he should of done more, he should of tried harder, he should of been better, how it's all his fault this happened and that his friends suffered.

And then Bryce does none of that. When we're in her pov she doesn't really show any major guilt. I can't think of any times when she blames herself like Hunt does. And I'm not saying she should be wracked with guilt. But a normal person, a good person, will usually feel bad and will feel guilty and blame themselves to some degree when something bad happens and people they care about are hurt, regardless of how big or small they're involvement is, or even if they're not at fault at all, case in point Hunt being wracked with guilt even when it's not his fault.

And to make it worse she acknowledges that Hunt warned them, warned her. But that she disregarded it and would of done it no matter what.

And then she has the audicity to say she doesn't regret it. And she thought they were on the same page. ON THE SAME PAGE!!?? Hunt made it clear in hosab that he didn't want to go down this road again, that he didn't want to get involved. YOU just didn't listen Bryce. And yeah Hunt's an adult, he can make his own decisions and he could of said no and not gone. But of course, OF COURSE!! he wasn't going to let Bryce go down that road alone, because he loves her, and doesn't want anything to happen to her, and wants to protect, so of course he would never desert her. But that doesn't mean he wanted to do it!

For Bryce to be that unaware of Hunt's feelings, when he explicitly stated them. For her to be that disconnected from her mate's feelings that she's surprised that he wasn't really on board is kinda unfathomable to me. Just that complete lack of awareness really does make her look quite selfish/self centered.

Anyway sorry, this post is a mess but I just had to vent

And then when Hunt mentions the consequences he and his friends faced, Bryce makes it about her pain. She's hurt that Hunt mentioned that they suffered. And the worst part is, Hunt then regret's it, he regrets saying something that hurts Bryce, because he cares about her and feelings. And she does not consider his feelings to the same degree

It just pisses me off

[thecharlesfortcabal]

[adelaidedrubman]

i don’t know why for the first time in uh. jesus christ three years of wildfire being a wip the full implications of jestiny’s refusal to ever ask john a follow-up question about his stated family history only just now occurred to me.

all she knows is that he went by the last name duncan at some point and changed it to seed (it is never clarified to her if this is a fleetingly used alias or a previous birth name although it is implied via an out of context boj line he did return to seed from duncan in adulthood) and that he inherited family money. she has never been told about the separation/adoption/reunion. the only seed whose family history she has actually been briefed on is faith, who tracey explained was previously named rachel and was adopted presumably at or around adulthood without a prior seed family history, and she has vaguely absorbed during dissociative states that there had been prior women who were adopted and changed their name to faith seed. it has not been explained to her if/when john shared parents with joseph and jacob and which parents it would have been.

so her easiest reasonable conclusion here would be either that john, joseph, and jacob always had the same parents and thus that jacob and joseph also have family wealth but just chose to not be annoying about it and john really is just particularly hypocritical OR that none of the seeds are biological siblings and john (and potentially jacob) were also adopted as adults to become part of the seed family. potentially there have even been an entire line of john the baptists before this fucking guy got the gig.

she doesn’t know. she doesn’t ask, even when she does try to subtly pry about his parents. she doesn’t think about it it doesn’t enter her mind. the extent of her caring about his origins here was “he grew up with money so he’s my enemy” followed quickly by “i think he was dropping hints at dinner that he killed his parents. hey unrelated does anyone around here know if he’s single or if he likes women or how big his dick is by any chance”

[koisura-art]

I love Pariston Hill, so I drew him. Can't wait to hopefully see more of him once the Hiatus is over.

[byeletty]

don't tell anyone but I started a Sherlock rewatch and I'm about to be back on some serious bullshit 🙃

[totallyawesome123]

Does anyone want to teach me about antisocial personality disorder I want to wrote a well informed character with it but most of my research says Evil Murder Desease (kill on sight) and I Know for a fact that is not all there is to it like I'm doing my best but some firsthand sources would help

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

A Day in Life

Synopsis: A day in the life of Jason Todd. Also, he's a househusband now. Oh, and a little plot twist.

Pairing: Househusband!Jason Todd X Gn!Reader; Platonic!Batfam

Tw: Canon level angst for Jason; Some sexual innuendos; Writer apparently doesn't know how to finish a story anymore; This is pretty slice-of-life so maybe boring?; English is not my first language.

Word count: 3,8k

Requested? No.

General masterlist | A Day in Life - Series masterlist

Wake up, make out, get up. First steps of your everyday routine. Sometimes making out turns into something more, but not today.

From his past life, as Robin, Jason learned a lot about discipline. As much as he tried to forget everything and everyone from his past before you, some habits die hard, although with time, with you and with therapy, he accepted that not all of his experience was bad or should be thrown away just because of one sociopathic clown who hurt him. Yes, Jason died, came back angry and did a lot of shit. But he was still alive and this could be a second chance.

While you, his darling spouse, get ready for work, Jason gets up, puts on his apron, fills the dog bowl for Daphne — your little brown dachshund that you adopted together four months after getting married —, opens the doors to the garden, so the dog can do whatever, and finally starts making breakfast and lunch. Breakfast so you two can eat together and lunch for you to eat at work. Sometimes you both meet up and eat together at your office or a restaurant. Today, that's not the case.

Simple yogurt with fresh fruits and nuts, coupled with a slice of chocolate cake he baked the day prior, eggs, toast and coffee for breakfast. As for your lunch box, a natural sandwich, salad, fruits and juice. He also fills up your two liter water bottle, so you feel pressured have no excuse but to stay hydrated.

Food. Until he was 12 his relationship with food was complicated, to stay the least. At first, his beloved but troubled mom would be in no condition to cook him three or more nice and fulfilling meals a day for a growing boy, he either had to learn and make do with quick instant food, eggs and old bread, or starve, since money was something he only saw when it was being handled to her drug dealer. His father was even worse. Jason loved his mom. Still suffers for her. He hated his father who was the one making her addiction worse. He’s still happy he died.

Living on the streets, food was a dream. A bad dream. It either came from trash or he had to do things that made him feel humiliated and guilty just to get some. And it was gone in a flash, he was so hungry he devoured it all in a second, and then his belly hurt.

Then he came. Jason loved his new father. Loved his new grandfather. Loved their food. So healthy, abundant and full of taste. So fun to prepare. He learned a lot from Alfred because he loved to spend time with him, play with the ingredients and make everyone and himself happy with the results.

But then he had those memories wiped out of his mind, (un)fortunately they came back, but at that time food was in the back of his mind. Sure, he didn't have to worry about starving, crime paid more than enough for that, but he didn't put much thought into any of it.

Now, with you, he's making new memories with food. He cooked and baked a lot with you and for you throughout all your relationship, and you did the same for him. He loves his kitchen, just like the rest of your house. The pantry and fridge are always full thanks to you. You take good care of him. You make his trust in you be worth it. And he reciprocates it. Healthy and nice food that brings comfort and makes you roll your eyes. Especially after he started frequenting cooking classes as a hobby, again, thanks to you.

After you are gone with a full belly and a pet in the ass (just like him, honestly), he continues his routine. He changes clothes and goes to the gym. Jason never stopped exercising, but the lack of all the activity vigilantism entails and with all the treats you two have, he started getting more soft. You loved it, he hated it. — Okay he didn't hate it, he just wasn't the most happy with it. Roy thought it was kinda funny, until Jason pointed out he also got softer after Lian. You honestly couldn't see why all that softness they were talking about was so bad since they were still very muscular and defined, just less dry and more snuggly. You honestly thought your Jaybird could go even further. — So the addiction of yoga to his routine happened.

After that, he goes straight home, eats, showers, takes care of his appearance to keep looking like a proper hubby that you can shove on your bitter frenemies faces, and makes sure to keep the maintenance of the house, so you can come back tired from work and enjoy a perfect house to rest on.

Hygiene. Another things that was complicated with his biological family. His father wouldn't touch a single plate or broom, and would beat and scream at his mom if she didn't put her high (again, because of him) ass up and did the labor. Most often than not, their house was messy, had a bad smell that his little nose was so used to that it's not like he minded, and had insects around. His clothes were dirty hand-me-downs, some fit him, some didn't, a lot of them had holes. His hair tangled and itchy.

When he went to the streets, it just got worse.

Bruce and Alfred fixed that. He finally learned what stink was because he only knew good and neutral scents. His clothes fit him. Everything around him was clean and well-kept. No holes, no stains. Hair always trimmed, soft and clean. Well maintained.

When he came back, cleanliness was basic. Of course he is gonna keep everything around him clean. Habit and common sense, you know? Clothes his size because why the hell would he use hand-me-downs when he can just buy his own? And they had to be the right size for his new 6’2 and almost 200 lbs body. Hair? Whatever. Always washed but as long as it didn't look ridiculous he didn't have time to put much thought on his appearance. He was genuinely surprised you were attracted to him at first sight.

Being with you, he learned to enjoy the little things in life again. Sometimes he finds himself unmoving in front of a random room of the house, or in front of the mirror, trying to grasp if it's all real, If this is really his life, if that's how he looks. His mind flashes memories of his childhood home and his current home. He ignores the memories of the manor not only because of the betrayal he felt for Bruce, but also because the manor was from the Wayne's. He was a Wayne. He is not anymore. This is him. His new house, with you, is what he wished he had growing up. What he always dreamed of. Love. Company. And comfort. He felt all of that while being a Wayne, until he despised the Wayne's. Not the couple that died decades ago or the centuries old descendants. But his father and his siblings.

On days where he doesn't take care of the house, he practices his hobbies. He now has time to do it all, surprising you, his therapist, Roy, and himself, he did cooking, gardening, pottery, crocheting and of course, reading. You paid for all his classes, praised him on his achievements, added his creations to the decor of the house, accompanied him on any event or place related to his interests, gave him his own library in one of the rooms in the house. He even made some friends between middle-aged women and the only other househusband and stay-a-home dad that frequented those places.

It was very funny and cute seeing rough, huge, leather jacket wearing and scarred Jason Todd telling jokes to 50-year-old white moms/grandmas and sometimes even babysitting their kids, pets and plants. You knew he could be a good dad one day if you decided to have kids. He was also more than happy to have just you, Daphne and good friends. And plants.

Warmth. When he was a kid his parents broke the heater during a fight, he wondered if they didn't have money to fix it, even with his father's activities, or if his father just refused to fix it. Anyhow, it was always cold in Gotham, freezing on winter, his dirty clothes with holes didn't help much. The streets didn't seem much different in that aspect. The manor kept him warm when he wasn't seven feet under the dirt, in a casket. When he came back, Jason always wore the warmest of clothes, even while sweating, he didn't know why. Now he did. Your house is always warm. Your body is always warm. Comfort. Your love gave him comfort. Warmth. A reason to live.

Love. His mom. Bruce and Alfred. You.

After he was done and rested for a little, Jason took Daphne for a walk in the way to the grocery shop. He wanted to try a new receipt you saw on tiktok today for dinner and had to get more flour and something for the filling.

After a few minutes of walking on his perfectly nice looking and safe neighborhood — nothing like crime alley. The type of neighborhood he saw on the television and imagined those other happy kids his age living and envied them. Dreamed of being adopted into one of their families while jumping from orphanage to orphanage. It never happened. He just got more abused. And then the manor was so isolated that you could only see mansions and plants all around. So big and far away that they looked empty of life. — he got there and strapped the dog to a post, next to a smiley golden retriever.

He got in and- fuck it, I'm going home. The empanadas can wait another day.

— Jason? Oh my god. Jason! Is that you?! — The infuriatingly familiar loud voice calls out from the middle of the shop and all heads turn to look. Shit, he can't go now without embarrassing himself in front of the cashier of his favorite and most visited shop. So he just nods, takes a basket and walks as if there was nothing interesting happening. It worked with the others costumers, unfortunately, Dick thought it was way too interesting and forgot his own basket that only contained eggs and cereal, and started following him around, this time, with a less surprised tone.

— Hey, Dick. — Jason idly muttered, that just made his coff coff brother indignant.

— Hey, Dick?! What the hell? Where were you? It's been three years! We thought you were dead! Or kidnapped! We never stopped looking for you! We were worried! We mourned! What happened? — Was it bad that Jason didn't want to give him a real answer? Probably. Especially with how much his therapist, who he saw on the days he didn't go to the gym, told him he should try to mend things with his family. So much so that he started actually contemplating it recently. But if he did it, it was going to be on his own time. Not by bumping into them in the grocery store. Oh, well. Jason was always good at adapting. The best.

And wow, three years had passed? Makes sense. Recovery does take time and he's been really happy for a while. Jason still remembers the day he decided to quit everything. It was the same day he decided you were the one, truthfully he always knew you were marriage material, the perfect one for him, out of his league, straight out of his most amazing dreams, peak goal for him, but he wasn't sure if he deserved to be the one you should be stuck with forever. He desperately wanted to, but he had to commit. Ride or die. He loved you, now more than ever, and didn't want to waste your time. He was still a bit messy at the time, but you made it all better, he was a lot better than he was before you came into the picture. You were the right choice. Jason always took you seriously, he was just insecure. So, while still in around eight months of relationship, he quit everything.

He quit his family. He quit vigilantism. He searched for recovery. And a year and a half later, with a little more than two years of dating, he made the big proposal. You married on your three-year anniversary. Got Daphne four months later. It's been around three or four months ever since.

While Dick’s math might not be exact, it is not necessary in this context, the point came across just fine.

He also knew that the fact that you both decided to not leave Gotham was going to bite him in the ass one day. One way or another.

— What happened? Oh, well. I retired. Got married. And now I'm a dad. — Daphne was like a daughter to him, so it was the same, right?

His nonchalant reply didn't seem to satisfy the other, though. Todd could see it, the urge to strangle him in his eyes. Dick wouldn't strangle his dead missing little brother, would he?

— You… You what? — Dick was in disbelief.

— You guys searched for me? Thanks, I guess? It means a lot. — Jason just sniffed and went on his way, leaving Grayson behind, paralyzed.

Maybe he could be fast enough and get out of there before the older one got a grasp of his senses back and followed him out. Part of him felt hope, the other heard yours and his therapist voices in his head, and the nagging was annoying. Maybe he never stopped being a “grump”, like you always amusedly said.

Oh, no. Here he comes again. Jason suppresses an eye-roll.

— Stop. Can you really explain? — The mix of emotions was almost overwhelming, an urge to cry, punch a wall, punch Jason's face, scream and who knows what more was running through Dick's body.

Jason sighed and finally addressed him completely. Tone lower so no one could hear.

— Okay. I met someone… Someone good. Someone special. A civilian. I was tired of everything. So I decided to retire and made sure none of you could find me. I'm surprised Roy and Lian kept the secret from you, though. Anyway. Now I'm a stay-at-home hubby, have a dog and go to therapy. You happy? — A beat of silence. — Hey, don't make that face… I was going to tell you guys eventually… When I felt like it… It's not like you guys saw me a lot. How much time did it take for you all to miss me? I made an appearance once in a while when someone asked for help and that's it. Alfred knew everything so if you’re gonna be mad at anyone, be at him too, not just me… And Roy. Don't forget Roy.

— A-Are you kidding me? Oh, yes, blame the butler! You couldn't even tell us? Like “hey guys, I'm gonna retire and take some time for myself for a while. Also, come to my wedding!” I wanted to be invited, you know?! Why didn't you invite me? Did you at least invite Alfred? Did- — Jason rolled his eyes and cut his rant.

— Yes, Alfred was there. Front row and everything. — Dick shrieked.

— T-That’s not the point! — His voice raised slightly from exasperation and both of them checked around for anyone's attention, then came back to the conversation.

Jason raised a hand to interrupt him and took a deep breath.

— Look. I wasn't in a nice place at the time, okay? I'm better now… And I was going to talk to you guys sooner rather than later… — Jason let a moment of vulnerability shine, hoping that would melt his brother's heart and fix things. It did. — We will have a second wedding when we renovate our vows in our 5th anniversary. You can be there… Everyone can be there. — Jason cleared his throat to interrupt the other again. — But now I have to get home in time to make dinner for my honeyboo, so why don't we… Stay in contact and… One of those days everyone can have dinner together and catch up, huh?

Dick took one of the deepest breaths of his whole life. Jason pursed his lips.

— Okay… — He stuck a finger in his face roughly. — But don't disappear again. Or else I promise I’m gonna personally make everyone track you down, understood? — Jason snorted. As if Tim and Bruce wouldn't do it already once they knew everything. As if Bruce didn't secretly keep track of him this whole time. Unless… Unless everyone changed and he didn't know his… His family anymore.

Why did it make him feel weird?

— Yes, boss. — Jason saluted him and left.

— Relax… — You elongated the word. — Nothing bad it's gonna happen… — You went behind Jason and tried rubbing his broad shoulders to chase the tenseness away. The sight and feel of his muscles almost made you drool, and you blinked to focus again.

— How do you know? — You pursed your lips and went to his side to try to make him take his eyes off of cleaning the countertop for the 4th time due to anxiety.

— Because they love you. And they care about you. And they miss you. — Jason deadpanned you. — Just give it a chance. If anything goes wrong, we will just kick them out and you never have to talk to them, ever again. We can even move if you want. Or go on a vacation to the same place we had our honeymoon, I can wear that skimpy piece you like… Spoil you rotten… — Your voice lowered seductively and you pressed your body to his side, running your hand up and down his arms with some pressure.

Jason’s mind went blank and he was speechless for a few seconds. Your eyebrows raised with a small, convincing smile that made all his worries go away. He sighed.

— Okay… Okay, you’re right… — He leaned down and sneaked an arm around your waist. You both shared a slow and wet kiss, bordering between sensual and calming. Unfortunately, he had to wait a few hours before having some action. He pulled his face away a few centimeters, looking you in the eyes. — I thought I had ripped that thing. — You blinked.

— You just might have. But I bought another one because I looked too good on it not to wear it again. — You shared a chuckle when the doorbell rang. You both looked at the door, then at each other. — Want me to get it? — You ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm the last of his nerves. Jason swallowed.

— No. Have to get it over with. — He took a deep breath and then let out. Pulling away from your embrace. — Put the juice on the table for me, please? — You hummed and nodded.

Without giving a second thought, he walked in long strides and abruptly opened the door.

It was like that scene in Avengers: End Game when on one side there was just Captain America against the whole Thanos's army, just staring at each other.

— Are you wearing an apron? — Damian snarked with an eyebrow raised. Jason looked down. Yes, he was. Good start.

— Take your shoes off, there’s other shoes for you all there. And here I was having hope that at fifteen you wouldn't be a demon anymore. — Jason said sarcastically and gave them space to enter.

As soon as they got in the neighborhood they were all already skeptical. If you were the only one working, how much do you earn to live in such a nice area and with this nice house? They could even see a pool in the backyard and there were TWO expensive cars in the driveway. Jason said he quit all of the crime lord thing, did he keep the savings? Did he invest?

The little dog came running and barking, taking their attention away from the house and their shoes, Damian immediately crouched to pet her. Jason let a side of his lips go up. At least that hasn't changed.

— Her name is Daphne. — Jason spoke over the cooing of Duke and Cass at the dog. He locked eyes with Bruce who had an unreadable expression on his face. He looked older, Jason didn't know how to feel about that. Then gazed at Dick, who had a shit eating grin, Alfred, whose satisfied smile warmed his heart, and Tim, who was analyzing the space while changing shoes.

— Nice place. So, what does your partner do? — Are they committing fraud? — You appeared from the corner and replied for him.

— I direct the Queen Industries’s Gotham’s office. — You answered softly with a polite smile, stopping besides Jason, who wrapped an arm around you. Everyone's gaze turning on you made you feel shy, but you held on with confidence.

— Oh, wow, so Jason really is a malewife. — Your eyes widened in surprised and you couldn't hold back a laugh. Jason let a small smile graze his lips, coaxing the easiness out of him.

— I offered to pay cleaning and cooking service, but he wanted to do things himself. — You say, a little afraid they would get angry at you for “slavering” their Jason.

— Did you buy those cars outside? — Wow, Tim really was as skeptical as Jason had said.

— Hmhmm. — You nodded simply, as if it was nothing.

Jason's siblings raised their eyebrows and Bruce cleared his throat, and took a step forward, feet clad in fluffy slippers. He offered a hand and presented himself politely to you. You wondered how much of that was his persona and how much was just a father meeting his son's partner.

While giving them a tour of the house, the family — aside from Alfred who already knew it all — observed the details, happy memories in the form of pictures of trips, your marriage, birthdays, anniversaries, Daphne's growing stages, spontaneous moments that just deserved to be eternalized, trinkets, handmade pots, plants, Daphne’s toys, and the decor that was just a mix of you both. No guns in the walls, no corpses buried in the backyard, no blood stains. The only signals that it was their Jason living here and not a clone were the books, pictures and hidden security measures. 

It was… Good. Peaceful. Clearly the change in scenario helped him. It hurt them a little, some more than others, that it took him cutting them off for him to start healing, although, maybe opening up this new side of him for them meant that it wasn't just that. And it wasn't. The fault didn't fall completely on them. Nor on Jason. And one person, you, can't be the solution for all global crisis. Mental health is complex. Trauma is complicated. Past can't be changed, but the future can. 

That night, everyone enjoyed Jason's cooking, Daphne and the new future.

Like, comment and reblog 🥰

Taglist:

@wandalfnation

[theeminentlyimpractical]

god bless georgia tennant for being like. you know who can truly do this character justice as an angry pathetic tryhard rizzless ambitious and successful sociopath? my beloved husband.

[sillygoblinantics]

Are you proud of that joke?

How immature does one lowlife have to be to make a joke like this the same day a beloved man both to the people from his life and the people who grew up with his work dies?

How do you go on with claiming to be of indigenous decent when you show no respect or value to the land, people and spirits?

You are disgusting thinking that this is a “dark humor” joke at the expense of another life. Granted you’ve already “joked” about death before, you claim the US jokes about shootings and we don’t, no one does.

What person aside from a sociopath laughs at the pain and suffering of others and things. Show some basic fucking dignity, respect and selflessness for crying out loud.

You can’t backtrack from this, deleting it only paints you worse… and we’ve already seen it.

You are in your 30s and galavanting about like a 13 year old boy.

You are a grown woman, so start acting like one

My condolences and prayers go out to the friends and family of Mr jones.

I hope you’re proud of yourself Lilian Orchard

[ilianaoftroy]

Every once and a while I think about the forced birther here on Tumblr who basically said I was a sociopath because I work as an embryologist and expressed concern for women suffering pregnancy complications due to the overturning of Roe v Wade. They demanded examples and then rationalized the ones provided away. Admittedly, the legit articles I provided were behind a paywall, bc, you know, real research costs money. It was a non productive conversation because this person felt such circumstances were 'rare' and I guess didn't care if those women died.

The next day I performed an embryo transfer for a woman who had suffered five miscarriages requiring medical intervention in the past. Because of where she lives, she got care, still has a functioning uterus, and can try again to start a desperately wanted family with her beloved spouse. Then I signed congrats cards for 6 patients who had sent our office birth announcements.

It's been a year and I still think about the difficulties the patients I work with would face in other states. How I will never relocate places because I could be left untreated until septic, not to mention not have a job. How I have fewer rights than my mother did at my age. Today I came across this pay wall free paper, fairly limited in scope, confirming the complications in healthcare for pregnant people post Roe v Wade. But what I do know. I just work with people with complex pregnancies every day.

[theaffsbiggestfan]

Heheheheheheheheheheheheheheheh >:3

Sad reality of these worlds I am afraid… wish Timothy and SMG4 could be friends but sadly it was not meant to be… 😔

Also thank you for mentioning Timothy Can’t Meme. One day I will actually draw this saga. lol.

@theaffsbiggestfan said I needed to draw these two interacting, so here it is. SMG4 meets Timothy.

And I can never quite keep Timothy’s “scars” consistent. Meh. They’re veins anyway. Plus they grow and shrink depending on his mood anyway.

Mikel and I have a running joke that Timothy can’t meme, and it’s gotten worse realizing that his design is based off of SMG4’s, so obviously Mikel has taken that and ran with it.

We’ve talked about these two interacting for awhile actually. It’s kinda funny. Like… Timothy couldn’t care less about literally anything related to the internet. He doesn’t understand any of that. Dude wasn’t even born on Earth, and then when his father forced him to come to Earth he kept him locked away in an underground lab and experimented on him to give him technokenesis (he can control technology).

Timothy also despises the idea of perfection because that’s what his father was trying to achieve through the experiments he subjected him and his two older brothers to. Sadly, his brothers didn’t quite survive the experiments like Timothy did.

Needless to say, sorry Mik, but I doubt they’d ACTUALLY get along.

Also: (again because Mikel asked) SMG3 meeting Theo Henry, Timothy’s boyfriend who he is insanely attached to. Got another drawing of Theo coming up that Mikel requested (I posted a WIP of it earlier), so… I’ll explain him more in that post.

[leroiestmortvivelareine]

Strap in if you dare, I’m going to talk about Riko.

Yes, he is a Bad Person. Nothing I’m about to say counters that. However… evil isn’t always so obvious as to dress in black and torture everyone you love. Evil is insidious and nuanced - it can creep in when you aren’t expecting it and have no defences. We’ve been given this incredibly complex and interesting example of it, and we’ve been given it for a reason. Riko is a character worth trying to understand.

Could Riko ever have been saved, and if so what would it have taken? What if he’d been able to follow the Fox path to redemption instead of the Ravens to perdition?

Except both Foxes AND Ravens were traumatised… the thing that ruined Riko was power. Lincoln said it: “nearly all men can stand adversity but if you want to test a man’s character, give him power.” Who was Riko without power? It’s hard to see.

So I’m fascinated by a different question - how did Riko see Riko?

We know how the Foxes saw him: a low-functioning sociopath with zero coping skills and the personality of a cat trapped in a wall cavity. Presumably that’s not how he saw himself. What kind of headcannon did he construct for himself, what was his own personal mythology?

We know he wanted his father’s approval, he wanted to be number one. We know how badly he dealt with those desires being thwarted.

I know how it feels to be an abandoned child. You feel like the outer edges of a person, with this gaping hole in the centre. It’s not just that you lost a loved one, it’s - how can I say it - it’s like the clasp that lets you hold on to people has been torn out too. Everyone will leave now, and you know it.

(I didn’t cope by turning my bedroom into Abu Ghraib, though.)

It’s the worst of both worlds. His father is far enough away to cause that gaping wound, yet not sufficiently gone for it to ever close over and heal.

But… despite his impossible situation, Riko wasn’t withdrawing into himself. Resentment ate away at him and he liked doing side-projects of revenge, but it was hope driving him on. I see Riko as someone with a very hot flame in them, someone determined to succeed (like Neil). He was driven, even if the goal he chased so eagerly was an illusion. I think he saw his situation as a challenge, an opportunity to prove himself and eventually take his rightful place at his father’s side (surely that’s what Kengo really meant, surely this was a test, a test he can pass if he just wins one more time...)

Imagine something like… the second son of a Roman emperor, sent to some far-off outpost to get him out of the way subdue rebel tribes. A chance to make a name for himself, an opportunity to create an elite unit where violence and skill are everything, where winning is everything. A challenge he accepts with savage excitement.

And the world views them with the kind of awe once reserved for ancient Sparta. Unsurpassed warriors, impossibly focussed. Yes, they endure conditions no one else could even consider but they always win, and everyone loves winners. They are the legends of legends. Surely his father will see.

Kevin was his Lancelot, his shining sword, his right hand. Kevin added to Riko’s status, assured him he must be a hero if he had such a splendid champion at his side.

But Kevin is beautiful, so perhaps Riko’s feelings were more complicated than that, perhaps they were feelings he couldn’t admit he had. He could still work those feelings into the overall picture though… it’s all part of Kevin being his beloved champion.

Until the champion started edging him out of his own story and had to be sacrificed. A necessary sacrifice, but losing Kevin struck a huge blow to the mythology Riko built up about himself. He could no longer look in the mirror, side by side, and see Kevin’s glory (and, yes, Kevin’s dad) reflected back as though it belonged to him too.

Despite this Riko finds a way to keep winning, even without his champion. Surely that is even more impressive? Can his father see that?

Still no response. In the story Riko constructs for himself his father does no wrong, so this towering rage he feels has to crash down on someone else. He tells himself he is punishing his troops for daring to be unworthy.

Then there is Jean, someone from a caste so low as to be unclean, even subnormal, someone it would hurt Riko’s prestige to treat with any kind of respect. But Jean is also beautiful, and those feelings can’t be worked into the myth. Their outlet is the darkness behind closed doors, along with all the other feelings that don’t fit the story of the hero.

Harming his people, his intimate possessions, was Riko’s coping mechanism for rejection and humiliation the way self-harm in many forms is to many others. (Are you hearing me if I say hurting yourself is hurting your own Perfect Court, and there is collateral damage even if you think it’s just you, because people love you and suffer because of it? Are you hearing me if I say stop being Riko to yourself?)

And maybe his enjoyment of that cruelty was, deep down, a form of denial that the cruelty arose from anguish. ‘No I’m not upset, I’m not a loser, I’m in control, I’m doing this because I like it…’ Maybe even to the point where rendition becomes sexual.

But it’s starting to unravel. He’s lost his only friend and can no longer unleash his mounting frustrations on Jean the way he wants to; he’s running out of pieces for his board.

Then he finds the fugitive his family were chasing for so long. This is his big chance. He’ll have a brand new champion for his stable or a valuable offering to please his father, he wins either way.

He captures this feral child who tells him there is no empty throne waiting by the side of the emperor, Kengo never mentions his son’s name, Riko is nothing more than a joke in that far-off capital. So much scorn in those words that the carefully constructed mythology withers before it.

First the would-be rook took the queen, then the wild-card knight escapes again, and now the whipping boy / concubine / bishop is taken by a girl with a cross around her neck. The king has lost all his men… because that’s your REAL story, isn’t it: everyone leaves you.

And then… Kengo dies.

Yes, Riko is a Bad Person. No, I do not like him. But Nora gave us two boys who met their brother for the first time, two boys who cried out their brother’s name only to see their hopes shattered. And in that moment they were one, so I cannot dismiss this monstrous, horrible abomination no matter how hard I try.

I can however dismiss anyone who says Nora is not a goddess of writing.

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom.

A Love of Music

I have always enjoyed music and I wish I was good at playing an instrument. To sit down at the piano and effortlessly play one of my favourite songs for example. It always blew my mind when I saw people do just that in public spots. 

A few days before I enlisted, I was picking up my current girlfriend at St Pancras. She’d been at her parents in Kent over Christmas. We’d arranged to meet by the large Christmas tree. There was a piano there too. Free to use for anyone who wanted to show off their skills or entertain the travellers.

A teenage girl took a seat and started to play Auld Lang Syne. It was beautiful and much to my chagrin, I had to wipe away a tear.

***

Classical music was a genre I had an ambivalent relationship with. I guess I found it too pompous in my youth, but as I got older, some pieces stuck with me, and I quite enjoyed The New Year Concert from Vienna. 

It varied which instrument I was fascinated by. The harp, with its grandeur and elegant form, had always intrigued me. I also enjoyed the oboe. The sound of it felt both soothing and melancholy. But in the end, it was the violin I loved the most. How a skilled violinist could coax out all kinds of sounds from the beautiful instrument never failed to stun me. 

***

And then I experienced that even talented violinists could play so terrible that it hurt the ears and caused shudders to ripple through the entire body.

Yes, I’m referring to my mad flatmate and boyfriend, Sherlock Holmes. When we first met, and he told me he played the violin, I thought he was an amateur. Imagine my surprise and awe when I realised that he was just as skilled as any violinist in a symphony orchestra. At least in my opinion.

“You’re biased, John,” Sherlock told me.

I guess I was, but he was bloody good, and I thoroughly enjoyed it when he played for me. Therefore, I was totally unprepared for the change in tone when Mycroft visited. I had had my encounter with the pompous arse in a parking cellar somewhere months prior, but this was the first time I witnessed a meeting between the brothers.

A screeching sound from Sherlock’s violin made me cover my ears and yell from the kitchen: “what the hell, Sherlock!”

He stopped for a brief second to tell me his brother was tormenting him. Then he started molesting his instrument again. It was unbearable. I think my ears would’ve started to bleed if I hadn’t been able to pry the bow out of his hand. He plucked the strings for a while, before he sprawled on the sofa, clutching the violin to his chest.

***

The tone and the pieces he played when I had nightmares, were soft and gentle, luring me back to the flat and out of the desert. My heart swelled with love for him in those moments. Sometimes I stood from the bed and went to thank him with an embrace or a kiss. Other times, I was too fatigued to do anything but just lay there and thank him in my mind. The nightmares got less straining after I started sharing his bed, but he still played for me.

***

Sherlock’s own tone when Mrs. Hudson asked him to play Christmas carols, was clipped and haughty, but when he started playing – well, it was magical. He transformed from that aloof man everybody thought to be a sociopath, and into a passionate musician. I could even discern a tiny curl of his lip, indicating a smile on those occasions. After all, he’d do anything for his beloved Hudders, however reluctant he seemed.

***

His sorrow filled the small church when he played at his father’s funeral. I had never seen a face so despairing. Tears trickled down his cheeks in a constant stream, but he never faltered. Not until he lowered his bow after he’d finished playing. I was by his side before he’s knees gave way, and he stayed close to me for the rest of the day.

***

After we moved to Sussex, Sherlock still practised and played the violin, but it took a bit more effort as the years passed. His fingers weren’t that flexible anymore, especially during winter. So, we changed our habits. Every so often we took the train up to London, or Mycroft provided a car, and we went to see the London Symphony Orchestra. If there was a serene violin solo, Sherlock tapped at my arm in step with the soloist. 

***

It wasn't our shared love of music that brought us together, but it was an important part of the foundation of our relationship. And when the crime solving and the hunt for suspects through London ended, the music became an even bigger part of our lives. The tones changed and differed, but our love remained solid and steadfast.

-------------------------------------------------------------

@flashfictionfridayofficial @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @calaisreno @helloliriels

@raina-at @meetinginsamarra @safedistancefrombeingsmart @gregorovitch-adler @topsyturvy-turtely

@jolieblack @peanitbear @phoenix27884 @bs2sjh @brandiwein1982

@meandhisjohn @a-victorian-girl @221beloved @ninasnakie @shy-bi-letsfuckingdie

@7-percent @lhrinchelsea @missdeliadilisblog @salmonsown @oetkb12

@jawnscoffee @gay-ass-bitch @acumberlockedgirl @williamholmeswatson @whatnext2020

@mydogwatson @redmondcollege

(Tell me if you want to get tagged or removed from the list)

[odoroussavourssweet]

Perfumes for Vorkosigan Saga Characters

There are enough offhand references to fragrance in the Vorkosigan books that I strongly suspect Lois McMaster Bujold of being a perfume enthusiast. Also it's fun to imagine what the characters would wear.

Aral and Miles Vorkosigan

Miles is sometimes noted to wear a traditional masculine cologne, and he strikes me as the sort to wear the same thing his father does, as a sort of default grooming routine. You don't get much more traditional and correct than Chanel Monsieur, a mossy, bone-dry cologne/chypre hybrid.

Cordelia Vorkosigan

As the author-insert character, I think Cordelia enjoys perfume and knows exactly what she wants. I picture her in my beloved vintage Rochas Mystere, an earthy, outdoorsy, yet elegant chypre, with lots of brisk cypress and a rusty warm carnation heart to match her auburn hair.

Alys Vorpatril

Alys is a lady of a certain age with excellent taste, and therefore appreciates the formal, embellished perfection of Divine, a classical aldehydic floral weighted towards tuberose.

Ivan Vorpatril

Ivan has no taste of his own; once he got old enough to try dousing himself in body spray as a teen, his mother bought him a bottle of Divine L'Etre Aime Homme, a classically French masculine with a warm, smoky immortelle note, which sets off his darkly athletic good looks.

Elena Bothari-Jesek

Elena, I think, came to perfume later in life, finding a balm in a private feminine pleasure that wasn't part of her rigidly militaristic youth. She'd appreciate something delicate and poignant, like YSL Paris, a rose-violet powder-puff scent.

Bel Thorne

Bel was once mentioned wearing "floral perfume" to emphasize its feminine side. The adventurous Betan mercenary strikes me as a tuberose fan, and I imagine it wearing something like Frederic Malle Carnal Flower -- bold, sleek, streamlined, stylish but not too obscure. (Bel is, at heart, a bit of a normie.)

Elli Quinn

Space-station-born Elli is used to being in confined spaces with strangers, so she never wears perfume -- she even insists on unscented soaps. But she might have picked up a bottle of Etat Libre d'Orange Secretions Magnifiques as a vile practical joke (it smells, very realistically, like vomit.)

Taura

Taura's genetic enhancements gave her an exceptional sense of smell, and her lust for life and enthusiastic experiments in feminine presentation suggest she would absolutely try out perfume, but she's not analytical enough to get super into it. Somebody gives her Narciso Rodriguez For Her, a basic sweet floral musk, and she sticks with that.

Cavilo

The sociopathic mercenary Cavilo is described as wearing a very sharp green floral perfume that gives Miles allergies. I imagine this as Tom Ford Vert Boheme, a clean, contemporary take on the classic 1970s green florals, which smells exactly like a crisp green leaf before opening out into a ladylike magnolia.

Pel Navarr

The Cetagandans are perfume-lovers, so the aristocratic haut Pel would certainly wear perfume. Given her restrained, elevated tastes, I picture her in Parfums MDCI Le Cri De La Lumiere, a barely-there, sparkling-white iris-rose concoction of surpassing purity.

Lilly Durona

I have a soft spot for the Durona Group -- rogue ancap bioengineering clone family of my heart. In her artificially extended lifespan, the matriarch Lilly must have tried her hand at perfuming at some point, and probably invented a few new aromachemicals of her own. All the Durona women have flower names, and I imagine Lilly wears her namesake via something similar to Serge Lutens Un Lys, the most realistic, narcotic, honey-dripping lily scent ever.

Mark Vorkosigan

We know Mark's visual aesthetic tends towards the dark and gloomy, his gustatory tastes run towards the sweet and indulgent, and his erotic tastes are, um, both. There's only one right answer here and it's Bvlgari Black: fetishy black rubber up top, birthday-cake sweet vanilla below.

Enrique Borgos

Enrique is a nerd, and in his own way an aesthetic soul. I guarantee you he is interested in perfume, and he'd gravitate to the perfumer's perfumer, the chemist Christophe Laudamiel. He would be fascinated by the strange "neon-hologram" effect in The Zoo Spacewood.

Kareen Koudelka

Kareen's adventurous nature probably took her to try some perfumes on Beta Colony, and she'd invariably gravitate to warm, cozy ambers and gourmands. I can see her in the unpretentious burnt-caramel smell of Kerosene Broken Theories.

Ekaterin Vorsoisson

The reserved, introverted Ekaterin has "unerring taste". Which means, in an olfactory context, she's probably figured out that Liz Moores is one of the best living perfumers. I have Ekaterin pegged for an iris lover, so she wears Papillon Angelique, a delicate, rustic spring iris with subtle, velvety layers of texture.