#nor do I resent them for “having to” make the effort

[katsy-kitty]

the thing about me is that I'm not a chill person (extr anxious) but I am (generally) a nice person

and so e.g. I just made a CALENDAR REMINDER to remember to respond to a mutual's post because I don't have the time now

[hagfishviperfish]

eieudururururuffggh… it’s definitely along the lines of limerence. u think its fine when ur sitting together, it’s actualized that this is someone you could never be together with, and really he’s not all that glittering attractive in terms of someone you would want to be in a relationship with anyway. but then there’s the twofold dream of living with him, then wandering around a city aimless with the thought resounding “i love you so much please text me back”

i think it’s a sign of needing to reconcile something in myself but i don’t know what. i am left with these feelings that i do not know how to deal with. i desire him so much but he is not present. he never will be. it’s just how he is. i don’t know why he’s worth it in terms of my brain/heart. as i said, there are so many things about him that are extremely unattractive in terms of a relationship. This is a consequence of coming back into his life, but really this was happening anyway, in the past two years. it was so nice to just sit with him and not want for more, except i feel bad drawing him to speak to me but that’s fine

i don’t trust him with anything in the world, i feel that i don’t really know who he is, if he’s even a real person — but also that it’s so simple and he’s much more simple than i think. except it’s just that i don’t know. i can only assume and assume and theorize because he’s never around. i don’t know why i wish to know him specifically. Maybe it’s an ego thing. Maybe it’s an issue.

I had a dream that i think was a sequel to an existing dream but i dont know. It was like. I was adopted by the queen and king of england, they looked over me and raised me for a bit. And eventually i had to go back home to my mother. This dream was the sequel where I come back to see them again and see how every influence I had on their castle and lives and everything was stripped away and muttered about as ill-fashion�� “oh, that old thing.” whereas i looked up to them so much, i was devoted and dedicated so much to them. they taught me how to dance, i taught the king jokes, things like so.

upon seeing all the ways i meant nothing to them I proceeded to have a breakdown in the dream, taking it out on them, everyone around me, tearing things down, playing into the ill worth they regarded me with by giving them something to be actually disgusted by.

My ex was there— he was there because he heard it was me, on the news, in the rumors, and came to witness. he was talking to people about me, telling them who i was and who he was, *defending* me. Which was crazy. So fond. but when i really think about it I think he was there because ultimately being the child of the queen of england and then coming back to see i meant nothing felt like what it was like to be in a relationship with him.

Why i am drawn to people i mean nothing to. I dont know. why their validation in my worth means so much. i dont know. why i see my worth through others. i dont know. this is what i need to reconcile in myself but. i don’t know. How. I even feel like its fine most of the time, but then i look up to someone and it all comes back.

I just wish he cared about me enough to come by. But he doesnt and i need to find someone who does. Thats the path i’m trying to take. It’s just sorrowful. What also overtakes me sometimes is that when he’s not there, he claims to be thinking of me. Stalking my twitter. Watching what i’m doing wherever. Songs that make him think about me. Which kind of makes it worse. All of that and it’s still not enough to draw him near. He was right in saying I am someone that needs someone to be there for me and it was hardly a kindness that he let go of me when saying that, especially considering the circumstances, but at least he could admit he was not that person. it’s this wish i have that i need to reconcile. the fact that it exists at all. I wish it could go away, I’ve been trying to make it go away, forcing it to by looking at all the facts and realities, but yet its still here, I don’t know how to change, I need to be strong

[y-elleven]

i dont think sae would ever fall out of love with you once he gets serious. neither time nor routine could ever dull his affections, because loving you meant clawing his own chest open to get to the battered and vulnerable heart he'd kept hidden behind walls of sea-rotted boards for years. he fought for that softness, for the ease and surety of having a love that's returned, brittle edges and all. there's no way in hell his heart would ever stop bleeding with want and pure affection for you. that's just not how he's built

to begin, being in a relationship with him isn't easy. he knows this. he's made you cry enough times in the beginning to carve a resolve to never make you cry ever again for the rest of your lives together now. sae will always be grateful for your patience and persistence, for not giving up on the two of you (on him) when he already had so many times. for all his effortless cool and nonchalance, he's a messy adult with even messier feelings and a tongue sharp enough to keep almost everyone right where he wants them: at arm's length. his words cut like burred steel and the hurt that comes with them always fade into scars people resent him for, but the fact that you still persevered and met him where he stood, even when he refused to meet you halfway, means so much to him. he'd never be able to put into words even if he tried, so he shows it by doing his best to be a better man for you every day instead

he loves your routine. loves the life the two of you have begun building together. loves the simple reassurance of being able to kiss you goodbye in the morning and kiss you hello in the evening. loves the press of your body against when he goes to sleep and the warmth of breath against his collarbone when he wakes up. loves brushing his teeth next to you and running his fingers through your bedhead to try and tame it. loves having you sit with him in the kitchen while he fixes a quick snack for both of you. loves when you're chatty. loves when you're quiet. loves you when you're sweet on him. loves you when you're pissed to hell. loves when you're all cleaned up and gorgeous, dressed like you're his to show off and adore. loves when you've got sauce stains on your shirt and dressed for a night-in of crappy reality tv and gossip where you talk and he just listens

he loves that simple life. even when you stress him out with your antics sometimes and your own messy feelings make you listen to your insecurities instead of him, he wouldn't trade it for the world. not when you've looked at him and all his mess and decided he was still worth the effort. you've met him where he refused to budge so many times, so he has no problem pushing against his own anxieties and fears to find you when you get too lost in your own head

he's come so far from who he was in the beginning of your relationship and he's proud of that. sae's still a little difficult sometimes, especially when it comes to your health and comfort (two things he refuses to compromise on; he wants a future with you and won't let anything, not even your self-destructive habits, get in the way of that), but he doesn't hide from you anymore. when you've seen the worst of him and still offered the best you could in return, how can he ever do anything but love you forever?

[zyafics]

FULL THROTTLE (EXCERPT)

my submission to my lil' campaign, make rafe great again, if anyone wants to join! this is for a longer fic for biker!maybank!reader that i have yet to finish, but i love her attitude, so i fear i must share it <3

content: angst angst angst, tensionnnnn

Rafe’s trying to reach you.

He knows you’re back on the island, and for the past few days, you’ve been letting his calls go to voicemails and his texts on delivered. At this point, you should block him, but for some reason, you don’t. You tell yourself it’s because Rafe isn’t the extra effort, but you know, deep down, it’s because you don’t want to.

It’s an aggravating line to dance on.

Rafe hurt JJ. While they’ve previously had squabbles, this time, it’s different. Before, you weren’t sleeping with Rafe, weren’t spending time with him, and you didn’t care for him. Now, inexplicably, it feels like a complete betrayal of your trust.

You hate it.

Trying to keep your mind off the Kook, you wipe down the tables from the previous customers with complete vigor. It’s a slow day at the diner, and most customers have been attending to corner booths that are not in your jurisdiction. Perfect. This brevity of waitressing allows you to stew in your emotions with little interruption.

The bell chimes, and since you’re the closest to the door, you lift your head to welcome the customer. However, it came to be some sick cosmic joke because the one person you don’t want to see steps through the door.

Rafe’s holding a bouquet of flowers—your favorite, actually—and his eyes sweep across the small bistro. When his gaze catches yours, Rafe offers one of his charming smiles, taking a leisurely stroll to reach you.

“Hey,” Rafe greets. Upon arrival, you notice he has his own battle scars—spreads of yellow-and-blue bruising covering his cheekbones and jaw, a testimony to your brother’s blows.

Half of you is proud of JJ for managing to procure such vicious swings, but the other half—quieter, more empathetic—is concerned over Rafe’s injuries. A juxtaposition of emotions, you blame Rafe for putting you in this position. You blame him for letting it get this far.

Because it’s easier than admitting the truth.

“Do you need something?”

He raises a brow, not recognizing your indifference as resentment. “What’s up your ass? Bad tips?”

You shrug, not answering.

“I got a few ideas to cheer you up,” Rafe offers with a cocky grin, trailing down the length of your body in a suggestive manner. On any other day, you would reciprocate his flirt with a tease of your own—bantering and sharing sharp-witted comments as forms of foreplay. But today, you just want him out.

“No thanks,” you answer blankly, turning back to your cleaning.

Rafe bristles at your curtness, but he dismisses it as professionalism for your workplace. He understands that. Honestly, he shouldn’t be here in the first place but it’s been days since you returned to Kildare, and you haven’t returned any of his messages and as much as he refuses to admit it—he misses you.

He holds out the flowers. “I got you these.”

You don’t turn around to acknowledge them. “For what?”

“Heard you won some big competition in Charlotte; thought you might like a congratulations.”

You falter, slightly, slowing your sweeping circles. You almost turn around, to take a better look at the flowers, knowing they’re expensive, fresh, and exuding a pretty scent—but you stand your ground.

“I don’t like those flowers.”

Rafe’s taken aback by the comment. He was certain he remembered the right ones. “I’ll get you new ones.”

“I won’t like those either.”

He blinks, trying to figure out if you’re messing with him, as some sort of cat-and-mouse game. But with your back remaining, and your attention reduced to a clean spot that’s spotless, he realizes it’s something entirely different.

You’re distant. Cold. You refused to meet his gaze, nor spare an inch of your time, and Rafe is reminiscent of another period where you did the same thing.

“You’re mad,” Rafe concludes, lowering the flowers to this side, holding them by the plastic wrapping. You spritz another round of disinfectant on the already-cleaned surface. “I did something.”

Saying nothing, you head to the next set of tables, but Rafe matches your steps. Now recognizing your detachment, he’s also picking up the irritation radiating from your demeanor.

“Maybank,” he calls.

“Is that all you came here for?” You finally turn around, but Rafe doesn’t feel any gratification. Your eyes are sharp, your expression unreadable. “Because I need to get back to work.”

“I…” Rafe doesn’t even have the capacity to speak. All he can do is stare, taking in your indifference, and a curling sense of agitation is employed in his stomach. He hates being pushed into a corner.

“If you’re not ordering anything, I’m going to ask you to leave,” you point to the door. With no argument, Rafe hesitates before dropping your flowers on one of the tables and exits the establishment.

You pick up the bouquet and drop it to the nearest waste bin.

Afterwards, you finish the rest of your shift. It was difficult seeing Rafe in your place of work, but it’s over. When the diner comes to a close, and you’re locking up, you step out to discover Rafe waiting beside his motorcycle.

You forgot how stubborn he can be.

He pushes himself off the vehicle as you attempt to circumvent him, stepping between two cars parked beside each other.

“We need to talk,” Rafe declares.

“I thought we already did,” you say apathetically. Before you go far, he pins you against one of the cars, arms on either side of your head, and his hardened gaze settles on you. You settle your eyes on his, tilting your head to the side, giving him that slow, irritating sense of detachment. “Throwing a tantrum?”

“You know that’s not the problem,” he grits out.

“I don’t see a problem at all.”

“We need to talk,” he repeats, irritation spiked his tone at your dismissiveness.

“You can talk; I’m not listening.” You attempt to duck under his arm, but Rafe moves it, quickly containing you. With a sigh, you lean back against the cool car door, crossing your arms over your chest. “What?”

His dark blue eyes study you. “You’re pissed,”

“I’m perfectly fine,”

“And you’re a terrible liar,”

“And you know me well enough to say that?”

“I know you pretty well, Maybank,” he declares, his words slow, drawing out the tension. All he needs to do is push your buttons to snap. His lips curl with a smirk. “At least, physically.”

Your jaw locks, but you refuse to let him rile you. “Charming, Cameron. Perhaps you should use it on girls who give a damn.”

As much as your relationship is undefined, the thought of Rafe with another woman stirs an ugly emotion inside of you. But you refuse to let it be shown.

He scoffs at your deflection. “Maybe I should,”

You roll your eyes, wanting nothing more than to appear like you don’t care. Especially if he’s talking about fucking other women. Both of your hands plant against his chest, giving a hard shove, but he barely moves an inch. You forget how strong Rafe is, how he doesn’t move unless he allows himself to be.

“Let me go,”

“Not until you talk.” He insists.

“About what?”

Rafe lowers his head to your level, closing the distance until he’s right in front of your face. Your breath hitches, heart stuttering. His eyes scan through your hardened features, loosening by his closeness, and he asks lowly. “What did I do?”

His unyielding attempt unnerves you. “You’re well aware of what you did.”

“So I did do something,” he deduces.

You don’t answer, shimmering in your renowned anger, and you break contact to look elsewhere, studying the flickering fluorescent sign of the diner. You trace the curve, and Rafe’s jaw ticks at your lack of attention. He grabs your chin, forcing your gaze back on him.

“Talk to me.”

“Let me go,”

“No,”

“Asshole,” you scowl, and Rafe grins.

“There she is.”

“You’re fucking irritating, you know that?” You shove him again, and while he takes a step back, he still cages you in. Anger fuses through your veins at your inability to change it.

“Because you’re being vague and distant,” he snaps. “If I fucked up, tell me. Stop giving me this prissy act like you’re too good for me.”

“Maybe I am,” you challenge with a skyward tilt of your chin, matching his hard stare. “Maybe this was all I needed to remind myself I should do better than fuck a Kook.”

His eyes narrows. “Shut the fuck up,”

“You shut the fuck up,” you hiss.

He slams his fist against the car, the loud thump booms beside your ear, but you remain unflinching. “Tell me what I did wrong!”

“You punched JJ!”

Rafe whips back. It takes a second for him to process, studying your face to recognize this was some random excuse. It’s the truth. “That’s what this is about?” He questions quietly.

“Of course it is,” you huff. “He’s my brother.”

He scoffs, looking elsewhere. He can’t believe you’re becoming reclusive and defensive without talking to him first. “Did he tell you what happened?”

“I didn’t need details. You punched him,”

“And he punched me,” Rafe retorts, showing his profile. “What do you make of that?”

It looks uglier on close proximity, the magnifying damage heightens. But you can’t seem to conceal the bitterness from your tongue. “He should’ve hit you harder.”

“You’re a hypocrite,”

“I’m loyal,” you correct. “I thought you would respect me enough to not stir trouble, but I’m guessing your pride can never be replaced with some considerations for a fuck buddy.”

“It’s different,” he declares. “He was the one who snuck into Midsummer. We got into an argument. We fought. It’s a guy thing—stop making it a big deal.”

You huff at his pathetic argument. “That’s your excuse? It’s a guy thing?”

Rafe’s getting agitated by your lack of comprehension, your refusal to accept it at face value. But he doesn’t want to disclose the full story. “What do you want me to say? You want me to apologize?”

“Are you even capable of such a thing?”

He exhales through his nose. “You know what your problem is?” He says lowly. “You’re using this as some pathetic excuse to break it off because you’re afraid.”

“I’m afraid?” You repeat, but your throat goes dry.

“Yeah,” Rafe nods. “You’re a coward.”

“Have you ever considered that I have more loyalty to my blood than who I fuck?” You snap, pushing at his chest. “That Kooks may not think the same way, but for me, for Pogues, it’s different? If you hurt my family, you’re done.”

“So that’s it?” Rafe challenges. “I mean nothing? What does it mean for you when he hurts me?”

Eyes slowly sweeping over his scars, unwanted emotions bubble inside you regarding his injuries. But you steel your expression. “What about it?”

Rafe scoffs at your coldness. “You’re such a bitch.”

“And you’re an asshole, we’re done,” you shove him off the last time, and this time, he lets it pass. Staggering back two steps, you use the opportunity to escape, fastening your steps until you’re out of the parking lot.

Rafe’s left at the side of the diner, fuming. He watches your silhouette grow smaller and smaller in the distance, and decidedly, he wants to do one last thing.

“Should’ve known better than to fuck a Pogue!” Rafe yells after you, full of rage, hurt, and insecurity. He needed something to cut you as deep as you done him. But you don’t respond, don’t entertain an answer, and uncross your arms just enough to raise your middle finger.

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Character Analysis – Edmund Bertram

I have a better opinion of Edmund Bertram than much of the Jane Austen fandom has, and I am going to try to explain why. It comes down to several things:

1) He probably makes more sacrifices for people other than a woman he is in love with than any other Jane Austen hero.

He has to sacrifice a great deal of the economic condition he would normally expect in order to enable Tom’s debts to be paid, and Tom doesn’t even care about this or feel guilty for it. At no point does Edmund show hostility to or resentment of his brother over this, nor does he ever bring it up to Tom to guilt him, not even when Tom is doing something Edmund considers immoral and disrespectful to their father; Edmund makes his arguments against the play on the merits, as best he can. Nor does he bring it up to Tom when the (relative to expectations) small income he can expect is one of the principal barriers to him marrying the woman he loves.

He goes out of his way to be kind to Fanny from the start (seriously, how few 16-year-old boys would take the time to listen and be kind to and help a ten-year-old girl? Most 16-year-old boys are dreadful, from my experience of high school.)

He sells one of his horses to buy one that Fanny can ride, when riding is recommended for her health. This is no small thing, given how frequently-used horses were in that time. This isn’t like, say, selling one of your three cars; it’s more like choosing to give up either your computer, tablet, or cell phone, and never (or, well, for many years) have a replacement again. Lending the horse to Mary Crawford for a couple days is a fault, but to me a fairly minor fault in light of this.

He is determined that he will live in his parsonage rather than – as would be done by many members of the clergy in that day – live at Mansfield Park and ride over once a week to preach. It is important to him that he do his job well and live among the people he is ministering to, and he is not tempted to try to modify his parsonage into a much fancier house when Henry Crawford tries to talk him into it. Nor is he willing to pursue a career that Mary Crawford would be more favourable to. He genuinely cares about his vocation as a pastor, and is willing to make sacrifices both of love and of comfort in order to do so. I don’t generally have a high opinion of the 19th-century Anglican clergy, Edmund is genuinely dedicated.

He tends to Tom gently and fairly continuously when Tom is sick, despite Edmund having plenty of worries of his own. The book says, “when able to talk, or be talked to, Edmund was the companion he preferred.” Edmund put off a proposal to the woman he loves in order to tend to Tom – and that tending is a duty that would, I think, usually have been considered as one for the women of the family. It really highlights how Edmund is the only Bertram with real feeling and care for his family members.

In light of this, I think that some of the things readers heavily criticize him for, like losing track of time one afternoon when he’s on an outing with his girlfriend, are comparatively minor and forgiveable. Edmund seems to me to put more concerted effort into doing the right thing than most other men in Jane Austen.

2) His ability to act is constrained relative to most other Austen heroes by the fact that he is a younger son, living at home, with two parents and an aunt still living. He does not have the authority to spend Sir Thomas’ money, and filial duty means he cannot outright denigrate Mrs. Norris to Fanny. The only other Jane Austen heroes who do not have their independence are Edward Ferrars and Henry Tilney (and both of them have rather different relationships with their family).

This means anything he does for Fanny, he has to do at his own expense – as when he sells one of his horses to buy one for her; as when he offers to stay with his mother while the others go to Sotherton so that Fanny can go. It’s the most effective way he has of addressing the way they treat her: oh, so you think it’s okay if this happens to Fanny? Well then, it’s happening to me instead. In the case of the Sotherton expedition, it quickly flips people to seeing that as unacceptable, making them bother to find another (fairly simple) solution that they hasn’t cared about finding before.

In a few ways, Edmund is placed in a more feminine role in the story than any other male leads: his principal good qualities are a strong moral sense and the provision of emotional support and care; he’s the bedrock of his family in the same way that Elinor Dashwood is for hers; he’s held back from the person he loves by economic precarity; and he seems to have a limited social circle outside his family (the drinking-and-gambling habits common in young male society among students of his class and time likely didn’t suit him).

In short, Henry Crawford does not care for and value Fanny Price more (or nearly as much) as Edmund does; his financial and familial position simply make it easy for him to do things, at insignificant cost to himself, that Edmund cannot do without behaving in a way that would, in his time, be deeply disrespectful to his parents and aunt. Edmund knows Fanny far better, understands her far better, and when he gives her gifts (like the necklace) it’s ones she likes and appreciates.

3) I don’t blame Edmund for being in love with Mary Crawford for much of the book because, frankly, she’s an appealing person, especially given Edmund’s narrow social circle. The combination of wit, liveliness, comsistent good humour, interesting conversation, and beauty (plus harp-playing) that she beings are not something the Bertrams encounter every day. He wants to think better of her than she is because her other characteristics are so appealing. I think that’s a very human reaction when in love. (Elizabeth Bennet falls for Wickham and makes excuses for him based on little more than good manners, good looks, flattery, and a mutual dislike of Darcy, and people don’t criticize her nearly as much.)

By the same token, I don’t blame him for being oblivious to Fanny’s love for him because absolutely everyone is and Fanny is very deliberately and determinedly concealing it. And given that, liking to spend somewhat more time with your girlfriend than your bestie is also, I think, quite forgivable in a young person.

4) On one area of frequent critique, that Edmund doesn’t listen to Fanny on several notable occasions (mainly about the Crawfords), I think their dynamic over several years is an important consideration. It’s somewhat a flipped version of Emma in that you’ve got a mentor-mentee relationship between the leads, but in this case it’s the mentor who is mistaken and the mentee who is right. Edmund has been supporting and advising and encouraging Fanny for many years, and many of those times he was right. For example, she was afraid of learning to ride when she first started with a pony, and Edmund encouraged her and comvinced her to do it, and she came to love it.

“Ah! cousin, when I remember how much I used to dread riding, what terrors it gave me to hear it talked of as likely to do me good; – (Oh! how I have trembled at my uncle’s opening his lips if horses were talked of) and then think of the kind pains you took to reason and persuade me out of my fears, and comvince me that I should like it after a littl while, and feel how right you proved to be, I am inclined to hope you may always prophesy as well.”

Fanny also, in another conversation, describes herself to Edmund as “foolish and awkward” and he insists “you have not a shadow of either, but in using the words so improperly.” The narrative is clear about how consistent and important his care, sympathy, praise, and advoacy have been for her, for many years:

Edmund’s friendship never failed her: his leaving Eton for Oxford made no change in is kind dispositions, and only afforded more frequent opportunities of providing them. Without any display of doing more than the rest, or any fear of doing too much, he was always true to herinterests,and considerate of her feelings, trying to make her good qualities understood, and to conquer the diffidence which prevented their being more apparent; giving her advice, consolation, and encouragement.

Kept back as she was by every body else, his single support could not bring her forward, but his attentions were otherwise of the highest importance in assisting the improvement of her mind, and extending its pleasures. He knew her to have a quick apprehension as well as good sense, and a fondness for reading, which, properly directed, must be an education in itself…he recommended the books which charmed her leisure hours, he encouraged her taste, and corrected her judgement; he made reading useful by talking to her of what she read, and heightened its attraction by judicious praise.

The nature of this relationship also helps explain some of Edmund’s reaction to Henry Crawford’s proposal: while Edmund is very much at fault for disregarding her doubts about Henry Crawford’s morality, he is very used to Fanny being nervous and anxious about things that, once she is used to the and no longer afraid of them or uncertain of her abilities, she enjoys. (Such as riding.) So he is seeing her reaction in part through that frame.

The basic difficulty in Mansfield Park that affects perceptions of Edmund is that it is occurring at a moment of transition: the first time Fanny has been eclipsed in Edmund’s life, combined with a transition from him being a mentor and guide to them becoming equals, and her in fact surpassing him in perception and being willing to go against even his opinion in her choice to reject Henry Crawford. It’s the story of Fanny growing up, whereas Edmund (the mentor) is put in the place of Emma (the mentee) in Emma, in being mistaken in key assessments of people, and biased into seeing what he wants to see. This reversal is what allows them to be on equal footing, and for Edmund’s benefit from Fanny’s companionship to be as apparent or more apparent, to everyone, as his from her.

However, this means that for most of the novel we’re seeing Edmund and Famny’s relationship at the weakest point it’s ever been, which can’t help but affect readers’ attitudes to him; and I do think it’s a flaw that we don’t get an actual conversation at the end between Edmund and Fanny that deals with his recognition of his errors in judgement and the value of her perception and principle.

[pupwashing]

older brother!jimmy x younger sister!reader

warnings: INCEST, NONCON, anal, unprotected sex, blood mention, cigarette burning on skin, lowercase intended

A/N: AT LAST I HAVE TIME TO POST :3 I really liked writing this even though it’s a drabble,, as always I love feedback! comments & rbs are appreciated!

jimmy’s a fucking weirdo.

being his younger sister, you’re the most qualified person to claim this as fact.

ever since you could remember, jimmy’s been the weird kid. the odd one out.

he doesn’t know care about doing things the right way or making people feel uncomfortable, including you.

he’s a terrible older brother, but you didn’t know he was going to get worse.

much, much worse.

jimmy stays in the basement; hasn’t made an effort to move out yet. probably never will.

you prefer him living down in the basement. means you don’t have to see him as much.

when the basement door opens, you think nothing of it. he’s probably coming up for food, like he usually does.

except, he makes a beeline for the living room, where you’re watching some trashy romcom. he hates your taste in films; fake bullshit that uses handsome faces to sell you a pipe dream.

maybe it’s jealousy, or maybe it’s pent up resentment. 

either way, it’s pissed him off, and he’s already having a bad day.

curly keeps trying to drag him everywhere under the sun.

he knows its out of pity, so he declines.

but curly is persistent.

that persistence just adds to his likability. something jimmy lacks, something he craves, deep down.

this anger jimmy feels, all his pent up rage leads him to make a drastic decision.

if he can’t take his frustrations out on the people that cause him, then he can surely use his younger sister as a punching bag.

you should’ve been more aware of your brother’s tendencies. should’ve known he’d snap sooner or later.

you just didn’t realize you’d be the victim when he did.

when you regain consciousness, you realize you aren’t in the living room anymore.

you’re in the basement, on a stained mattress.

attempting to move, you notice that your ankles and wrists are bound with zip-ties.

when you try to speak, you realize that there’s duct tape on your mouth.

you don’t have much time to ponder what’s happened before jimmy comes in.

his appearance is rough; a stained wifebeater and worn black boxers, with a unlit cigarette hanging from his lips.

he looks like shit, just like any other day.

he walks over to the mattress, not uttering a word as he flips you to lie on your stomach.

the cogs are beginning to turn in your head, and you don’t like where this is going.

he positions your body as if you were a mannequin; face down, ass up.

jimmy’s silent as he flicks his lighter on, lighting his cigarette.

he makes quick work of your shorts and panties, ignoring your whimpers of protest.

he kneads at your ass, letting the plump flesh fill his palms. 

he gropes you for a while before you feel it: a warm glob of spit on your asshole, trickling down to your pussy.

when it finally clicks what jimmy plans to do, it’s too late.

his cockhead nudges against your puckered entrance, forcing its way into your formerly virgin hole.

you scream, but the tape muffles it. jimmy doesn’t even flinch.

taking a drag of his cigarette, he exhales the smoke as he begins his thrusts.

he’s fucking you deep. feels like he’s messing with your organs.

jimmy presses a palm on the small of your back, forcing you to arch more as he violates you.

he doesn’t utter a word, nor does he grunt or groan. he just smokes his cigarette as he fucks you.

you don’t know how many hours it’s been, but you know he’s been through ten cigs. its easy to count, because he’s been putting them out on you.

your body aches, you feel like he’s ripped you in two, but he hasn’t stopped.

every snap of his hips has you talking to god, praying that he’d end your suffering, one way or another.

your prayers were interrupted by jimmy putting out his cigarette on your hip, rubbing this thumb over the fresh mark.

you don’t even scream this time. you’re too exhausted to even cry. you have no tears left.

jimmy gets up, the mattress creaking under the loss of his weight.

it’s finally over.

he leaves you on the bed in a crumpled heap, cum and blood creating a grotesque river as it slowly drips out of your abused hole.

but you know this isn’t the end of it.

he’s kept you tied up for a reason, he’s just taking a break.

you close your eyes, hoping that somehow, someway, you’ll get your dignity back, after jimmy stole it from you.

you fucking hate your older brother.

[byemambo]

Faifa Character Appreciation: Tough Love

I needed to take the time to make an appreciation post for Junior that's playing Faifa in Perfect 10 Liners. I'm sure that those who read the novel may have different opinions on how the source material is being translated on screen, but since I've only been watching the series, I'll just address my perspective from there.

In the beginning of the series airing, I was introduced to many new actors, as main roles or supporting roles. I knew ForceBook, Perth, AouBoom, and other actors such as Pepper, MarcPoon, JJ, etc. I haven't seen Junior or Mark in anything so they hadn't sparked much interest from me at the start. However, that's changed since the airing of episode 13.

We see the differences between the three brothers Newton, Yotha, and Faifa, roughly understanding that their mother and father split while Newton and Yotha grew up with their father and Faifa with their mother abroad until he was sent back to Thailand. Out of all the siblings, Yotha is the most resentful of their mother, which was illustrated in episode 13 when she visits them at their dorm. While watching the series, Faifa is described as this happy go lucky social butterfly who seems to migrate from group to group, connecting with many people with very little effort. He is someone who thrives off of taking care of others, we see this best with Wine and Gun (this scene with Wine is from episode 11).

However, his kindness also comes with a strong sense of justice if it stems from the defense of those he cares about, which becomes Gun after Yotha and Klao get hurt after leaving Newton's bar. I've seen lots of people tearing up Warich, Klao, Yotha, or all three in terms of their problematic behaviors, but that's not my focus nor do I condone how reckless they all become towards one another. I have a deeper appreciation for how Faifa has no hesitation in defending Gun against Yotha, who is truly the victim being caused the most harm from everything happening between those three individuals.

Faifa becomes the first person at Gun's aid and recognizing his state of shock, as we see the stark difference in Yotha's life and Gun's: the difference between someone who denied himself love vs. someone who basked in it. While Newton becomes indifferent to Yotha's behavior, I'm sure due to him also growing up in the same circumstances as Yotha, both of them have their own unstable relationship with emotional regulation and conflict resolution that becomes unhelpful and perpetuates the cycle of self sabotage and stagnation.

Although Faifa has a free spirit that's fairly lighthearted around Yotha, his more gloom and reserved counterpart, Faifa still has the confidence and strength to stand his ground against Yotha in multiple ways. Just because you're able to understand the features of someone's trauma and where their behaviors stem from, does not mean anyone should enable such behavior that creates a domino effect and harms the person they care about most, the person who has worn his heart on his sleeve only for it to get trampled on and wounded over and over.

Whenever Yotha yells at Faifa for treating Gun like an object after Kong and Gun switch rooms, this is the first time we see someone directly addressing Yotha where it hurts most, which Faifa advocates for Gun and his decision to distance himself from Yotha's toxicity where he has no one else to blame but himself. In a different timeline, Faifa could have easily sided with his brother due to familial loyalty, finding himself sympathizing with Yotha's parental neglect growing up as well as his past relationship with Warich that ended in heartbreak to the point of no longer believing in love. However, despite dealing with his own childhood traumas, Faifa chooses to do the right thing and protect Gun, someone who had become a strong friend while changing his brother little by little.

I'm excited to see where they go with Faifa, especially after Wine becomes the next code nong. I really hope Yotha truly takes this time to self reflect and to move past his own toxic behavior and past, knowing that if he doesn't, he will not only lose his love interest, but potentially his newly found friends and the closeness between him and his younger brother. I'm loving this series and if anyone needs to be convinced to watch, I hope this post will do the trick :)

[usuallyrated2stars]

It's a Doey world and we're all just living in it (compilation of me trying to figure out how to draw him, from most recent to least recent)

The reason why these two are flipped around is beyond me. Wtf go back

Headcanons I have are under the cut, if you'd like to read (:<

Okay, so, these are divided between the "yippee most toys survive and make a community outside in the wilderness or something!" au, and canon

AU:

No one at the community is struggling in any massive way, nor is there any threat of danger or starvation, so Doey feels like a tool that is going unused

Matthew is struggling with this the most because he's so used to helping everyone all the time and feeling useful through service to others (picture Steven Universe Future) so when people DON'T need him to fix something, he feels terribly useless and insignificant

Kevin had to shove both Matt and Jack down just to survive a Prototype encounter, which made them both feel like they were just in the way

Jack and Kevin also feel the emptiness of peacefulness, but to a slightly lesser extent than Matt

Doey compensates for the lack of his usual roles (hunter and gatherer, leader, protector) by doing a LOT of chores. This is fine given that he was made for fulfilling multiple tasks at once, but Doey pushes himself way too far

He doesn't eat unless he has to (physical limitations or peer pressure) because he struggles a bit with trusting food since he didn't need to kill or risk his life for it (sus) and a part of him feels like he doesn't deserve it

Very stressed in general

Loves hanging out with Kissy! She is an awesome listener and lets Doey rant about silly stuff, all the while nodding attentively. It makes him feel valued, even if he isn't saying anything important

Got dangerously close to getting Poppy's ass and beating her to death after the Safe Haven got destroyed (luckily there were survivors and other non-feral toys around the factory, no all hope was not lost). It took the combined efforts of Kissy, Poppy, the player, and a few survivors to convince Doey that he shouldn't shatter her yet

Fully believes he doesn't need Poppy anymore as he ran Safe Haven successfully be himself, and still holds resentment for her to this day

Canon:

While one dough boy is operating Doey, the other two can still say their piece in Doey's head, just not out loud. This leads to Doey all of a sudden breaking out into fits of laughter at a joke one of them made in his head, much to others' confusion

Jack is not afraid to be himself. He'll giggle at nothing in particular, just because he feels like it. He'll cry in front of everyone, because he was simply sad. He'll do whatever. He accepts he is and will always be a doughman, and while he would give nearly everything to go home (he still sobs about it sometimes), he might as well make the time he's spending in the Safe Haven a happy and honest time

Kevin and Matthew are having a harder time accepting their fates, even after years. They very clearly remember the sun, their friends, their lives, growing up, getting their first pimple, getting nervous around girls, chewing gum, playing sports, getting sweaty, all of the normal teenager stuff. There are little bits of them that still believe that once they leave the factory, they can go back to being teens in a normal world. It's a terrible tugging feeling in their chests whenever they think about how impossible it is now. Matt used to have dreams of going to college. He wanted to be a teacher.

Doey stims a lot. (I personally like the headcanon that Kevin and Matt have autism, but shhhh, you didn't hear that....) His body makes it especially fun to stretch and stick and mess around whenever he's excited or bored, though Jack and Kevin often forget they're NINE HUNDRED POUNDS and CAN DEFINITELY KILL SOMEONE IF THEY GET TOO HAPPY

Side note: I LOVE how the guy in the Kevin tape says "nine...HUNDRED. POUNDS OF DOUGH." it's so funny, like yeah, Doey could accidentally thwack a critter if he flaps his hands too close to the poor thing

He can eat just about anything, but usually only eats toys that he knows are beyond reasoning with. Pianosaurus? Feral. He knows when to cut some of his losses

He was kinda self-conscious about his appearance (who wouldn't? You're made of dough) especially because Jack, Matt, and Kevin were never as tall nor weighed more than like, 150 pounds. Doey got over it pretty fast once Safe Haven got running and it's members said they thought he looked really cute (he is (: )

[signanothername]

I have a question! Have you heard of "Blue Joins The Bad Sanses" by @darkmuffinstudios? I was wondering what it would be like if something like that happened in your AU? Would it be Blue gets tricked and then realizes he made a mistake but Nightmare won't let him leave, or would something else happen?

Uh- I heard of the idea? As in I heard of the idea of Blue joining the Nightmare gang, but I never really heard of darkmuffinstudios’s specific version of it if that makes sense, most of what I’ve seen of it was in the form of multiple different fics around ao3

Still, not the point shzggs I get what you’re trying to ask

Uh well, the idea of blue joining the Nightmare gang wouldn’t even work in my multiverse tbh

It wouldn’t work because

1-Nightmare is very much not accepting any new members on his team, nor is he recruiting anymore people beside MTT, he could only barely tolerate the presence of three under him, and they’re already much work, plus, he sees it as a waste of resources to bring in more under him when MTT are enough to do the jobs he wants them to do, Swap’s existence would simply not provide anything for Nightmare but make him do extra unnecessary work, Nightmare would rather remove Swap from the picture entirely, than include him in it (basically kill Swap than recruit him)

2- Swap isn’t easy to manipulate or break, so even if Nightmare wanted a new recruit and he chose Swap for it, it’ll take so much time and effort to break Swap that Nightmare thinks he could instead save these resources for more important matters

Swap is one persistent mf, and someone who can go through horrifying shit and still hold his head high, like it never even happened to him, always find the light even in the darkest of times, always believe there’s hope when there seems to be none, Swap, is quite literally, more of what Dream wishes he could be than Dream himself is able to be, it’s one of the reasons Nightmare sees swap as a genuine threat to him, and as a reminder, my version of swap is a variant that went through Killer’s eye stabbing incident, and while that significantly affected Swap, it never truly weakened him, whether mentally, emotionally, or physically, quite the opposite, Swap took it as a learning experience and simply worked to better himself and his approach to things

And if Swap can go through that shit and still hold his head high, still put a genuine smile on his face, not taking his disability as an obstacle and instead find his footing with it like he had it all his life, without any resentment towards Killer at all, it’s obvious to Nightmare that it’d be a waste of effort to try and break him, he might as well just put his efforts into something else, something much more within reach, tangible, more likely to happen if you will

So even if Swap somehow ended up in Nightmare’s castle, under Nightmare’s mercy, it would take much more than Nightmare’s willing to give for Swap to break, hell, I think it’s a bit more likely that Swap would negate all the work Nightmare put into keeping MTT in line, give MTT too much of a shining sparkle of hope (much more than Nightmare would allow around his subordinates), and much more for Murder and Horror (Killer is a whole lot of a different story), give them the strength they need to disobey, to find a different path for themselves, to risk it and try to find their freedom

[always-just-red]

hello hi! ik the fandom mostly favors interactions between LIs & MCs/Readers but i was wondering if you have your own ideas between the LADS boys like friendship headcanons between them? how their dynamic works and which would be the best bros with each other or strongest siblings rivalry vibes between them (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)

hopefully this is alright to request! 🙏🏻

Hi!! That's totally alright, I've seen so many good takes on this already and I love a good character analysis, so would love to weigh in! I waited to answer this since I was actually working on this fic when you sent it, and that's got all the guys interacting, so check it out if you're interested! 🥰

Disclaimer: These are all my personal headcanons! I'm not the authority on the boys and their characterisations, nor do I claim to be, so pls be respectful if you disagree with anything!

Ok so!

I can see Rafayel and Sylus getting on well once they're more familiar with each-other (though maybe that's just wishful thinking on my part).

I think Sy would honestly force Raf to confront a lot of his own insecurities? After all, Sy seems a lot more comfortable in who he is-- he's got that self-assuredness and charm that we all know Raf has to put more conscious effort into portraying. Whilst we don't know the extent of his past, Sylus has clearly made peace with the fact that he has to do bad things sometimes, whereas Rafayel still seems to have a lot of inner conflict around his actions, morality and identity.

I imagine Raf resenting Sy a little at first and so acting out a bit, trying to one-up him etc, and Sy being Sy, I think he'd probably rise to the challenge (he could be the bigger man, but like, where's the fun in that??)

Sylus is smart, so I think he'd probably realise pretty quickly that Rafayel is masking. They've both been through a lot, and once they see that in each-other there'd be a mutual respect I hope. Plus they probably have common enemies?? So if they can both get over the instinct to lone-wolf it, that's one kick-ass team ready to go (and I will be SEATED, ready to enjoy the view!!!)

If the guys are all out together, Zayne's probably gonna take it upon himself to be mediator, care-taker etc, especially as I think he'd be the one to read between the lines and notice if any of the others are struggling (e.g. if Rafayel's getting worn out in a social setting).

At first, it would be because they're MCs friends! He knows she cares about them, so he's gonna be looking out for them all. But he needs a break! So once they're all more familiar, I can see the others trying to coax him into relaxing and letting his guard down a bit, and he'll appreciate that! (But he will keep one eye on the ball because, like, imagine Raf coming up to you and saying 'I've got this, you can totally trust me' like you would have a med-team on standby, y'know?)

I think Sylus and Zayne would naturally have a bit of rivalry in terms of authority, but it would be light-hearted. There's an ongoing debate around who MC left in charge (Zayne) but there's only one person who's actually convinced by that debate (Sylus). He's gonna assume leadership position anyway, and Zayne lets him get away with it to a specific extent, unless it crosses a line, and then it quickly becomes clear who the real leader is.

Xavier!! I can see Xavier being the 'quiet one' of the group who secretly has a lot more sway than any of them realise. The others are super comfortable around him, especially Zayne when he actually wants to relax, or Rafayel when his social battery is dead. But! Xavier's no push-over, and that quickly becomes apparent in any conflict.

I actually think Sylus would enjoy stoking Xavier's darker side (if Xavier gets involved in an argument you best believe Sylus has the popcorn ready) and that the two would make pretty good sparring partners. They'd have fun with the whole Hunter's Association vs Onychinus thing, similar to the MC/Sylus dynamic.

But at the end of the day?

There's a reason we love the boys-- they're all good guys, and whatever conflicts there are, they're gonna figure it out for MC's sake. They've all been through so much, and they're all selfless in their love for MC, so that's always gonna be something they can relate to and appreciate in each-other.

And I think they could all benefit from more genuine friends?

So yeah! That's my take! I know I love angst but I'm choosing to be an optimist, mostly because I love the found-family trope and I wanna see the boys getting up to sitcom-type shenanigans! 😭😭😭

[roselilianhale]

What if Bella was raised by Charlie instead of Renee?

November 13, 1987

"Charlie I can't do this anymore, I feel stuck in this town and I can't put down roots here when I know I'll be miserable. I can't make this mistake anymore which is why I'm gone by the time your reading this. It isn't you, I love you with all my heart but I'm lonely and I feel empty inside because of it. I just can't stand to be here anymore. But, most of all, I feel that even if I was happy here I could never give you what you want. Stability and responsibility. I never been able to remember the important things. I'm scattered brained and I can never remember for the life of me to pay bills or go to the grocery, if I forget to do it for myself then how can I provide stable childhood to my daughter? Or my husband? It isn't fair to you or her. I love you, I'm sorry but it isn't enough nor right."

-Renee

Preface

Three months after I was born my dad and my mother divorced. My mother was never one for small town life. My grandparents on my dad's side were sick and he needed to stay in Forks to take care of them. And he took a job as an officer at the local police station to support them. But that also meant he spent less time with my mother and she was cooped up by herself constantly. I think that weighed on her. I couldn't completely fault her for being unhappy or wanting to move somewhere more acting. But, I couldn't help but wish they'd worked it out or something rather than her leaving. At the same time at least my childhood wasn't filled with bickering and hatred from my parents, if they were still together there could have been mutual resentment and maybe that would have been worse. I didn't have the best relationship with my mom, I never had after she left my dad I only stayed with her during the summers. And whenever I visited her it felt like I was the parent, I didn't always mind that she wanted to know if I had a boyfriend or who I was friends with or what hobbies I was currently interested in but what bothered me was she was more like a friend than mom. All I had ever wanted was mom not a friend.

But at least I had the greatest dad in the world. He doted me and he never hovered. My dad and I were alike in many ways both more introverted and less social. In some ways though, I think because we were comfortable around each other there could be comfortable silence but also be very talkative with one another. He was more in sports and I was more of a bookworm and yet he took the time to ask me about my books, even if he wasn't one for literature he'd still put in the effort. And even though I despised sports I still asked questions here and there to show I cared.

I loved that about my dad his commitment and unconditional love. It's something I'll always cherish with me. Even if I didn't always get along with my mother, I still loved her. I always would, I will always love them both. So much. I'd do anything for them, even if it meant giving my life for theirs's.

8/10/03

Dear Diary,

My name is Isabella Swan, my friends and family call me Bella, I'm 17-Years-Old and I live in Forks, Washington. My parents are divorced and my mom just remarried. The wedding was beautiful. My dad is still single of course but I can't talk either. I've lived in the sleepy town of Forks since I was a itty bitty baby. My mom left my dad when I was three-months-old. Yikes, right? She only left a note but surprisingly they are on good speaking terms.

My dad was never one for confrontation, he was a very calm and placid guy. My mother on the other hand was erratic and hyper but passionate and loving. My dad was warm and kind but quiet. And my mom was the same except for the quiet part. She was loud and rumbunctious. She hovered and my dad left me to my own devices. He didn't like to be over bearing, he understood I needed space. My mom wanted to know everything, every little detail. She meant well but I wasn't going to say I didn't get annoyed here and there. But I still enjoyed the summers we spent together.

My best friend is Jacob Black, he lives on the reservation. I wish we could go to the same school but we hang on the weekends and spend time building bikes and around bonfires. Jake is a bit younger than me but he's very sweet, a ball of sunshine. I've known him my whole life especially since my father is friends with his. Billy Black. He's like a second father to me, he tells the best stories. We've been doing Thanksgivings and Christmas's as far back as I can remember, I believe my dad and Billy have been friends since High School. He was there for my dad when my mom and dad divorced.

And my other best friend Angela goes to my high school with me. Which, I'm very thankful for. Luckily, we have each other to get through the chaos of High School. Angela and I have a group of friends consisting of Jessica, Mike, Eric, and Tyler. But, I'm the closest with Angela. She's so sweet and bit introverted like me. She's a good listener like me, so we both can talk with one another but also get some good advice. We both like to read and have the same humor. Jessica is the gossip in our group but we can't help but gossip over boys. Ever since her crush on Eric, I've been hounding her over asking him out. And she's been trying to set me and Mike up, I don't have the heart to tell her no. Mike really is only my friend, I think Jessica likes him. Angela been my best friend since we were in diapers and I couldn't have asked for a better friend.

In other words, my life is pretty ordinary and boring. Fun, right?

Anyways, for an early birthday present my mom gave me a diary to write down my thoughts. To help me feel more organized and have a place to vent me thoughts when needed. I thought I should write a little introduction to my life.

Well, hi, this is me. Well, today is the first day of school, so I better get going or else my dad will have my head.

-Sincerely, B.S

Notes: divider by @enchanthings-a idea inspired by a post I saw on tumblr and a fanfiction concepts I saw on reddit.

[ulteri0rm0tives]

so. I never looked thru kerry's laptop b4 (fake fan ik) because it's j honestly something I overlooked, and tbh if u ask me, it's really easy to overlook where it is. but. christ man. this shit is just upsetting.

kinda with kerry on that one, too, like yeah he was definitely a passive aggressive shit stirrer in that response but why tf are we involving the kids in y'all's bullshit? pitting y'all's kids against each other? Like Man. Mannnn.

Ohhh they were so toxic huh 😭

(some more thoughts abt this below)

'this is no place for children', is probably something she told him before, or some variation of it I'm sure, critiquing how his lifestyle could be a bad influence on the kids perhaps? Definitely he should learn to effectively communicate in a mature way without throwing that in her face, like Kerry's legit just being a shit stirrer with that, and she really was like 'lol fine if we're gonna play that game' and had no trouble out doing him there 😭

before even reading these I already thought he'd be one to buy their love, but this kinda confirms it for me. there's also other instances of Kerry throwing money when he can't do more to support (PL coma ending), so honestly, think Louise kinda got him on that one 😭😭

And at least? He tried to backtrack with suggesting they go on a trip together since they, for whatever reason, can't go to his place?

'they were all pleasantly surprised to know they have a father after all' Ugh I already thought he wasn't around much even when they were a family under one roof, and I can just imagine that rift just growing wider with Louise getting the kids and moving away and what seems to be her influencing whatever image they already have of him

Also KERRY GIRL 😭😭 spend time with them!! connect with your children, man!!!! I can kinda get why he wouldn't want to go on a family trip with Louise because I'm sure neither of them are gonna make it fun for each other between arguments and the resentments they clearly have for each other and all the petty snipes, but UGH she literally just called yr ass out for buying their love and being an absent father and here you are literally proving her right. Kerry babe c'monnnn, why don't YOU take them on a trip

tho I wonder if that'll be an easy thing to set up if Louise is the one who has custody and does NOT seem to like his ass nor how he is as a father 💀 and if she's willing to involve the kids in their bullshit I'm sure she's willing to not make it easy? I mean, it is common for resentful ex partners to weaponize custody

But also, her bringing up the fact the kids want to come see him in the first place must be something right? She's at least willing? Sorta? While Kerry is just keeping them at arms length.

Maybe the reason he doesn't want them to come over is because he doesn't want them to see how he's been living? The state of the house, how he's been, etc. But it's also like, dude, c'mon. You gotta make an effort to see them. Why don't YOU go over there then, get yourself a hotel room and plan some fun things to do during the day and spend a couple days there? Like???? There are solutions here?????? It's just a matter of effort.

I do have a draft somewhere about how I think their relationship was, some headcanons, etc, perhaps I'll post it

[mydarlingdearestdead]

Bow in hand, Apollo roared, "Athena has her pet mortals-" The owl on Athena's shoulder squawked as if indignant, "-Why is Hyacinth- A mortal man that I happen to love- such a vital issue to this council?"

"There was no case to make Odysseus immortal." Zeus replied simply, "This is a different matter."

"Odysseus also wasn't killed by the west wind in a blind rage." Apollo's voice, devoid of melody, rose like Poseidon's tide, "And if he had, you would not hesitate to appease her."

Athena rose her head, grey eyes narrowed. She did not protest. Zeus looked hopefully toward her gilded expression for a long moment. Her spear head shone in the final strains of sunlight filtering through the columns, risen by her side. Zeus swiftly faced his son once more.

"What would your mother say?" He attempted, a white-knuckled grip on the arms of his throne.

Apollo conjured an image of his mother- Lovely-haired Leto- and a soft smile grew upon his lips, "Why, father... If I didn't know better, I'd say you were deflecting." Zeus sneered and, cautious, Apollo retracted, "Good thing I do know better.

"My mother... Leto traversed the Earth in an effort to birth me and my sister-" He held a hand to Artemis, who instead rose and brushed his cheek lightly. Without a word passed between them, she returned to her seat, and Apollo continued, "-And Delos became her sanctuary. Our sanctuary. She knew both love and agony..."

He turned from his father in a flash of clarity, seeking the goddess who sat silently by him. "Queen Hera, I will not say I do not hold resentment toward you for your treatment of Leto. But... But I have grown to adore you in every manner of the word despite. I think my mother would respect that... In the moments before she turns me into a frog, that is."

A long instant passed between the council. Hera held Apollo's gaze, ox eyes wide and inviting. Eventually, she replied, "I do not believe you to have answered my husband's question."

Wordlessly, Apollo bowed his head to her and addressed his father once more, "As I said, my mother knew both love and agony in our birth. I do not speak of her love for you, Lord Zeus, because that is simply false, nor do I speak of the agony of childbirth as Lady Hera mustn't be blamed for that. Love for the children she carried-" Apollo spared Artemis another hopeful glance, "- and the agony resulting from the man who raped her. My mother, should she see me here today, would cheer in my favour."

An uneasy look passed between the remnants of Zeus' children at Apollo's words. They each looked to their father in turn, carefully dissecting his neutral expression. Apollo remained, flawed confidence unperturbed.

"We..." Zeus' voice boomed, "Will reconvene the morning of the second day of Thargelia."

Masterlist

[yermes]

Where’d all the time go? ⏰ 

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Pick a meme

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Disclaimer: please take what I say with a grain of salt and not as the gospel. I just want to share some ideas of practicing and giving advice using the medium as often as I can with school, work, and my own personal studies and practice. But I am working on sharing my notes soon so that will be exciting! Liking and sharing does a lot 🥰

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Socials: My Socials **☾**

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The cards

II of wands 🌾

Being caught in a stage of avoidance and ignoring the greater issue takes up time, facing yourself and the fact you must face a new adversary is a tough situation. Walking away and avoiding your problems doesn’t make them go away they only fester and take up more of your mental space, time is wasted in complacency till you can take it no more and must face a new opponent. You cannot make a decision on what to do, you are existing between time sword in hand questioning your next move as you advance upon the hydra. The only thing you can do to make this worth it is to take one step forward, do not hold your back anymore you mustn’t waste more time for your situation will not improve without the first step. You will have to take it soon anyways whether you are ready or not.

Knight of swords Rev 🪿

You’ve been burnt out, you have been restless knowing the passing of time draws through you like a steel blade, you know you have deadlines piling up, you have been acting more impulsive due to the ever mounting stress of the day to day. The burn out is the real issue here however, you were a candle burning at both ends now the rest of your wax is dripping off the sides of the cub board as a permanent stain of your over effort. You have to put yourself back into a pot and make yourself whole again, matter is neither created nor destroyed so you may have to reincarnate into your greater. Enter the rot, lay in bed, take care of yourself, then slowly piece by piece, born yourself anew.

X of swords rev 🫀

You have to let it go for it has been dead for a long time. The corpse of what was rests in the palm of your hands waiting to turn into dust and be taken away by the breeze, you cannot beat a dead horse and you cannot make a fish climb a tree. Sit down. Rest, for holding onto pain and resentment will eat you from the inside and you spent so much time mourning, you spent so much time being sad and now you need to accept the fact that now, you may allow happiness into your life. You may accept joy and pleasure, you are not bad for you will never forget that of which you grieve. But now, you deserve to spend your time for yourself, your memory will always guide you to a soft gentle place where you may be with again, but for now rest and embrace the change.

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Extras:

Story/vent:

FUCK I missed you I was jusr so busy bc I am in a lab where everyone is refusing to pull their weight so I have been dealing with a lot of sleepless nights

I have been volunteering at the ED and ICU

I also go into a lab and may have a few potential more lined up!

Love, germ

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[starheavenly]

(this was about a million more questions than I meant to send sorry! I got ahead of myself, answer what you’d like, no pressure.)

You mentioned Pharma’s codependency with Ratchet and how some deceptions would fake injuries (or actually get injured) to see Ratchet. How do you think he reacted to that? / Was he allowed to help medical visits at all (not saying they allowed him to surgery of course, but more like a basic check up and etc) or was that only after the whole redemption/recovery happened?

Speaking of Pharma’s codependency; how did that work out when Deadlock started to warm up to Rachet? Had he gotten enough work and healing in that it wasn’t an issue or was it a mess? XD (Would be wild of Pharma and Deadlock got along before they added Ratchet)

I'm glad people are invested in these three; they're obviously my favorites! Okay, just had my morning coffee, so it's time for a wall of text.

I still think my idea that half the Decepticons have a tiny crush on Ratchet is pretty funny. It was a little joke on the fandom since so many simp for Ratchet (me, it's me). I don't think Pharma ever noticed the correlation, though. Like I've said, I've moved on from the yandere idea, so Pharma isn't actively threatening people; he's just clingy. Maybe the cons stopped getting injured because they were wary of Pharma being around.

Honestly, I don't think Pharma is ever getting his medical license back. But at the same time, I think part of healing is accepting that you can't be the same person you were or do the same things you used to do. He probably just helps with tools and getting supplies. After a bit of recovery, he would get some of his snarkier personality back and be a bit of a backseat medic to Ratchet. He's healthier but still a control freak, that's for sure.

And Pharma obviously has a resentment to Decepticons in general, so he did not like Deadlock at first; but Deadlock didn't really care about Pharma nor Ratchet either.

This is a super silly detail, but Deadlock writes/talks to Cyclonus on Cybertron since they're all supposed to write to someone. Cyclonus is the one who convinces Deadlock to make more of an effort to get to know people (like how she got to know a little sanitation bot) Once Deadlock actually begins to try, he finds out a bit more about Pharma's whole deal. Deadlock discovers that Ratchet still cares about and helps Pharma even after what he did. Seeing how different Pharma was (a bit of a parallel to Drift/Deadlock), he begins to warm up to both of them.

(Pharma 100% cheats at their games of Go, by the way.)

And I know you didn't ask, but I didn't explain how/why Deadlock leaves Earth. He noticed how fond he was of Ratchet, and that scared him. He really didn't think he deserved any sort of redemption after all he'd done. Windblade and Chromia visit, and he steals their ship. Yes, there is Zenith!Wing. I have to design him, but he's a silly hermit who teaches Deadlock that there will be people willing to forgive him and care about him (also swords; he shows him how cool swords are). So Deadlock goes back to Earth as Drift! And my dratchma bias continues.

[slowd1ving]

ACT II: WITHER ✦ . 　⁺ VIL SCHOENHEIT

Vil Schoenheit and second place aren't supposed to be a thing. He's supposed to be the very embodiment of perfection, so why the hell is someone else's name usurping his crown on the Potions leader board? In which our starring actor cannot quench the flames of academic rivalry and resentment that consume him, nor can he fathom the enigma that you are. gn! scientist! reader warnings: contains nsfw but only later, angst with a happy ending, spoilers for book five, canon-compliant violence

TWISTED WONDERLAND MASTERLIST

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MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

PREVIOUS PART ✧ ･ﾟ NEXT PART

Scene I: Rivalry . 　⁺

Vil’s not quite sure when his coldness towards you turns into unadulterated rivalry, but he thinks it started in the middle of the next Advanced Potions class, where Professor Crewel had asked a question and both your hands shot up immediately to answer.

“Shoenheit,” Crewel utters. You put your hand down, shrugging good-naturedly, but Vil can see past that forced body language into the annoyance of that casual gesture.

“The pH in which that particular enzyme denatures should be 2.8. Enzymes after that point should be avoided and Silvertear root is typically added in to continue as the second stage’s catalyst,” Vil’s voice is clear and articulate. Crewel nods in approval and continues the lecture, and he thinks that’s where your feelings of rivalry started blossoming.

He notices the little looks you send his way; the way your eyes are half-lidded in exasperation tell him everything he needs to know. You’ve been goaded into approaching the bait he’s left. No use in crushing you if you aren’t at your full potential, right? That’s the way it should be.

He taunts you with snide comments; you fire back almost immediately. You’re not as bashful as you initially look. This hatred is more cathartic than the deep resentment he has for Neige. It consumes him. It eats at his mind, his heart. When he shoots his movies, you’re always there at the back of his mind, taunting him into becoming impossibly beautiful. Adela’s only got praises for those emerging “fierce eyes” of his.

“What’d you get?” you peer over his papers every time he gets them back. He doesn’t know when sitting next to you becomes a second thought.

“You little fucker,” you always pout in mock-sadness when you see that red circled 100% on his written exams, before showing your 90% on the test that you had to verbally translate for Crewel to be able to mark it.

“You’re always so vulgar,” he scoffs back. He scoffs again when he sees those stupid doodles on the corner of your test paper.

Your remarks only extend to when you sit next to him in the laboratory. Otherwise, you ignore him when walking around the school, always focusing on whoever you’re talking to. It’s always those ruffians of first-years; you’re in the company of that red-haired potato and that dark-haired tuber almost daily. Regularly, you’re seen chatting with Rook. Vil watches from a distance, watching the hunter eagerly discuss the latest scientific theory with you. He watches you accept kisses on the hand from the vice Housewarden with a smile and laugh.

He does not care.

He watches you get along with Leona, of all people. He watches the way the lion actually listens to your suggestions if you have input on Spelldrive practice. Why are you suddenly such a precious commodity? Even the notoriously standoffish Azul makes an effort to at least greet and smile at you if he sees you, even after his Overblot (which you partly caused!). If Vil happens to be walking nearby, you’re always in the company of at least one of your friends, even if it’s only that unsightly cat.

He doesn’t think he cares.

He doesn’t think you care either. If you’re standing next to him in line, or bump into him at the library, you’re always carefully civil. Your eyes slide off him as easily as oil, looking through him. Do you not treat this rivalry seriously? Whatever remark he has always catches in his throat as you act as if he’s nothing more than a goddamn wall. It only fuels his resentment - it has to go somewhere, right?

Adela’s remarked that his eyes, when modelling, have a more wistful quality - nothing like the “fierce” look his fans had come to adore. This new look also garners a lot of popularity, with throngs of fans in his comments expressing their adoration for this newfound look.

Does he not take up your thoughts at all like you take up his?

Scene II: Song . 　⁺

It starts up all over again after the winter break. The sky is grey, peppered with clouds that slowly sprinkle snow all over Night Raven College. Vil’s heard rumours from Rook of you being involved in yet another Overblot; this made four in just as many months. He feels a headache blossoming just thinking about it.

He shivers as he takes his seat in the laboratory. The rankings should be posted within the next three weeks - plenty of time to brush up on his skills for the final assignment. Plenty of time to take back that number one spot. It’s been occupied by you ever since you arrived. Your practical work with potions is always polished to absolute perfection, though your grades with written work rarely ever meet that 100. But when they do, you turn to him with that shit eating grin on your face.

Speak of the devil. The distinct rhythm of your footsteps jars him out of his thoughts. Vil busies himself by looking at himself with his cosmetic mirror. Twice he adjusts his tie, ignoring you all the while. If you want to ignore him, he’ll do the same.

He doesn’t know what he was hoping for. You simply open your notebook while propping your chin up again on your hand, doodling and rewriting your previous notes in your strange Latin alphabet. Vil takes in your tired appearance, how you look more exhausted than usual. A drop of pity splashes into his turbulent mind. Pity. That has no room in his mind, especially with the Song and Dance competition only a few weeks away.

Resentment fuels him to new heights. His dance practice runs flawlessly; spite powers him like an engine. The aches of his muscles leave his mind feeling euphoric as he stretches them out.

It’s only when he spots you and that idiot trio talking to Epel that his good mood shatters instantly. How dare you distract him from singing practice? Vil’s body reacts before he can fully think; he marches himself over to the well with a scowl on his face as he lectures all of you for disrupting such a crucial time. He does not miss the way your eyes smoulder with annoyance - his walk back to Pomefiore is one with a cheerful gait.

To his revulsion, you’re somehow roped into being the manager of the group after the SDC auditions, by Crowley of all people. Even worse, he’s forced to sleep in Ramshackle Dorm with the rest of the team to gain some camaraderie. It’s logical, he can’t help but admit it, but the thought of living in the same space as you makes him shudder. Even worse than that moth-eaten couch he’s currently perching on in the living room after the first day’s gruelling rehearsal. It’s a far cry for Pomefiore, but he’s always been a stickler for routine.

“Hey Rook-” your voice intrudes on his little bubble as you bound into the room, holding what seems to be a microscope and a bundle of mechanical junk, including electrical wiring. Vil swivels his head towards you, but you don’t even deign to look at him. Instead, you approach Kalim who sits criss cross on the carpet in front of the fireplace.

“Have you seen Rook?” you ask Kalim hurriedly. “I need that hunter for an experiment.”

“Nope! He might be in the kitchen though!” Kalim’s enthusiastic voice betrays his excitement. “What kinda experiment are you planning?”

“It’s like you’ve robbed Ignihyde,” Epel comments from behind Vil. “S’full of stuff like that.”

“Just some magic resistivity testing,” you explain, rummaging around in your stash of junk. Your eyebrows furrow and you glance around the room. “Have any of you seen my ammeter?”

As luck would have it, there’s an oddly shaped box lying half-submerged in those ugly rags you’d call cushions on the other end of the couch Vil sits on. A large triangular symbol is painted in black with a circle around it. Vil picks it up wordlessly and clears his throat. Your eyes turn to him finally - finally! - and you snatch the box up eagerly.

“Cool, thanks,” your voice is already slipping away as you turn around, a jive in your step as you seek the hunter.

“Good luck in your experiment,” Kalim calls out after you - with the way you eagerly yell something back indistinctly, Vil is sure you won’t need it.

Scene III: Interlude . 　⁺

Between the constant rehearsing and shaping those potatoes into something somewhat presentable, Vil expects the urge to compete with you to subside. It doesn’t. The fire within his blood isn’t beaten out by the long training he makes himself undertake - it doesn’t rest when he shuts his eyes either. That gnawing feeling of proving himself is fighting to be let out.

“Professor,” Vil’s voice is slightly shaky as he approaches Crewel. Normally he would’ve thought everything out before he came here, but his legs moved before his head had a chance to input anything. It’s been happening more and more lately, and he hates the feeling.

“What is this about? Aren’t you rehearsing for the showcase?” Crewel sounds slightly surprised at Vil’s appearance at his office; it’s very rare, after all, to see him when the SDC period begins.

“I want to hold the poison assessment,” Vil doesn’t need to specify to Crewel what this means. Crewel’s eyes soften with worry, but Vil doesn’t need any of that.

“There’s only one person who could have prompted this,” Crewel murmurs his sympathies to the shaking youth. His eyes flick down to his desk, searching through the schedule for the next few weeks. “It’s unorthodox for a non-Pomefiore student to- but.. if that is what you wish, pup.”

Scene IV: Resistivity . 　⁺

The date for the poison assessment is set for the week before the SDC. Vil receives the missive from Crewel; you, no doubt, have received the same one. For an assessment of this magnitude, there’s several days of waiting for the poisons to be tested and assessed by not only Crewel, but a panel of researchers. It’s a big deal.

It’s how Vil became the Housewarden.

Unorthodox. He supposes this whole ordeal is; the challenger is supposed to be the one vying for the seat of Housewarden. Instead, the Pomefiore Housewarden is challenging someone who isn’t even in Pomefiore. And for what?

It’s the ultimate challenge. The laboratory will be his stage for victory.

You shouldn’t even be allowed to undertake the assessment, but then again, you’re always the exception, aren’t you? Vil chokes back a hysterical laugh. He has to prove himself. One way or the other. He has to beat both you and Neige. Being reduced to second place isn’t an option anymore. At all.

A knock resounds on the wood of his room in Ramshackle. It must be Rook. Surely…

“Come in,” Vil feels as if he’s speaking through water. He doesn’t know why he feels so hollow.

The door creaks open. Instead of Rook, there you stand, holding that damned missive. Your brows are furrowed. You look the part of the mad scientists, with your customised lab coat and goggles still propped up on your nose. The smell of matchsmoke emanates off you in light tendrils. Vil just gazes at you. He doesn’t comprehend you.

“What’s this supposed to be? A duel? Rook just told me to go find you,” you unfurl the scroll again, squinting at the runes before you. With a start, Vil realises that one, he’s not even told you about the assessment, and two, you can’t even read the information anyway. What a fool he’s made of himself.

“Allow-” Vil clears his throat as his voice gives out. “-allow me to explain.”

“Go ahead,” you stride over to him, placing the missive in his outstretched hand. Up close, the coppery tang of wires adds itself to the kaleidoscope of scents he can feel. Underneath all the various chemical traces, clings a pure, unadulterated scent of.. the Dream Flower? Faintly, he remembers eavesdropping on your conversation - les fleurs des rêves. Somniablossoms. That’s what he smells on you, beneath all the conflicting scents.

“Right, the missive,” Vil scans over the parchment; it’s essentially the same letter he’s received, with a few inconsistencies. “It appears you have been selected as the student challenged for the poison assessment. Though you are not a Pomefiore student, your application has been approved by a figure of authority. Your assessment is to brew your most potent poison within a three-hour time limit, supervised by Professor Divus Crewel, alongside your opponent. The poisons are then sent to be assessed across a seven point criteria. May the legacy of the Fairest Queen guide you.”

There’s a long pause. Some rustling. Vil looks up from the letter to see you wiping away smudges on your goggles with the hem of your lab coat.

“Well,” you finally speak. Vil waits. “I’m assuming you’re my opponent?”

You’re taking this differently than he had expected. He thought you’d sneer down on him for this desperate challenge; that’s what he would’ve done had someone challenged him. Deep down, he isn’t surprised by your nonchalance - it’s something that’s intrinsically rooted in your being.

“Yes,” Vil begins to explain himself, but you hold up a hand to silence him. He shuts his mouth.

“Spare me the details,” you shrug it off. Like always. Vil feels a bitter laugh surge within him; it takes everything he’s got to suppress it. “I’ve got interesting news from my findings with Rook.”

The suspense builds. You take your time before your next words, folding your goggles and tucking them into your lab coat pocket.

“Come to my lab.”

Vil blinks, then follows you out the door. It’s a relief. You haven’t yelled at him, cursed him out, or anything someone else in this position would’ve done-

“Look, I really don’t like you,” you mutter, as if you’re deliberating whether you want Vil to hear you or not. “You’re an arrogant prick who picks fights for reasons that are beyond me. But I want to make something extremely clear before we start the assessment.”

You shove open a door before Vil has time to register what you’ve just said. It’s strangely gratifying to be the villain in someone else’s story for a reason other than his beauty.

A gust of warm air barrels past him as you barge into what appears to be your lab. An array of tabletops are arranged in the room, and shoved on top are all sorts of appliances he doesn’t even have names for. He can vaguely make out a fractional distiller perched precariously on the edge of a table, but the clanking and whirring machinery elsewhere throw him for a loop.

Rook stands in the corner of the lab, peering through what appears to be a microscope. He’s also decked out in what appears to be spares of your lab gear, judging by the ugly little doodles embroidered on the fabric. Not drawn on - embroidered. It’s such a waste of thread he almost laughs out loud.

“Welcome to my lab,” your greeting is completely monotone. “Where the equipment here is every scientist’s wet dream.”

Vil ignores this.

“I would know,” Rook chimes in, beckoning you over. Vil also ignores this. You make your way around a table to look at whatever’s on the slide, grabbing your class notepad and scribbling something down.

“The structure’s slightly different,” you murmur, twisting the fine adjustment knob. Vil wants to scream. You’ve invited him here and already you’re sidetracked.

“What’s going on?” Vil crosses his arms over his chest. He feels out of his league here, and as he spots you and Rook sharing a glance that feeling only seems to worsen.

“Magical resistivity,” your pencils scritches the side of your neck as you pull out a stool and sit on it. “It’s the reason why none of your potions or whatever you call it ever achieves that 100.”

“I’ve never heard of that,” Vil scoffs as he stares you down. You meet his gaze.

“Yeah, because I’ve just found it,” you slide your notepad towards Vil across the table. He picks it up, noticing the two diagrams of what appear to be cells drawn on the page. One side is a typical animal cell here, whereas the other… the other appears to be missing a few organelles.

“It’s a side by side comparison of one of my skin cells and Rook’s,” your voice contains an element of barely restrained excitement. “Notice those structures in his? Those magic generator thingies?”

“Yes,” Vil’s heart is slowly starting to race.

“From examining the flora cells here, they’ve got a key difference against the ones in my world. That extra structure is what generates magic power in people here, and it extends to plants here as well,” your eyes begin to light up. “Then, I began questioning why my yield in Potions is so much better than everyone else’s. Rook’s kindly told me that 100 point potions are practically unheard of here, and it occurred more than once so it’s clearly not a coincidence right?”

“Right,” Vil’s mouth is dry.

“So, I ran some magic circuits using some equipment I borrowed, and some stuff I tinkered with, and I used both my hair and Rook’s to test for conductivity of magic. By hooking Rook’s magic pen up to the circuit, he could feed magic directly into the circuit.”

You motion for him to turn the page, where a page of incoherent scribbles meets his eyes. Vil’s eyes almost roll back into his head with exasperation.

“When my hair was hooked up, there was no magic lost - the initial magic was identical to the place where my hair was. But when Rook’s hair was hooked up… the magic output was only around 96%. And when we tested skin cells, his fell to around 94%, whereas mine remained constant.”

A pause.

“So when potions here are made, there’s always a margin of error in the precision, because of the magical resistance in your very being suppressing the natural magic yield of ingredients. Of course, this means I’m more susceptible to the spells here… so it’s not a complete win,” your ramble slowly dwindles out. Vil feels his eyes about to burst from their sockets. Of course. That consistent 100 in your potion work.

“Plus, my refinery skills are so unbelievably sexy,” you puff out your chest proudly. “It’s like those triple threats in theatres.”

So what’s the third skill? Vil almost allows the biting remark to leave his lips before he restrains himself.

“Anyways, I’m going to wear some lab-issued rubber gloves for the actual poison assessment, so that should bring that magic resistivity up, since the gloves are made here,” you stand up from your stool, walking over to Vil. Your eyes are half-lidded with a deep annoyance.

“I’m going to beat you from square one,” you promise. Vil wouldn’t want any less effort from you.

“I adore the tension here; what a truly stunning display of beauty,” Rook chimes in, and Vil can practically hear the stars in his eyes.

“How did you get Crowley to fund all this?” Vil suddenly asks, as if noticing your lab for the first time. The equipment here almost gleams with technological prowess, and he’s genuinely curious.

“He didn’t,” you shrug. “I’ve made a side hustle selling potions, and I buy old equipment from both Crewel and Ignihyde and convert them into models I’ve seen in my world.”

“Don’t you need a licence for potion selling?” Vil frowns.

“I can’t read,” you shrug again. “That law’s irrelevant.”

Before Vil can respond to whatever the hell that response was, you shoo him away.

“C’mon Rook, I’ve gotta show Crewel these findings,” Vil can faintly hear your voice as the door firmly closes in his face.