#not sure how much of this makes sense - i can't understand my own sentences when i try to read it back

[perplexingluciddreams]

Reading on my new kindle. Getting lost in the familiar rhythm of reading words on a page is such a lovely feeling.

The times I felt safest as a child were when I was reading. Usually curled up in bed around a book, sometimes using a book light or a torch to read under the covers in the dark (when I was supposed to be sleeping!).

I have written lots in the past about how I process language and how much I am - and am not - able to comprehend (and how that has changed over years). I won't go into that more here, mostly because I don't have adequate words right now.

The fact is - I was most likely not understanding or comprehending or experiencing a book/story in as full a way as someone else, or in the way it was intended. However, that does not take away from the impact that reading it had on me, and how it made me feel. How reading still makes me feel (even with all that I lack in the way of imagination and mental visualisation and so on and so forth).

I am not sure what I am trying to say or if I am saying it right. I think my point is; the act of reading makes me feel the same every single time, over years and years. It is one of the most consistent things throughout my lifetime. And I don't have many of those consistent things that are positive and safe and lovely.

Reading has been, for most of my life, one of the very few things I can confidently say about myself. I like to read. I read a lot. I love books. I don't have much sense of self or identity. Reading (and my other special interests) gives me something that I can at least use as a stand-in for an identity.

I am grateful for this.

[luveline]

WOULD LOOOVE to see badass reader get jealous over someone flirting with spencer

ty for requesting ♡ —spencer reassures you when he catches the eye of a receptionist at the ocean city precinct. fem!reader, 1.3k

Hotch lives on coffee lately. Any type from any source, he doesn't care what it tastes like so long as it keeps him awake. You're similar, in that even if you hated it, you'd keep it to yourself. 

But you're frowning in disgust at your cup. Eyebrows wrinkled, lips in a fierce line. Hotch sighs and puts his hand on the back of your chair. "Are you alright?" he asks. 

You've never told him otherwise. "Fine. Thank you." 

"There's water in my bag," he offers. You won't meet his eyes. You probably have a headache. "And aspirin." 

For as long as he's known you and worked with you, you've been as you are now, quiet, stern, with little sense of humour at work and not much more outside of it. The only evidence of your soft heart is how you work like a dog, and how you treat your coworker, Spencer. He's your achilles heel, your tender spot in all the tough scarring. Hotch knows there's nothing anyone can do to make you feel better if they aren't him. 

Hotch turns on the spot to look for him. The case you're working on here in Maryland has hit a lul, and exhausted faces peek out from behind their desks at Hotch's looking. He searches for the short mop of brown hair that's required and finds it in an unusual place. 

Spencer has been waylaid by a receptionist. Glimmering eyes, shiny silver fingernails that tap the desk in front of her as she speaks, the receptionist clearly has Spencer hanging on. He takes a step back and she doubles down, her storytelling audible from across the room. 

"You'll have to see it for yourself, Dr. Reid, it's a sight!" 

Hotch looks at you from the corner of his eye. "I see." 

"Don't know what you're talking about," you mutter. You stand and tip your coffee into the bin, letting the cup fall in after it morosely. 

"Why don't you go and help Reid?" Hotch asks. 

"Help Reid what?" you ask. Your tone betrays you —jealousy, sure, that slight crisp to your words that must hurt on the way out, but worse is the weakness as your sentence ends. You're jealous, and it's upsetting you. "I don't think I want to help him with that." 

Derek swings into the sequestered space you've been using to operate and beams at you like he knows exactly what you're thinking. 

"Isn't it surprising how quiet he can be? Years of catching bad guys and he can't say no to a pretty woman," Derek says, giving you a knowing look.

You and Derek have a half-hearted rivalry in that he loves to flirt and you disapprove. Your soft spot extends solely to Spencer no matter how hard Derek tries to sway you, though as you and Spencer have gotten closer, you've softened.

Hotch thinks that Derek's teasing might erase any progress that's been made. 

"Morgan," he says reproachfully. 

Derek makes a who, me? face but quickly gives in. "Why don't you go save him?" he asks you. 

"He doesn't need saving. Spencer is a grown man who can make his own choices," you say quietly. 

Hotch bites his tongue. Thankfully, Derek speaks up, without any teasing. "Spencer's been expected to  know how to do things without any help since he was a kid. I really think he just doesn't know how to walk away." 

You look down at your hands. Hotch has been doing his job for a long time, and he can guess what you're thinking from a misaligned finger. You don't feel like you measure up to the woman at reception. You're insecure about Spencer's affection for you, because you can't understand why he likes you so much to begin with. Hotch has thought it about Haley, Derek of Savannah. It's a very human doubt.

"Spencer tends to stand straight," Hotch says, bringing the lip of his paper cup up. "Right now, he's leaning away." 

It's in as simple terms as he can put it without outright telling you that he really, truly believes that Spencer wouldn't bother with anyone who isn't you. That Spencer loves you in the young, all encompassing way, even though neither of you seems to have realised the depth of it yet. 

Confident, no air of the girl frowning down at her hands, you leave the nook to approach Spencer from behind. 

"Hi," Hotch hears you say, "you okay?" 

Spencer visibly relaxes. "Hey, I'm fine. Uh, Y/N, this is Anabelle. Annabelle, this is my partner, Y/N." 

"Partner?" Derek asks. 

It's news to Hotch. Perhaps news to you, if the way you take his hand is any hint. It's like you've never held it before, and Hotch knows you have, he's seen you linking pinkies under tables. 

You strangle his fingers with yours. Spencer doesn't move an inch.

"She was just telling me about the sightseeing you can do here. Have you ever seen the world's longest worm on a string?" he asks you. 

"Hi, Annabelle," you say, turning to Spencer with poorly masked whiplash. "We're gonna try narrowing the search radius." 

"Oh, right." Spencer lets go of your hand in favour of putting a hand behind your shoulder, saying his thank yous and goodbyes to Annabelle before guiding you back to the makeshift BAU base camp. "What took you so long?" 

"What took me so long?" you ask.

"I thought you liked me!" Spencer says, teasing, his voice pitching higher. "I didn't know how to tell her I've already read the pamphlet she was quoting. She seemed nice though, right?" 

"She seemed nice, Spence," you agree, a little wobbly still but a thousand times less sullen than before. "I– of course I like you, you know I like you. Right?" 

Hotch is proud of Spencer for how remarkably he responds. Spencer puts his body between you and Hotch and Derek where they're standing to offer you the privacy you prefer, dropping his voice to match your tentativeness. "Yeah, I know. I was kidding. I think they'd have to reassess my position on this team if I didn't know that." He grabs your arm, thumb pressing into the crook of your elbow. "Are you okay?"

"I thought maybe she was flirting with you." 

Spencer shrugs uneasily. "Maybe. It wouldn't make a difference to me. Do you know that?" 

Your head dips down. Hotch can't hear what you say, honestly, he doesn't want to know. Eavesdropping on the people he cares about in their unhappy moments isn't something he makes a habit of, but it's hard not to hear Spencer's response. "Don't say that," he murmurs. "That's not true… We'll talk about it later, okay?"

You clear your throat. "Yeah. Whatever you want."

Derek doesn't hide that he's been listening very well, pulling a crime scene document up to his eye line as you and Spencer pull apart. Your eyebrows furrow into a glare, but it's Spencer who says, "What?" 

Hotch bites back a smile. Derek grins and holds his hands up in surrender. 

"Just nice to see you taking care of my favourite girl," he smarms.

"Stop. You're extremely unprofessional," Spencer says, helping you into your seat unnecessarily.

"And you're not?" Derek asks, gesturing to his hand where it lingers behind your shoulders. 

You finally chip in, apparently back to your regular self. "Only one of us was responsible for a unit wide HR mandate about inappropriate behaviour." 

"You cannot keep bringing that up." 

"Why not?" 

Hotch takes a sip of his tepid coffee. He'd rather not get involved. 

[uselesslexbian]

the tortured poets department sentence starters.

i was supposed to be sent away, but they forgot to come and get me.

i love you, it's ruining my life.

my husband is cheating. i wanna kill him.

thought of calling you, but you won't pick up.

who's gonna hold you like me?

who's gonna know you, if not me?

sometimes i wonder if you're gonna screw this up with me.

everyone we know understands why it's meant to be. 'cause we're crazy.

who else is gonna know me?

i should've known it was a matter of time.

we could've played for keeps this time.

once i fix me, he's gonna miss me.

he told me i'm better off, but i'm not.

fuck it if i can't have him.

i might just die, it would make no difference.

fuck it if i can't have us.

'cause fuck it, i was in love.

i stopped trying to make him laugh.

how much sad did you think i had in me?

you say i abandoned the ship, but i was going down with it.

just how low did you think i'd go before i'd self-implode?

you swore you love me, but where were the clues?

i'm just mad as hell 'cause i loved this place.

i forget if this was ever fun.

no, i'm not coming to my sense.

i know he's crazy, but he's the one i want.

i'd rather burn my whole life down than listen to one more second of all this bitching and moaning.

i'll tell you something about my good name - it's mine alone to disgrace.

you ain't gotta pray for me.

no, you can't come to the wedding.

it's gonna be alright, i did my time.

i will never lose my baby again.

ain't no way i'm gonna screw up now that i know what's at stake.

they said i was a cheat. i guess it must be true.

yes, i'm haunted, but i'm feeling just fine.

tell me i'm dispicable, say it's unforgivable.

am i allowed to cry?

i keep recalling things we never did.

someone told me there's no such thing as bad thoughts.

if it's make-believe, why does it feel like a vow we'll both uphold somehow?

they're gonna crucify me anyway.

what if the way you hold me is actually what's holy?

you don't get to tell me about "sad."

if you wanted me dead, you should've just said.

who's afraid of little old me?

at all costs, keep your good name.

you don't get to tell me you feel bad.

so tell me everything is not about me, but what if it is?

say they didn't do it to hurt me, but what if they did?

i'm always drunk on my own tears, isn't that what they all said?

i'm fearsome, and i'm wretched, and i'm wrong.

you caged me, and then you called me crazy.

i am what i am 'cause you trained me.

i can fix him. no really, i can.

come close, i'll show you heaven.

trust me, i can handle me a dangerous man.

you said i'm the love of your life.

well, you took me to hell, too.

what we thought was for all time was momentary.

are they second-hand embarrassed that i can't get out of bed 'cause something counterfeit's dead?

you're the loss of my life.

i can handle my shit.

he said he'd love me all his life, but that life was too short.

i can do it with a broken heart.

i'm so obsessed with him, but he avoids me like the plague.

i cry a lot, but i am so productive. it's an art.

you know you're good when you can even do it with a broken heart.

i'm sure i can pass this test.

they said, "babe, you gotta fake it 'til you make it" and i did.

'cause i'm miserable! and nobody even knows!

was any of it true?

who the fuck was that guy?

they just ghosted you. now you know what it feels like.

i don't even want you back.

you didn't measure up in any measure of a man.

were you sent by someone who wanted me dead?

'cause it wasn't sexy once it wasn't forbidden.

i would've died for your sins. instead i just died inside.

i'll forget you, but i'll never forgive.

i haven't come around in so long, but i'm making a comeback to where i belong.

this town is fake, but you're the real thing.

the crown is stained, but you're the real queen.

you're the new god we're worshipping.

it's hell on earth to be heavenly.

[vidavalor]

How do you think the Ineffable Husbands reacted to the 1914 Christmas Armistice?

Also, it is autumn now and very cloudy and soggy, so here is a seasonally-appropriate recipe: https://www.hairybikers.com/recipes/view/caramelised-apple-cheesecake

Aw, a recipe! You're lovely. 😊 That looks amazing!

I envy you being in one firm season over there. September is a transition month here in New England. Half-summer, half-fall. It's very strange, though, not terrible. One day is lemonade and watermelon and the next is where's my blanket? and I need an apple something and looking up what day Bake Off starts to air over here. Another week, though, and it'll be pretty much fall from here on out. Definitely going to make that cheesecake. 😊

I think they probably reacted to the Christmas Armistice the same way many of us do when we learn about it-- that it's both beautiful and morbidly depressing at once. It showed people coming together to express a sense of shared humanity but then they went back to killing one another afterwards. It wasn't a new story for Crowley and Aziraphale because they had seen that in people all throughout history but I'm sure they found the same mix of hopefulness and sadness in it that a lot of people do.

The one who understands what it takes to bring about peace now best in the series is actually Gabriel, imho. It's because he understood the deeper meaning of Sandalphon's words that Sandalphon didn't actually understand himself: "you can't have a war without war."

Some short thoughts on ties between war, frozen peas, and one of my favorite of Agnes Nutter's prophecies beneath the cut.

When Sandalphon said: "you can't have a war without war", what he meant was: "Look how clever I think I am to use this word twice in two ways in one sentence! You can't have a war without War: The Character! Mirelle Enos is playing a character that shares a name with large-scale killing and destruction and I pointed it out! I'm so smart!"

Gabriel, though, heard the potential of bigger ideas: "You can't have a war (a large-scale military conflict) without war (people willing to fight in a war and, also, a person's inner struggle leading them to be willing to fight in war)."

Meaning: A war can only happen if people are willing to fight the war.

Meaning: No soldiers, no war.

Gabriel knew Aziraphale heard it like that, too, and was like lol Aziraphale, this guy thinks he's a poet omg let me flatter him enough that he won't notice that I just tried to help you sell more erotica and didn't murder you for having a lover and then we'll get out of here...

Gabriel saying that he "might use that one day" about what Sandalphon says is a line that-- delightfully-- ages quite differently the more we get to know Gabriel.

We know he said it in that moment to make it sound like he was telling Sandalphon that what Sandalphon had said was just so profound that Gabriel was tempted to use it himself... but we also know that Gabriel is neither as dumb nor as vapid as he strategically lets people think he is and that he understood the deeper way of looking at what Sandalphon said more than Sandalphon did.

Looking back on it, it's Gabriel actually joking about mutinying in front of Heaven's most fervent Metatron-worshipping fascist in a way that is very much going over Sandalphon's head. Gabriel is all can't have a war without war-- yeah, true dat, Stasi a Fond. I'm slowly losing it over here and my favorite fantasy is just peacing out entirely of this whole 'Commander of The Heavenly Host' shit and wouldn't that really completely eff up The Ineffable Plan? Oh, my secret daydream... if only I could...

Then, what happens, though, by the end of S1?

Gabriel sees a kid do just that.

The eleven year old spawn of Satan is all yeah, no, you can't have a war without war. I don't want to start a war. I like the world. I've got enough on my plate dealing with my own life-- I don't want to rule over everyone. I want everyone to feel at peace and be happy and take care of each other.

Gabriel was freaked out because of the consequences of this and the fact that he, at the the time, thought The Metatron might kill him for failing to start Armageddon but, after the day was over and Gabriel had a moment to breathe and think about it, you can't tell me he didn't hear Adam saying that it was too much pressure to be in charge of every other living being in existence and he just wanted to chill with the people he liked and live his own life in peace and let everyone else do that, too and think to himself:

Yeah, kid. Me too.

The dude who is told he's responsible for everyone in Heaven and who sees angels falling as partly his fault and whom the humans deify and to whom they make statues was like fucking hell, the little antichrist brat was right.

He realized that it's not about Armageddon, it's about living and building a life until you have all the world you need. It's about what Crowley and Aziraphale have been trying to do and about what he and Beez were as well. Gabriel's proposal to Beez is a simple one:

What if, instead of Armageddon, there was no Armageddon?

What if, instead of war, there's no war?

So, he ended up fulfilling his own prophecy a bit when the one day came when he used what Sandalphon said-- just not in the way that Sandalphon meant it but in the way that Gabriel himself and Aziraphale heard it: you can't have a war without war... no war exists if enough people refuse to fight it.

That's the way to stop Armageddon.

Gabriel came to realize that the best thing he could do as a leader in Heaven and commander of its armed forces was to refuse to fight, come what may. He quits the army and defects to the embassy of the only independent country that exists in the supernatural world: the United States of Crowley and Aziraphale.

As Agnes said:

...the calm cometh when Redde and Whyte and Black and Pale approache to Peas is Our Professioune.

In this case: Redde/Red (Crowley), Whyte/White (Aziraphale), Black (Beez), Pale (Gabriel). To profess: to state. Peas = the talking of frozen peas because homophone: peace.

The calm cometh when Crowley, Aziraphale, Beez and Gabriel talk and each get closer to their own peace and to peace with one another and help each other to spread that mentality throughout all those willing in Heaven and Hell and Earth.

That's what you feed the other ducks-- your frozen peas. Your own stuff that is disturbing your own inner peace and creating inner wars and small-scale conflicts that, if left unchecked, can build into larger-scale ones.

If you break that shit down and talk about it, there needn't be any war.

Sometimes, it means shedding some armor, keeping an open mind, and admitting that you were wrong-- all things that can be difficult...

...especially for those are secretly tender-hearted but put up that armor to survive in worlds steeped in toxic masculinity...

...and, sometimes, it's maddening because people are scared and get set in their ways and do dumb shit and you have to upend power structures and reinforce more positive behaviors to get them to shut up long enough to start listening to one another...

...but the more who learn to unlearn the harmful stuff at the core of their own struggles and who open their minds up to listening to others, the more we're professing our peas to our fellow ducks and getting closer to peace within ourselves and within the world as a whole and that's what it's all about. It might always be approaching Peas is Our Professioune rather than a perfectly peaceful world but the point is the effort of the approach and to just keep making steady progress as much as we can while we're walking the Earth. After all...

[wren-dy-flowergarden]

A fairytale we will never forget. (Wanderer/f!Reader)

*ੈ✩‧˚₊⁀➴ You are a failed writer of the Academia and Nahida gives you something to write about. Post Sumeru Arc! Wanderer x f!academiaReader *ੈ✩‧˚₊⁀➴A/N: OK! LISTEN- I have so much I need to write and My Precious Treasures is giving me trouble. Let me have my small little scaramouche man to cheer me up until my writing gets better (ꈍᴗꈍ)ε｀*). (Side note: not everything is cannon compliant, Im still on last act of story- but have been semi spoiled lol cause Kaveh stole my heart and the event was sooo cute!) *ੈ✩‧˚₊⁀➴Word Count: 3.3k *ੈ✩‧˚₊⁀➴Tags: if bickering was cute, writing stories together, lots of fluff, light spoilers, writer will do anything for inspiration, poor be'tad

───────────✧.*✦ *.✧.*✦ *.✧.*✦ ───────────────

You've failed again and would you be surprised it's not the first time you have failed.

It might have been the sixth, but you have lost count when your writings could fill ten books worth. You look at the scrolls limply hanging off your desk, the textbooks pilling so high they create a safety hazard of 'homicide by books'.

It's not right. It's not correct. It's not factual. It's not accurate. That's all they say, when they dismiss you with a wave of their hand and close the doors in front of sleepless eyes.

You want to scream, because it's not fucking accurate when a measly academia scholar like yourself cannot even read non-biased readings that do not have the author as Great Sage.

You needed something to take your mind off this.

You needed a break.

"You want to write a fantasy novel?" Aether comments munching on a stick of grilled meat. He looked off put by your comment as his companion Paimon speaks up, "Paimon doesn't understand how more writing is taking a break from writing?"

"It's a break because I can enjoy myself! No need to look at which theory makes more sense than the old. No more citing ancient sages that lived hundreds of years ago that are outdated. A good old fantasy."

Aether rolls his eyes, "And what defines 'good old fantasy'?"

Your eyes shine as you point directly at him. He scoffs as he tries another vendor's dish, "I mean- You have fought literal gods right! Or at least people tell me you have fought monsters that are as strong as gods!" You pause as you comment on your own delusions, "Well- I'm not sure how strong a god is, but it sounds impressive."

Aether is about to stop you as you continue, "Oh! Oh, what about the time you slayed a dragon? That sounds super interesting."

He groans in a way that you sense is that every time someone mentions the words 'dragon', that he must correct them, "For the last time. We didn't 'slay' it. We purified the crystal that made Dvalin sick."

"...So, your saying saved a kingdom from dark magic and that is not fantastical enough!"

You slam a couple mora onto the next vendor as Aether finished his latest dish. Sure, that money was for the breakfast, lunch and dinner for the next two days but what could be better than breathing, live, material!

You plead, "Please! One story, any story! I need something to jump start my brain that is not a library book."

Aether looks up the sky longingly you would narrate it as a 'take me now' moment; but surely not from you.

"Any story?"

You beam nodding as Aether reluctantly says yes.

.

.

.

"So that's the story. Sorry about this but I need to be back in Liyue by tomorrow and knowing (Y/N), she can um- be a lot."

You can't understand the rest of the sentence, but you see Aether talking to a smaller girl with leaves in her hair and flowers that bloomed around her.

At least that is what you say, but behind the boy with a large hat covering his head wore a frown as you could see each flower wilting- dead on the floor fictitiously.

What a buzzkill.

The girl, Nahida is what Aether calls her and she reminds you of sunshine that warms your heart. She smiles as she gives a small wave to you. As she does the boy behind her taps his foot frown never leaving his face.

"I see." And there is an ethereal ring in the small girl’s voice, "Leave it to us, please give the people of Liyue and the him our regards."

"Huh! Us?" A voice speaks at the same time. It was the boy with short purple hair dressed in flowing clothes different than your own. He looked like the wind would parachute him away at any second.

Aether sensing the shift whispered goodbye to you, leaving the room with the small girl and the frowning boy.

The girl speaks up first, "Aether told us of your 'predicament'? She questions because, no, writing a fantasy novel isn't considered a predicament more than getting a thorn stuck in your thumb; compared to how the academia cranks out automatous, encyclopedias of information that are used as the life blood of people’s lives, but in a sweets way she gives respect as she looks in your eyes.

Or so you thought.

"Therefore, he will help you!" And she points her thumb behind her to a balking boy who stomps his foot down. You could have sworn you felt the ground shaking, but that was probably his attitude.

"Wha- I refuse! There is no way I will be helping that baboon." And ouch, because words do hurt but if he had any sense of social norms and could read the room he would not continue. But he did, "You expect me to become one of those mediocre story tellers on the street?"

You glower as you gather any confidence you have in your work, "How dare you. Stories keep people alive!" And he gives you a look as if you are the idiot in the room because stories don't technically keep you alive, but that didn't stop your ramble," They let us share emotional connection with one each other as we can obtain a deeper understanding of people!" Don't say it, remember your manners, “and someone like you that has the emotional capability of a doormat wouldn't understand that!"

You wince as you see the boy’s brow raise underneath his ridiculously large hat, his mouth snarling as he cracks his fingers. It felt like the air was being sucked out of the room.

"Oh, really now?" It sounds like a threat the way his tone bleeds with irritation, "Let’s see who's the doormat once I-"

Nahida, gently places a hand on top of his and the air returns to normal. You let out a gasp that you did not feel you were holding as her voice rings out, "Now children, that's not how to treat each other."

She looks stern? Like a mother that is discipling her child by the way his face writhes into reluctance. She gives you a harsh stare that makes you feel like your own mother is chiding you, "Now, people who ask for favors can't start fighting with the asked. Can they?"

You look down at the floor, digging your heel in, properly chastised, "No... they can't."

She turns to the boy behind, "And people who invite guests into their home..."

He looks reluctant as if this wasn't his first time finishing her sentence, "don't blast them away..."

Blast them away?‌ And you think the right answer should be 'threaten, cause bodily harm, or even joke about causing bodily harm' but the small girl looks content either way.

"Now to start good relationships, we shake hands!" She clasps her hands together smiling.

Neither of you move.

"I rather not take my chances."

"I rather put my hand in boiling water."

Oh yes, this will be wonderful...

You sit down on a bench overlooking the landscape of Sumeru. It was beautiful the way the bustling of the city created a divide between the ethereal beauty of the nature itself to the bustling city life that coexisted with it.

Now that's beautifully said. Wait- but you used the word "beautiful" at least three, not four times now. What could you use instead?

You were about to dive deeper into your thoughts before a voice interrupted.

"Hey baboon!" A voice calls in which you wish was with endearment, because at least that be cuter than plain degrading. The boy pushes a plate of sticky rice plated with different types of fresh fruit, covered with syrupy goodness, "This is disgusting."

He's been doing this a while now, ever since Nahida kicked you two both out of the house with a couple of mora to keep you both full (how nice of her). She commented on 'sharing experiences with one each other', leading you to buy your favorite dessert as an olive branch.

You see the way her pushes the plate off towards the side of the table, "Hey that's my favorite dessert you know!"

And he scoffs folding his hands across his chest, leaning against the chair, "You have the tastebuds of a child then." And of course he continues, because goddamnit he does not know when enough is enough, "Oh- I forgot you are a child trying to create a kid's book."

You don't know which is worse. You going back to your small apartment to keep writing a bleeding thesis paper or you having to deal with this punk.

You take a breath in, you strive for peace, "Well. Then what's your favorite food?"

He rolls his eyes, "I don't have a favorite food."

"Everyone has something they like." You counter because he is not getting off the hook.

He pauses before he replies in pure reluctance, "Tea. The more bitter the better."

Now you're folding your hands across your chest, mirroring him.

"Tea?" You deadpan, "That's not a food."

"Were you not listening? I said I had no favorite food."

This time you scoff, "Well then why don't you like sticky rice?"

"It's disgusting."

"That's not an answer!"

"It is an answer you complete and utterly useless-!"

A third voice, "Excuse me."

You both turn to a server that has seen better days in their effort to survive customer service industry. The man looks at you and then at him, "You need to leave unless you stop yelling at each other. There are others trying to enjoy the view."

You look behind him and indeed others do look frustrated with the boy and you. At least you can read the room before the boy in front of you could, he looked like he was about to argue, and it was an argument he would lose. Slamming a couple of mora with a quick sorry, you grab the boy by his sleeve running out leaving your mango sticky rice behind.

By the time you make it to the top of Sumeru you are huffing and puffing. Air feels like fire as you steady yourself on your kneecaps gasping. Next to you, the boy has every piece of flowing fabric in place, his face not even a drip of sweat upon it. In other words, he looks and probably is way healthier than you.

"How- huff aren't you- dying?" And you say it in a way the means 'how are you standing', 'why are you freakishly healthy' or in a comedic sort of way 'are you even human?'; but his jumps eyes wide as he retorts head up high, "Everyone can run at least that far."

You start to think about your counterparts in the academia and how even a mile run would make you want to never leave your room again, and then you rethink, because Aether is his 'friend?' and that blond hair boy is certainly the least normal boy you know but he might fall into the category of 'everyone' to your interviewee.

That gave you hope.

You sit at a rickety bench underneath tarp that give a nice shade in the sun, fanning your shirt to let air in between all your robes. You notice him standing off to the side, like a cat waiting to be beckoned and that almost makes this time bearably. He must have surrendered, because he sees you eyeing him then the chair across from you and he sit down right on the edge.

"So", you start once you’re sure you can say a whole sentence without wheezing, "I know- that maybe, we got off on the wrong foot," and he opens his mouth for another (probably insensitive) comment and you talk quicker, "but I'm ready to listen to any story you have to share!" There quick and simple.

He closes his mouth, the thin line never shifting in his lips before he huffed, "I don't have a story for you."

And all common courtesy went out the window as you breathe in and out, peace! Peace you say! "Everyone has a story." A twinge of sass, "Like how everyone has a favorite food."

"Fine. I'll be more clear. I have no "fantasy" story that you will want to write."

And you blink, that was not the response you were expecting. You feel the academic spirit ignited in you as you prod for more information, "What do you mean by that?"

He's thinking and you can see thunder clouds brewing in his purple eyes as he clenches his teeth, "You want those dumb fairy tales where idiotic princes go save a damsel huh? Someone who saves you no matter what even though there is no one there!" You describe it as lightning engulfing his eyes as it leaks out with every enunciation in his words. You can feel the hair at the bottom of your neck standing up, "How stupid you all are."

A moment of thought, "Well, if you put it that way it is pretty stupid."

His face contorts in a way that you wonder if your face muscles can do that as well, "Huh?!"

"Yah!" You twiddle you fingers as if trying to connect the dots, "I never said I wanted to write a classic fantasy story! Who gets to say what I will write?" You stand up renewed energy as the cogs move in your mind, "I'm writing this because I want to! Stories are meant to connect us and if I can't hear your story then how the hell am I even supposed to know what to write?"

You don't let him even start. His mouth agape.

"You're right I may be an idiot I will admit. I can't even pass a stupid thesis paper because I am too focused on the fact that every paper I have used as reference sucks the living life out of me faster than I can even graduate." You point a finger towards him, your index finger almost touching his nose and he is spluters, "But Im not an idiot when it comes to sharing others stories."

When you're sure he's not going to start on another rampant of the insipid state of his world you say one last thing. A perfect conclusion.

"We haven't formally introduced ourselves."

His brows furrow, "Ha- I know your name!" He says in a loud voice, but there is less venom this time.

You shake your head, giving little tuts of disappointment, "No silly" he preens at the word but it's payback for him calling you a baboon, "I don't know your name."

The boy eyes cross towards your fingertips as he slaps your hands away, "Get your hand out of my face." You can tell he is thinking.

He gives a sigh, before mulling over the possibility of only one-story telling night vs. a determined author who will bang on his door every day until she gets what she wants. At least that's what you believe he is thinking of.

"You can call me..."

His voice becomes muffled under his hat, and you ask him to repeat again. His violet eyes dart to the side darkening, like saying his name is sooo difficult.

. 

.

.

".... hat guy"

You swear your ears misheard him underneath that large hat he wears as his voice projects to the ground, "Sorry, say that one more time?"

"...Hat...Guy"

This time you blink in incredulous response, "Hat guy?" You give him time to at least say a semblance of a normal name, but he is quiet, hands folded over his chest as his final answer, "Really? Hat guy?"

You throw your hands up, "I thought we were getting somewhere! Like I was trying to open up to you about the whole story thing!" Your hands lower in apocryphal delusion, "Hat guy... what type of parent names them hat guy?"

It's so ridiculous that you start laughing.

"Stop laughing! You're looking more like a baboon than before." A sharp comment breaks you out of breath as you hunch your sides.

You wipe a nonexistence tear from you tear ducts as you look at him. A faint mellow glow is left on his cheekbones- the only word you can use to describe the reaction is embarrassment.

Or anger. Probably anger.

The fleetingness of absurdity leaves you as the last hiccup escapes your lips, he looks like a cat that had water poured on him, "Sorry, sorry! I'll be serious now. Nice to meet you pft Hat Guy!" A guffaw escapes again and this time you have to stop because it looks like he's ready to punch your lights out.

You slip next to him, his face a contorting to annoyance. Pulling out a small journal, that has seen better days, kept in the back of your satchel you find a pen. Clicking the pen as you flip to an open page.

"So. Where do you want to start?"

"Wow (Y/N) you really..." Aether pauses finding the words, "stuck to the facts?" He finishes handing the rest of the paper to Paimon struggling to hold the rest of the pages in her tiny hands.

Paimon struggles to flip through the pages, squinting at the words on the page her eyes flicking to the violet haired boy in the back, "Yeah! Who knew that he was a prince of a continent who was known for dragon slaying? Then went on a thousand-year-old journey to find a piece of paper that hold the secret of a war from a long long LONG time ago...?" Even Paimon was awestruck by your story telling.

You puff up your chest in pride, "Well, the dragon slaying idea had come from you Aether. Gotta switch it around sometimes you know?" And you can see Aether facepalm his face mumbling something that's not worth the effort to narrate.

You turn toward Nahida and the boy of inspiration, "So! How do you like the first draft? I’m thinking of adding more details and vocabulary but all and all pretty good right!"

The girl, Nahida tilts her head in wonder, "I had no idea your story was so rich." She holds a secret behind her smile as she looks up towards the boy who hasn't said a word about the manuscript, "Truly, this has been an enlightening experience."

You nod rapidly, she always knew what to say to lift your spirits. You hop over to "hat guy" as he is staring blankly at your hard work. You give a small poke, and he jerks violet eyes catching yours.

"How is it?" You tilt your head to fit underneath his hat as you point towards a paragraph that has to do with the boy falling out of his kingdom in the first act, "Pretty accurate right? I tried combining multiple classic fantasy stories to create this, like you said."

He doesn't push you away, nor does he voice any acrimony. He does look at you like an adult would look at a child who made a mess of their kitchen before presenting equally a mess of a cake that people have to coo at because- it's a child's cake. Inedible, sloppy cute and the worst part- burnt on one side and raw on the other, but nonetheless a product of hard work made by a child.

Though this could be your imagination but notice him open his mouth after deliberating his thoughts. He decisively says in full confidence:

"I see why you haven't graduated."

[mcflymemes]

MISCELLANEOUS SENTENCE PROMPTS *  collection #8

ever seen one of these before?

you used your own money?

you must be a bachelor.

even you don't spend that sort of money.

that's what it looks like.

i made a very poor introduction of myself to you.

you're a very hard person to convince.

i wonder how they knew that.

that speaks very well for you.

do you follow me?

you tried to kill me!

look, this whole thing better work.

that's why you wanted me here?

there's no use glaring at me like that.

i've always wanted to be in a horror movie.

i'm sorry about being untidy.

that looks pretty new to me.

i thought everybody in the movies was tall.

she almost hit me with a frying pan.

we don't agree on anything.

you're beginning to look like a londoner.

i just bought this.

turn the damn machine off!

i sorta missed the plane...

i'm always getting you angry.

it must be my accent or something.

you can't get a search warrant.

you never expected to meet a legend.

i've been in love with you all my life!

that's something i can't control.

they're sort of like geniuses. unpredictable and erratic.

up until now, you really had me going.

what have you told the police?

what is there to tell?

i'm tired of resting.

i faint. i mean... i actually pass out.

aren't you gonna pour me one?

even when you're angry, you're controlled.

i'm sure you'll find others to harass.

bear with me for one second.

did you ever think of getting another car?

i didn't know you were in town.

i'll tell you what bothered me.

take my advice. avoid actors.

i thought you wanted to use the phone.

you're remarkable.

you have intelligence, you have perception, you have great tenacity.

uh, i feel uncomfortable.

i've never been rude to you.

i feel kind of queasy.

that's not uncommon.

i have never seen anything like that.

i'm afraid i don't understand.

you grabbed me... you pushed me!

stay out of hospitals as much as possible.

you ask tough questions.

okay. you win. you're finally rid of me.

i think you're a very unfair person.

i just can't believe it.

please put out your cigar.

you know, in a way, i have to congratulate you.

do you have anything for an upset stomach?

i could see you were terribly upset.

i have one at home that looks exactly like that.

i think you hate me. i really feel that.

would you mind coming with me into the bathroom?

i would like to tell you something.

where's the honeymoon gonna be?

you must do a little cooking at home.

you amuse me.

it's a challenging time for me.

oh, don't deny it!

i can't turn around without you staring up at me with that blank, innocent expression on your face!

what size are you?

i thnk there's a misunderstanding.

you just incriminated yourself.

are you trying to frighten me?

don't be a fool!

you'll never get away with it.

i tried to be inconspicuous.

what's the meaning of that?

well, i'll be running along.

that is not a good picture.

you were counting on that.

i thought the case was closed.

why are you wasting your time with this?

i'm just trying to do my job.

you're priceless! you're a gem!

everybody makes mistakes.

did you want something?

must i remind you that you have no sense of humor?

if i'm interrupting anything, you just tell me.

i wouldn't do that.

[anonymoushouseplantfan]

I am listening to it on audible and am still only half way through but so far have a few thoughts

1. ⁠It is actually very boring

2. ⁠You can feel the treachery, spite, vindictiveness, deceit, victimhood, maliciousness, envy, paranoia, delusion and manipulation in every sentence, Its oozes into my pores and makes me feel unclean just listening to it. I cannot think of a book I have enjoyed less.

3. ⁠The weird and constant mentions of his mum are just bizarre. I understand the tragedy of him losing her so young, but I am sure his reactions to it are not typically normal for what is now a grown man. He is batshit crazy.

4. ⁠He has long gratuitous sections about killing rabbits, deer, pheasants, and talks at length about the blood, gore and disembowelling. It literally made me feel sick.

5. ⁠He has a grandiose sense of self-importance that is utterly delusional.

6. ⁠His constant references to his drug taking are over the top. He acts like it is totally normal. I understand why this plays a part in his autobiography since he seems to have spent so much of his time taking them. But he seems to glorify it with no introspection on the dangers, and revels in spilling all the details with no cares for the people who have loyally tried to cover up for him over the years. Despite the fact he talks about leaking and planting by his family it is obvious how much they have covered for him.

7. ⁠He doesn't seem to give a damn if he destroys the monarchy, and after reading the book that is what I think he is intent on doing. He misses no opportunity to add in any malicious adjectives, unnecessary anecdote, unflattering (and unlikely) quotes about his family and throws shade and blame on to them whenever he can. He comes over as so petty and malicious. You get the sense that he feels that if he can't be king he will blow the whole thing up.

8. ⁠It is abundantly clear he has no real love for his dad, brother, or grandfather from the way he talks about them, and it is questionable that he even loved the queen. He shows no empathy or respect for them and makes them look bad whenever he can. He can talk all he likes about reconciliation but he has burnt every bridge and if he were my son or brother, he would be dead to me. There is no purpose to a reconciliation - if it is not for love then it is for his own self-serving purposes.

9. ⁠When you read the whole book rather than listening to excerpts, some stories fade into insignificance. For example the losing his virginity story is a minor mention in passing. But what you don't get from the excerpts is the whole sense of nastiness pervading every paragraph. Before reading it I really didn't like Harry, but blamed Meghan far more. Never before have a read an autobiography where someone has the chance to write the narrative of their own life in a way that is supposedly flattering, and I have found myself liking them even less, despising them in fact. He is an utterly nasty piece of work......and I am still only half way through the book.

I'm so glad you wrote it up. Thank you.

I think part of the sense of boredom is that the writing gets monotonous after a while. Also, you are immersed inside Harry's head and he really has no empathy for anyone. When I finished the first few chapters, I felt like I was reading one of those 80s anti-hero novels like American Psycho, where you are looking at things from the viewpoint of a sociopath. The way he focuses on the bedroom sheets and the hole in his shoe and even the way he spoke of women ("she was perfect, perfect, perfect") struck as very Patrick Bateman.

I agree as to the nastiness, hence the American Psycho reference above. One of the passages that most struck me was when the Diana Ghost Leopard shows up and his bodyguards are alarmed. He explains that they were alarmed because if the leopard mauled him the headlines would be horrible. It didn't seem to cross his mind that the bodyguards were scared because they did not want him hurt. He only thought of the headlines. That, to me, shows how warped his mindset is.

Ditto on the Diana segments. It feels almost sweet at first because the first chapters of the book deal with his childhood, but then it turns weird really quickly.

I'm surprised not that many people have talked about the hunting gore. It's very striking and, frankly, alien. I know hunters (at least in the US) and I've never heard of any describing the kills like this. It was truly disturbing, and I'm not anti-hunting. It's just that he seemed to enjoy the gore a little too much.

He is very arrogant, particularly for someone who was supposedly raised with an inferiority complex for being a spare.

Drugs seem to be a part of his identity, which surprised me since I'd bought into the "Hero Harry" image. I don't know if that was always the case, or if he bought into the California drug culture when he arrived there, but it's striking.

He does want to destroy the monarchy. That comes across very clearly.

He seems very detached from everyone in his family, and yet passionately attached to the image he has built of his mom (a tabloid-based image!). It's an interesting contrast. He has no empathy for Will's position at all or for his dad's struggles. His family relationships seemed to be stuck at a childhood developmental level--mom is the perfect nurturer, father is all-powerful, and brother is a rival.

It is all very nasty, and I'm surprised someone didn't step in to explain that to him.

[mandalorianslut]

May I make a request? Of Din Djarin and reader. Where what if the reader and him are in a secret relationship being that only the cult and greef karga know they are together. Anyways what if reader gets jealous by how close bo and din are getting and she gets insecure because she feels like Din could do better than her and she believe that grogu and Din need someone like bo so she ignores din and when he finds out why? Maybe from Bo who noticed the jealousy then he spends all night heheheh smut ensues showing her how much she means to him and how he worships her?

omg this is such a cute idea I hope I did it justice (first time writing smut in awhile) ! thank you sm for requesting :) (this turned out a lot longer than I thought) 1.6k words oops-

You watch as Din and Bo-Katan sit down next to each other around the fire, Bo-Katan holding Grogu on her lap feeding him little pieces of meat, they look like a family. You watch as a helmetless Mandalorian walks up to the three and starts a conversation, you can only make out a few words but that's all you need “Your foundling is very cute, seems like he has two very caring parents.” your heart drops as you hear him say this.

 You stand up abruptly, no longer being able to contain your jealousy anymore, you can’t take another minute watching them. As you walk away you miss Din telling the Mandalorian about you, you miss his soft words as he speaks about you. 

Days pass and your jealousy and anger only grow, watching Din and Grogu hang around Bo-katan more and more. God this is pathetic you think to yourself, Din and you have spent months traveling together, you’ve spent nights in his arms but then why does it feel like that isn’t enough?

As you watch Bo-katan fight off a horde of cholganna that snuck up on Grogu, Grogu being distracted by a frog you can’t help but feel a sense of shame, it should be me saving Grogu, Im his caretaker but you couldn’t get yourself to move, you felt stuck, panic filling your lungs as you watched the cholgannas almost kill Grogu. You watch as Din rushes in grabbing Grogu and handing him to you before rushing back to help Bo-katan finish off the final cholganna. 

As you watch Din and Bo-Katan fight side by side you can't help but feel inadequate, you're not a Mandalorian, kriff you're not even that good of a fighter sure you can hold your own but you're nothing compared to either of them. 

As Din walks over to you and the child you can’t help the heavy feeling that fills your head, causing you to frown as he comes up next to you greeting you with a nod “cyar’ika.” he runs his gloved hand over your arm, checking you for injuries, 

“Are you okay?” he tilts his helmet down, running his hand over Grogu’s ears as he babbles nonsense.

I nod my head, shying away from his touch. “Yeah I'm-i'm okay,” you said through clenched teeth.

“Cyar’ika… are you sure? You seem off.” Din asks, concern filling his words.

You sigh feeling slightly bad for making him worry, almost forgetting about why you were upset in the first place.

You soften your gaze slightly as you look at him. “Yeah…no… I mean-” Before you can finish your sentence you see Bo-katan walk up beside him, taking off her helmet and nodding at you slightly before looking down at Grogu and saying “That was a close call wasn’t it buddy?” she lets out a humorless chuckle, softly petting his ears. 

You feel yourself tense up the feeling of jealousy and shame crawling up your spine.

“I think I’m going to go inside… it's a bit warm out for me,” you say handing Grogu to Din. As you walk away you feel tears threaten to fall, you will them not to not wanting to seem weaker than you already are.

As you walk away Din lets out a sigh, setting Grogu into his crib. He shakes his head not understanding what happened or if he did something wrong. Bo-Katan watches as you walk away frowning before her eyes light up with understanding.

She turns to face Din watching as he sets Grogu down into his crib.

“You know Din… I think your riduur might be a bit jealous,” she says watching as you disappear into the building.

Din's head shoots up at her words, a blush covers his face under the helmet at the use of riduur, he swallows “Why would you think that?” he says confused about what you could be jealous about, he was yours.

“I think- I think she's jealous of how much time we’ve been spending together.” Bo-Katan says, shaking her head slightly.

Din’s eyes widen under the helmet “You- I-” he’s flustered and confused, he really needs to find you and apologize.

Bo-Katan watches as Din speeds off in your direction, she sighs turning to Grogu with a slight smile “Your dad really is something else huh?” Grogu responds with a string of almost words seeming to agree with her.

As you sit in your room wallowing in self-pity and loneliness you hear your door open, you shoot up wiping your face with your sleeve trying to clean yourself up, making it look like you haven’t been crying. 

As Din enters the room he sees you standing quickly wiping your face trying and failing to hide your tears, he comes up to you and cups your face gently “Oh mesh’la, what's wrong?” He says words filled with worry.

Tears start to fall from your eyes, you try to blink them away but feel Din slowly wipe them away.

Din walks you both over to the bed, setting you down with arms wrapped around your shoulder “can i- can I- take a go at what's wrong?” he asks, seeming shy.

You nod your head, turning your body to face him, giving him your full attention for the first time in days.

He turns to look at you, “I talked to Bo-katan and she said you might be feeling jealous of her?” he looks at through the helmet watching as your face falls slightly looking away.

You feel heat rushing to your cheeks, turning away from him slightly. “It's not that I’m jealous I just feel like-like…” you swallow, tears welling up in your eyes “I feel like you don’t need me anymore.” you whimper out. As you look away feeling tears falling down your face you hear the hiss of him taking off his helmet.

He cups your face, bringing your forehead to his resting it on yours, “oh cyar’ika.” he coos “How could you possibly think that? Your the best thing that's ever happened to me, you make my everyday so much better, the suns and moons have nothing compared to you ner cyar’ika.” as he speaks he starts slowly unbuttoning your top.

You whimper slightly as his gloved hand grazes your chest.

He smiles at you chuckling lightly at your whimper. He pulls you into a kiss, nipping at your bottom lip, you let out a shaky moan, hands grasping at the sheets.

He continues undressing you, trailing his hands down your body, stopping just above your waistband, he pulls away from the kiss, holding your bottom lip between his teeth, he leans in close, you can feel his breath against your ear “Let me take care of you cyar’ika… please.” he sounds desperate.

You nod letting out a soft moan.

He pulls his hand away from your waist causing you to let out a whine, he chuckles slightly “Come on mesh’la I need words.” he whispers into your ear.

“Yes Din I-I want you to take care of me.” you whisper out heat covering your whole body.

He trails his hand down your body, taking off your pants in one swift move, leaving you all exposed for him all while he's wearing everything but his helmet. He slowly brings your legs over his shoulders pulling your cunt closer to him.

You let out a loud moan, throwing your head back as you feel his hot mouth engulf your pussy, “oh dank farrik Din please don’t stop!” you thread your hand through his hair unable to stop yourself from trying to pull his face deeper into your pussy.

He chuckles at your antics, his laugh sending a vibration through your pussy causing you to buck up into him. 

He continues exploring your pussy, his tongue licking and tasting every part of you it can. He pulls back, his whole face covered in your juices “Oh riduur you taste amazing.” he runs a finger through your slit, his finger glistening with your own wetness, he puts his fingers up to your lips “suck mesh’la.” 

You open your mouth, tongue wrapping around his fingers, your pussy clenching around nothing.

He throws his head back moaning as he watches his fingers disappear into your mouth, as he pulls them out he watches your face, your eyes glazed over with lust.

He brings his mouth back onto your pussy, wrapping his mouth right around your clit, your hands grasp the sheets, your moans bouncing off the walls.

You can feel yourself getting close “Din Din- I’m -I’m gonna I’m close” you whimper out. 

He hears your plea and sucks harder causing your legs to shutter threatening to crush his head, you feel your orgasm wash over you. 

Din doesn’t let up until you whimper and push his head away. He looks up at you, your eyes glazed over with lust. “How was that mesh’la?” he smiles, moving from between your legs laying down next to you on the bed.

You turn your head to look at him, your eyes filled with appreciation “Din- I- I love you so much.” you nuzzle your head into his neck.

He laughs, petting his hand down your back, “Of course cyar’ika.” he cups your face making eye contact with you, “Promise me that if you ever feel this way again you’ll let me know right away.” 

You nod your head “I promise and I’m sorry I didn’t say anything I'm so sorry I was just scared you’d agree with me.” you feel him shake his head against yours “I’d never feel that way, you're safe with me.” 

You slowly feel yourself falling asleep, your eyes getting heavy.The last thing you see before your eyes fully close is Din pulling the covers over you smiling down at you kissing your forehead “Goodnight riduur, sleep well.”

[beeandheroddobsessions]

Don’t Go Away.

Warnings: Supernatural elements, dead!Elvis, Reader is trapped, psychological torture?, manipulation, Elvis is really unstable.

Summary: Reader has plans made and considering the state of house, can’t stay in it. Elvis isn’t having it.

A/N: It took me so long to decide what direction I wanted to take this in. I love love love wholesome stories but I just had to go with difficult reader/obsessive lover. Anywho, happy reading! -Bee💕

The sun peeking through the curtains and the slight breeze across your face welcomes you into a new day. As your eyes adjust and you regain consciousness, the events that took place only hours ago flood your mind. 

Maybe it was an odd dream; there's no possible way you could've met postmortem-

"Rise n' Shine, sleepin' beauty!" 

A shriek fills the room yet again, and it's apparent that last night did, in fact, happen as you remember it. You're gripping the covers for dear life, chest heaving as your heart nearly beats out of your chest.

 Elvis has always found himself funny. Making you jump sky high has him cackling so hard every few seconds it comes out as a whistle.

"Very funny." You grumble. You toss the blankets to the side and swing your legs over the bed, ignoring Elvis and his incessant laughter, to get ready for the day.

The amused booms dwindle to light chuckles as you rummage through your suitcase. Is it warm? You should dress lightly. 

"Are ya busy today, honey?" Elvis questions while catching his breath.

"With the house? Yeah, I ain't got much of a choice but to be." You reply lazily, inspecting a lavender sundress. Not for housework, you think. 

Elvis kisses his teeth, unsatisfied with what he deems a 'snarky remark,'

"No, I mean are ya leavin'?" 

The only reply you offer is a shake of the head. Something else he didn't like. The faux brunet shifts his position, standing directly in front of you. His expression falls flat, and he folds his arms.

"Now y/n, I may be dead but m'still a person. I know your mama taught you better than to ignore someone when they're speakin' to-"

Seeing where this is going has you arching a brow. Who knew he'd feel so entitled to your attention.

"I didn't ignore-"

You can't even get through the sentence before a chair comes rushing from the other side of the room and under your rump. You grip the arms of it, unsure of what just happened. The shocked, more so scared, expression painting your features phases Elvis none.

The man leering down at you breathes in through his nose before placing his hand over yours and squeezing tight.

None of this makes sense to you. Yesterday when you tried to touch him, you went right through, leaving a trail of smoke. Now you're faced with something you can feel. It's unnerving. 

When Elvis begins to speak, a real chill is sent down your spine."  

"Honey, I understand it's early and I gave ya a bit of a fright. That don't mean you get ta be rude to me in my own damn house,” He pauses to take in a breath, eyes stilled trained on you.

“I don't give a damn how much money you spent to get your hands on it. I am trapped here, not you. I'm the one stuck in these walls forever. Not. You."

You're shaking like a leaf. Figuring he's finished, you open your mouth. Elvis holds up a finger, wanting to be sure you understand what he is saying. 

"I know the ins n' outs of this place like the back of my goddamned hand. Don't you cross me twice, sugarplum, wouldn't want you to get lost."

With those striking blues locked with your own eyes, all you can do is nod as you begin to sputter.

"I—M'sorry, Elvis I-" 

As if a switch was flipped, the man before you flashes one of his infamous crooked smiles and clasps his hands together, returning to the drapes.

"No harm done! What'd ya have planned for today?"

The sudden change in demeanor leaves you feeling uneasy. On top of that, you're still reeling at the fact that he could, no…can touch you.

In truth, you didn't know if you could stay here. Aside from the fact that there is a dead musician constantly traversing what was supposed to be your home, it's too dangerous to be in this house right now.

And your mama really was right about the loose beams. Every now and again, the house settles, and you nearly shit yourself at the idea of it collapsing. 

You texted her about it before falling asleep and she all but demanded you crash at hers until the house was stable.

With your eyes laser focused on the floor, you stammer out your plans before you can be reprimanded again.

"W-well, m'gonna head to the hardware store n' see about pricing to get the floors redone. Come back here, fix what I can until dinner, then get some clothes ready and-"

Elvis can't help how his ears perk up at the word' clothes.' Why would you come back for clothes? Were you going somewhere else? A girl like you shouldn't be out after dark. But his curiosity won't leave him be.

"Clothes for what sugar?" 

The question seems genuine to you like he really is just curious. Elvis knows that's only half of it. You are the only one in years that's come to Graceland and treated it like what it was, someone's home.

Maybe it's the lack of interaction or how you care so much for his home; either way, Elvis isn't all that pleased with the idea of you leaving. Even so, he awaits your answer.

"Oh, m'stayin' with mama for a while. Least till the house is structurally sound. She and I both think it's a little…hazardous." You explain.

When you don't hear a response back, a chuckle escapes you. How ironic. You stand from the chair and realize Elvis isn't even in the room. You shrug and head to the bathroom, a shower calling your name.

When you make your way out and begin to get ready, the lights flicker. Ha-ha, you think.

Once dressed for the day, you leave the room and descend the stairs, keys in hand, headed straight for the door. You turn to call out a quick goodbye to your impromptu roommate, but still no response.

You huff and turn back. When you do, the door isn't in front of you anymore. Instead, you're in the kitchen. Weird. You know for a fact that you walked straight to the door. You spin on your feet, itching to leave now.

This place makes you feel crazy. As you step forward, the scene in front of you rotates; the whole house just shifts before your eyes. Now, you stand in the front room. 

If you could, you'd pick your jaw up off the floor. After standing for a moment, the dash you make for the door should be a record. And yet, the door is pulled out of reach. What would typically be a ten-foot walk stretches into a hallway about a mile long.

 Were you on something? Not enough sleep? You don't remember taking anything. Instead of wasting your time getting to the end of this… new tunnel, you try the back door. As you shuffle through the house. 

You're meters away and think for just a second that you were just trippin'. When you pull it open, what you see makes your stomach somersault. It was just eleven-thirty, and your day had barely started, so why was it pitch-black outside? 

"What the fuck?" You say to no one in particular. Stepping out, you look around, absolutely baffled. You take a few steps backward, placing your hand behind you on the knob or where it should've been. Quizzically, you look behind you. The house was fucking gone. 

Nothing lies in front of you except the porch and what seems to be a perfect circle of trees. You're closed in, trapped, and you can do nothing about it.

"No—no, fucking way." Your breathing becomes rapid, and you can't help but wonder if your ghoulish friend has anything to do with this. You conclude that a regular ghost couldn't do something this extreme. 

At this point, you didn't know what to do. You felt defeated. Plopping down on the porch was the only option you had left. There is no way in hell you're taking your black ass into the surrounding woods. 

Your head finds a home in your hands, and frustration gets the best of you. Tears sting in your eyes, and a soft whimper leaves your lips. 

"I j-jus wanted to go see ab-bout the fucking carpet," you hiccup. 

"I told you how I felt about ladies swearin'." A deep, butter-smooth voice chimes.

You lift your head so quickly it could've flown off your shoulders. The front door is just past the man before you.

Sun is shining through the windows, and you aren't on the porch; you're on the stairs. Confusion doesn't begin to scratch the surface of what you're experiencing. 

Your mind couldn't have played a trick this bad on you. Something like that only happens in movies.

"Elvis? Where the—" You clear your throat and correct yourself when you notice the stern look on his face.

"Did you see any of what just happened?" 

The singer chuckles and squats down to eye level, "Course honey, gave me quite a laugh watchin' ya try and figure out this maze."

You tilt your head. Maze?

"What're you talkin' about El-"

He shakes his head, "Honey, don't you think if I coulda walked out that door I would've?" 

When he says this, you nearly vomit. You walk straight through his chest, prepared to rerun the same routine, but you pause for a moment.

"Elvis, you stay where I can see ya." You command. 

He shrugs his shoulders and does as you ask, "Didn't know ya liked lookin' at me. M'flattered."

You roll your eyes and move toward the door. Again, you end up in the kitchen. When you approach the entrance, the house does what it did before and spins on itself.

Elvis doesn't understand why you'd do this twice when once is enough to make someone nauseous. Tenacity has always been one of your best qualities though. 

When you head for the back door, Elvis rests a hand on your shoulder, spinning you around to face him.

"Baby, ya can't leave. Don't waste your time."

You scoff; he can't be serious. 

"Mama left, the movers left, so why can't I?"

Elvis purses his lips, irritated because you won't just drop it. 

"Honey, seriously. Just have a seat, we can-"

"No, I need to go. There's gotta be someway out, Elvis. I ain't stay-"

Elvis's hand meets the wall near your head, mood shifting. The anger ever-present in his eyes lets you know he means business. You fail to realize the sourer he gets, the worse the house's condition.

It's a peculiar thing to watch. The paint on the walls peels in time with the rise and fall of his chest; the lights flicker as his eyes dart across your face. As his face reddens, it gets a bit dimmer. 

“Y/n, last warnin’. Don't interrupt when m'speakin', darlin'."

His darkened orbs bore into yours, searching for defiance. When he is confident you'll keep quiet, his breathing begins to regulate, and he takes a step back, adjusting his shirt a bit.

"This house is structurally sound, and you will stay here tonight. For now, just relax."

The air is thick, making it hard to breathe, even harder to speak.

 "I can't do that Elvis. Look at what just happened…" You whisper, hoping the soft tone won't set him off again.

He almost deflates when he realizes shaking you up didn't do as much as he thought it would. Who gets put through something like that and decides to be difficult?

Y/n L/n, that's who.

 It was starting to bother him; you were clueless about his trickery and capabilities. You should be weeping at the fact that everything is back to normal, and yet here you are, still trying to leave.

He could always make it harder for you to get off the grounds. Keep the illusions going. It's never worked in his favor, though. Everyone dies running from him. Usually, Elvis couldn't give two shits. 

But he already met your daddy; your mama is sweet and kind. And you, well, in Elvis's eyes, the only woman besides his mama to love him without question.

It was the house you fell for, and you could preach it all day long up and down the streets if it made you happy. Elvis wouldn't buy it for half a second, though.

 Why else would you go through the trouble of ensuring everything was untouched? Why would you keep everything he liked? Why buy a dying house you can't afford, if not to save him? 

Elvis saw through your coverup, and in his mind, you love him, and you're staying.

"Honey, you're the first person to…" He sighs, thinking of a way to make you understand that you belong here with him. 

"Don't go away, y/n. I ain't seen anybody worth seein' in years. Jus' spend some time with me? Hm? It don't seem too likely you'll leave soon anyway."

You ponder for a moment. If Elvis is right, there is no leaving anytime soon. In which case, it couldn't hurt to have company.

"Altight. But, ya promise to help me figure this mess out later on?" You ask

Elvis chuckles, not because what you said was funny, but because you have no clue what you've gotten yourself into.

"Of course, Sugarpie.”

Taglist: @powerofelvis @prayerstopresley @re3kin

[dandylovesturtles]

The separated AU poll (@tmntseparatedaucompetition) featuring my AU "100 Feet and a World Away" along with "New Phone Who Dis" by @callmehere-iwillappear is TOMORROW. We're up against Life Mission: Empyrean Bloodbath so I fully expect us to lose lol BUT I did say last time if we tied with NPWD I'd give us the next part of the "April takes the boys' pictures" saga AND SO! here! is April taking Leo and Mikey's pictures!

Vote for us tomorrow (if you want to)! All of these AUs are absolutely incredible so whoever wins is fully deserving~ Regardless, I will try to finish the saga with Raph's picture + Splinter getting to see them as soon as I have time (though it may take a bit because I have... bitten off a bit more than I can chew lol, and I need to get some other things accomplished).

Anyway enough rambling HERE'S THE FIC:

~~~

"April!" calls Mikey the moment she walks in. He scurries across the plywood bridge from his rock to the edge of the pool and hops off the concrete separating wall, and hurries over, buzzing around her excitedly. "I'm so glad you're back!"

"Well I said I would be, didn't I?" April grins, fishing in her bag for the strawberries she's brought them. She gives two of them to Mikey, and watches as he shoves one in his mouth, smiling as he chews.

There's a splash and when she looks back, Leo is sitting on the containing wall, watching her like a hawk. She wishes she could hug Mikey, but she knows if she tried to so much as touch him, Leo would be on her in a second.

Something to work on, but not today.

"Let's get this over with," he says. "I got the info Donnie wanted."

"That's great! Good job, Leo!" she says. All she gets is a scowl in return, but she tries not to let it get to her. "But before we talk about that, there's something else I want to do." She pulls out her phone and waves it. "I'm gonna take your picture!"

"Whoa, really!?" asks Mikey, clearly excited, but before she can reply, Leo is inserting himself between them.

"No."

April has to take a breath to steady herself; she knows he doesn't want to hurt her, and she knows he's just a kid. But when he moves like that, stands over her and tenses his muscles and looks down over the top of his snout at her, she can sense how easy it would be for him to kill her, and her instincts tell her to run.

But April O'Neil doesn't run.

She exhales and speaks, voice steady. "Leo. I understand why you're concerned-"

"Do you?"

"-but I promise you, I'm not going to do anything bad with them. I just want to show them to your dad."

"Still saying you know our dad, huh?" he says, the suspicion clear.

"I do know your dad, Leo." She takes another deep breath and lets it out slowly. He has every right to be cautious, she reminds herself, even if this is eating into their time tonight. "Look, Donnie already let me take his picture. He trusts me not to do anything with it."

"Yeah, well Donnie-" Leo starts, but then he seems to remember Mikey is there, and drops it mid-sentence. Which is good, because April can handle Leo being a jerk to her, but if he started badmouthing his brother they would be having words. "I just... worry he hasn't thought it through," he fixes it to.

"But Dee's a genius, right?" says Mikey. "I bet he has. He probably has some way to make sure she can't do anything bad with the pictures!"

That's not true, or at least, April is pretty sure that's not true (she did give him the phone, though, so maybe...) but if believing that will help them be comfortable with this she won't correct them.

Leo hesitates again, and she can tell he's struggling with his doubt over Donnie's intentions and his self-held rule of trying to keep Mikey's opinion of his brothers positive. Apparently, the latter wins, because he sighs and folds his arms and says, "Fine. But you're only taking a picture of me."

"Awww, Leo, come on," whines Mikey, but Leo ignores him, staring April down.

April wants to argue, too, but she knows if she pushes, Leo will just refuse to have his own picture taken too, and they won't get anywhere. Furthermore, he has info Donnie needs - if he becomes completely uncooperative then she won't get that either.

Deciding to cut her losses, April sighs and nods. "Deal."

Mikey looks thoroughly unhappy, but Leo seems to untense just slightly at the agreement. "Okay. Let's get it over with, then."

He walks over to the wall where their scale and measuring devices are stationed and raises both of his arms the same way Donnie had. April bites back her second round of nausea tonight and shakes her head.

"Nope, not like that. We're gonna do something more natural."

It's easier in here without the fence to deal with. She considers for a moment, then nods at the pool and says, "Sit on the steps. I'll take your picture there."

"Ugh, fine." He moves to do what she says, flopping on the steps with an annoyed grunt. It's such a teenager thing of him to do that she almost laughs, but she quickly swallows it before he gets more annoyed with her.

"Great! Now... sit however you want to... yeah, that's fine," she says after he pulls up one knee and leans back on his arms. She pulls her phone up with the camera on, adjusts the framing, then says, "Fair warning, it's going to flash." He shrugs. "Now... do you want to smile?"

He thinks a second, and then he smiles - closed lips, no teeth, more of a wry smirk than a full smile. But the way he tilts his head as he does it is so natural.

She takes the photo. Then she gets in closer and takes another. Then she pulls them up to look them over.

Like with Donnie the lighting is dim, but Leo is still plenty visible, and April can't help but smile.

"Dang, Leo... I have to say, the camera loves you."

"Ooo, lemme see!" says Mikey, and April turns the phone so he can look. Immediately his eyes are sparkling as he leans in to see more clearly. "She's right. You look great, Leo!"

Leo is trying to look uninterested, but she sees through him in the way he approaches. She doesn't make him ask, just flips the phone screen his way so he can look, too.

He leans in, and she something appears in Leo's face that she hasn't seen since she's come to visit him. Something soft and vulnerable and wondering - something she's sure he'd never intentionally show her, but something in the photo has brought it out of him anyway.

"That's... me?" he says finally, like he doesn't believe it.

"That's you!" she says cheerfully, even as she's trying not to think about how sad that question is. Come to think of it, there are no mirrors in here, and any reflective surfaces would likely show them a distorted image - this might be the clearest way Leo's had to see himself in years. "Pretty handsome, right?"

Leo's eyes flicker up at her just a moment, then they go back to the picture. "Handsome..." he repeats, reaching up and running his finger over the markings on his face. Mikey is watching him, with an understanding in his eyes that seems way, way too old for a thirteen-year-old, and, not for the first time, April realizes he isn't as naïve as he acts.

Even though her time for the night is dwindling, April doesn't pull the phone back until Leo finally looks away. Almost immediately his expression is back to being as annoyed as ever, but she knows that's just a mask. One day she hopes he can take it off, but for now she lets him keep it.

"You said you took Donnie's picture, too," said Mikey. "Can we see?"

"Of course!" she says, and pulls up Donnie's selfies, picking her favorite to show them. "Here we go; I had to let him take these himself 'cause of the fence."

Mikey looks, his eyes going wide, and Leo comes to join him, something less open and more complicated in his expression.

"Look, Leo, he has the same color eyes as you!" says Mikey, pointing. "And a matching scar!"

Leo's fingertips brush over the scar on his face, but he doesn't comment on it. "We all have the same color eyes, Mikey."

"We do? Oh, oh, and look," he continues, barreling on without waiting for an answer, "he has purple markings on his arms! I think his snout's longer than ours, too."

"Yeah, guess so."

"And what's up with his shell? Why's it look like that?"

"He's a soft shell." Leo frowns. "You didn't remember that?"

Mikey blinks once, twice. "Uh, I think I did, actually. Uh, maybe." He's still staring at the photo, but April can see his eyes starting to get glassy. "I... maybe I knew that, but I never really thought about what it meant? I... I forgot what he looks like."

He sniffs, harsh, and then the tears start rolling. "Oh, baby," says April softly, while Leo just tucks Mikey under his arm.

"I forgot what my own brothers look like," Mikey says, his voice thick and wet. "I forgot... and if I forgot... I'm sorry."

"Nothin' to be sorry for," says April. She reaches out and puts a hand on his arm, glancing at Leo, but he doesn't do anything to stop her this time. Mikey hiccups at the touch but doesn't pull away. "What is it?"

"I just... did they forget what we look like, too?" He glances up at Leo, then sniffs again. "Will they even recognize us?"

April decides this isn't the time to bring up how it'd be hard to confuse them for anyone else, because, while true, it's not really the point. What she goes for instead is a different but still practical answer: she waves the phone at him.

"I'll show them the pictures, okay? So now they'll remember, too." She looks up at Leo again. "That okay with you, Leo?"

He jerks his head as he looks away from Mikey, and she can practically see the gears working while he comes to a decision. Much as April hates making Mikey cry, it seems it's worked in her favor.

Because Leo sighs, and says, "I guess if you're doing that you need to take a picture of Mikey, too."

Mikey's eyes go wide in surprise, before he sniffles loudly and then turns and jumps onto his brother, who holds onto him with a good-natured chuckle. "Thanks, Leo!" he says, his tears still trickling down his face, and Leo just sighs and pats his shell until he eventually stops.

April takes Mikey's picture, and he and Leo ooh and aah over it just as much as they had Leo's. She gets the information she needs, and gives a promise that she'll show the pictures to Donnie and Raph as soon as she can.

Raph... well, she's pretty sure he won't actually know what he's looking at. Honestly, April still isn't even sure if he can see.

But she knows Donnie is going to be ecstatic. She can't wait to show him.

[allfortzu]

the entire world, them

-- tzuyu / twice. 876 - fluff, gen - requested, hcs. MEN DNI

what would tzuyu do if her members forgot her birthday?

it's a strange feeling 

there was some disappointment when she didn't receive any wishes at 12, but that was more of an above-and-beyond hope rather than an expectation 

now it's 11 in the morning, and she still hasn't received a single one

it's a chest tightening sadness, the sort that tugs at her heartstrings and blanks her mind completely

of course, other people have remembered; casual friends, colleagues, even that old lady down the street who sells custard bungeoppang

but it's not the same when the people who actually matter don't say it 

not that everyone else didn't matter, but these were her favourite people

the ones she would drop the entire world for 

wouldn't they do the same for her? 

she tries not to make a big deal out of it, though 

it's just a birthday; they've been together for so long that even birthday wishes lose their significance, right? 

she doesn't register most of the day, really

every moment she has with them, there's a suffocating urge to ask: it's my birthday, aren't we celebrating?

and it shows, too

she's quieter, more sullen in her movements. doesn't even really want to spend the day with them anymore

but she's got a job to do, so it's less of a choice for her 

"tzu, you okay?" jeongyeon asks, sensing the change in tzuyu's demeanour

you know why i'm acting like this 

though, now that someone's actually noticed, she feels a little pathetic for being so obvious  

it's less that she thinks they've forgotten, because they would never forget, she's sure

but that would mean they've simply grown to stop caring about it 

so was it wrong that tzuyu still looked forward to it, then? 

was it weird that she looked forward to them showering her in their love all day 

that all their attention would be on her, they would hug her, kiss her, and everything would go as she wanted? 

tzuyu manages her most convincing smile. "i'm fine, just tired." 

the day is a blur

she finds that she doesn't enjoy her birthday that much 

if birthday wishes were real, she wishes wasn't the type who cared

holds back her tears because she's angry and she doesn't want to cry about something not worth her emotions

normally, they would have a birthday dinner together 

tzuyu thinks about treating herself, but even that only serves to remind her of the lack of an actual birthday dinner with her members 

she walks back to her apartment, and for once, can't wait for her birthday to be over 

but then it comes 

and it hits suddenly

she's startled for a second, eight girls in the doorway of her apartment 

"happy birthday!" 

pure, unadulterated joy

she doesn't know why she starts bursting out in tears 

"i thought you all forgot…" she sniffles, rubbing at her nose with the back of her palm, hiding her swollen face behind her hands

"hey, why are you crying!" nayeon panics, lifting the cake up to tzuyu's eyes. "happy birthday?!"

"oh, poor baby," sana coos, pouting herself. "when have we ever forgotten your birthday?" 

she's smothered in an overwhelming group hug, barely able to reciprocate from how much she's crying and the sheer force of it 

she hiccups through her words, the sentences coming out in incoherent mewls

no one can really understand, so they all pile on with their own version of an explanation

"we just wanted it to be a surprise," dahyun purses her lips, downturned

"it was jeongyeon's idea!" chaeyoung points accusingly.

"excuse me," jeongyeon scoffs. "it was a group effort, mind you!"

momo suddenly develops an acute interest in the ground

"personally, i thought it would be a bad idea," mina shrugs, holding her arms up in defense 

"ya! don't lie!" jihyo screams, smacking mina on the shoulder 

an uncontrollable laughter escapes from the base of tzuyu's throat, spilling over in between sobs 

"see! it wasn't that bad of an idea!" jeongyeon says. "she's happy… ish?”

looking at all of them, she finally notices the the little things throughout the day

how chaeyoung let her lay on her shoulder to rest 

how mina got her a cold drink from the cafeteria 

how nayeon paid for her lunch

how dahyun bought her desert after

how momo gave her a thumbs up when she got the choreography down right

how jihyo watched her closely through the mirror, more than she usually would 

and how sana would pat her gently on the head whenever they talked, tip toeing and grinning but never saying why

of course they cared

"i love you all," tzuyu mumbles under her breath, sheepish. "don't do this again, though." 

"ah,” nayeon hums, taking a step forward to pinch tzuyu's cheeks. “you really are the cutest.”

it sets off a ripple of coos and teases from the other members as well, and she's smothered in hugs and kisses once again 

by then, they've created a circle around tzuyu, right in the middle of her apartment 

a bubble from the rest of the world

a place for her to whine and complain about not receiving any birthday wishes 

a space for her to be the type that cares too much, unashamedly 

this is her world — what is there to drop?

[carica-ficus]

"Nona the Ninth"

14/07/2024

Reading progress: 274/477 (57%) Read through since last update: 158

Reading this book is such a joy. I keep surprising myself by how easy it is to read. I go through twenty pages without even realizing. it I missed reading such books. I missed being so immersed in a book. Man, it feels good! I decided to share some really CRAZY ideas in this post because my reading diary is meant as a brain dump. Don't take them too seriously. I just like thinking about all the possibilities. (I'm usually wrong, but it's fun to see by how much.)

So, notes:

I was so into these last two chapters that I didn't even remember to comment.

I love how Pyrrha calls Nona all these cutesy nicknames. And how sweet and gentle she is with her.

I audibly gasped when Palamedes needed to confess to Pyrrha that Cam sold her cigarettes. Literally 😮. Only for Pyrrha to take it as a champ. (She obviously took enough shit that day.)

So, blue dot in the sky. Earth or Uranus? Or Neptune? I'm guessing we're on some moon, but not sure which one. Considering they keep talking about how hot it is and that it's almost always day, they should be somewhere near the center of the solar system. Might as well be Venus considering how everything is VERY toxic and they need to wear gas masks outside. (Addition from future me: Bruh, I have no idea.)

Palamedes, my man. 🤝 This is a guy that knows what it's all about. (The nurse thing. I'm dating one, so yeah.)

Been thinking about Harrow and how she ruled on a dead planet and how John promised her new people when she succeeded with her task as a Lyctor. New people. New future. But where do all those bodies come from? So, my random thought of the day is that maybe she got promised some of the bodies transported in the Convoy? Speculating, speculating, I know. But I decided to write this down, so I can reflect on it later. (Future me: Still have no idea what the Convoy is for, but with everything happening, this idea really is a LONG SHOT.)

HAHAHAHAHHAA Palamedes calling Cam a hypocrite. Love it.

I keep forgetting to comment, and a lot's been happening. The "little" meeting Cam, Pyrrha, and Nona had with the Crown and the Comander was insightful, but difficult to follow. I got like? Half of it? But managed to understand the most important things - there's a craft in orbit and they have no idea what it is, there's some background for the first book and Cytherea's mission, then we see Judith and Crown realizes Cam is hiding Palamedes. Marvelous.

Millie? Lol, I'd be mad too. I have no idea why Palamedes didn't react. I certainly would.

Nona's the weapon. Cool. They're growing their own Lyctor. So, the body needs to be a necromancer that ingested the soul of a cavalier? Yeah, whatever, we'll see. My money's on The Body being Nona, but who even knows at this point. (Not me.)

But one thing I am excited for (after I finish Nona) is FINALLY going into the locked tomb tag without the fear of spoilers. Can't wait!

Fuck! That's true. Nona truly is Camilla's age. And Corona's. I keep imagining her younger because she is childlike, but I shouldn't. Granted, I think that's also the point of Muir writing her like that. Nona is constantly babied and talked down to because she doesn't understand the world as the rest of them do. She can't. At least not yet. Anyway, yeah, this sentence reminded me to adjust the way I imagine Nona. She definitely needs to be a little taller in my head. (Even though she is still shorter than Camilla.)

"Beef." 🙄

HAHAHAHAH crying again. Yeah, me too, John.

Yo. What the fuck.

Makes sense because Gideon has taken over Harrow's body, but still. Huh? (At least that's my guess. I don't know)

PYRRHA'S MISSING? NOOOO.

Oh yeah, ok. Are John and Harrow somewhere by the River like how Harrow's dreams were? Also, still guessing at this point, but I've been thinking about this ever since John's chapters started. (Primarily because their location is very surreal, very dreamlike.)

"I've carried you, Warden. And I've carried your memory... I'd rather carry you." AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Ok, so... If Hot Sauce didn't know Nona was a Lyctor, what was the secret Nona told her when they were lying next to each other at school?

Okay, wrapping off here because this post got a little long. I'll do my best to finish off this book quickly because I have a trip coming up next week and I won't have the time to read which will make me frustrated because I HAVE TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS. Anyway, I'm really, really loving Nona so far. It's very different and the pace was quite slow, but I love that about Muir's writing. Every book in this series has been a breath of fresh air, something so unique, but familiar at the same time. ❤

[rainbowcarousels]

11 - SephGen for the ship asks 🥹🖤

What their first impression was of each other?

You know, it's funny, I've definitely done first impressions from Angeal and Genesis's perspective but I'm not sure I ever have when it comes to Sephiroth.

I think Genesis's is multilayered because I think the very first time he heard Sephiroth - and I do think he heard him speak before he ever saw him, just a few words that were likely stumbled off script that he probably assumed was designed to be awkwardly charming until he realised Sephiroth is just the epitome of an awkward turtle - that he was in disbelief. It was a challenge to his own mind, like no way, this one person cannot be doing what they say, so when he finally got a chance to see news footage (I like to think it was on one of these old sets so colour distorted and grainy), obsession set in. Because his skill is undeniable. It's captivating to watch.

Then we run into the very real issue that Sephiroth is not what it says on the tin if you get up close. This is a post-First Soldier Sephiroth that has likely learned what can happen if you get attached to the people you work with: they die or they disappear, and the man is a poster child for abandonment issues. I think he's trying to keep his distance at that point and Genesis is perceptive, I think he can pick up on some of that and the mix of the two....well.

If we go by my personal canon for these two? Genesis got floored by his enhancements way more than Angeal did (there's something up with Genesis's DNA that isn't in the others so I think it stands to reason) so Angeal had already met Sephiroth by the time Genesis did. As such, I think he was already on the defensive, picked up on Sephiroth's vibe of trying to keep everything at an arms length and together with Sephiroth's awkward way of treating SOLDIERs in training at that point more like dogs or weapons (GEE I WONDER WHERE HE PICKED THAT UP), they did not mesh well.

As such, I think Genesis got upset - this wasn't the Sephiroth he built up in his head, this was someone detached, withdrawn, someone who did not recognise and foster such talent as he knew he had but rather just corrected it without a social word at all.

The kicker is I think Sephiroth actually did notice he was different - how many baby Third's come in with that kind of magical skill? How many SOLDIERs in general at that point have a specialty with magic? It's used in a utilitarian way and Genesis doesn't function that way at all and I think Sephiroth just doesn't - understand it? I think he's curious about it but he doesn't really know what to do about it. Has no idea Genesis is operating under the idea they're now mortal enemies fallen from the grace of potential friendship. Honestly, he's really only processing every other sentence - he doesn't know that he's ever known anyone who talks that much.

I think it's only on the third meeting, the ones where they're seeing each other on their first missions together, that they come to an understanding of each other. Genesis starts to process who Sephiroth actually is as opposed to who he thought he was, sorting him into categories of what is propaganda and what is actually him peeking through the presses clutches, and there are a couple of moments that I think highlight it for him that actually, this is the real him and he's actually far more interested in this version than any theatrics. If there's to be theatrics in a relationship, it's coming from him ta very much.

From Sephiroth's perspective, Genesis just makes absolutely no sense - he should not be that chatty, that much of a show off, that headstrong and independent and still be effective as a SOLDIER. He brings this effusive fancy to everything he does and it should be a hindrance but somehow, it's not. There is so much beneath the surface that Sephiroth has no real grasp of - he can't grasp his own nuances, let alone anyone elses - but he's curious, then fascinated. He's inefficient, but he's fast and distracting.

I HC that in fact he did manage to distract him long enough to result Genesis himself giving him a good yank out of the way in a fight because he just is trying to put it all together in his mind and he doesn't know how. How can someone be so wild yet so precise? So fast yet saunter about? So emotional and it not a crippling vulnability but somehow, a strength? WHAT IS THIS CREATURE.

It feels a little funny to me that what Genesis is eventually truly fascinated by is Sephiroth being more awkward teenager trying to figure out how to person - in other words, more mortal and human than he appears - while Sephiroth is trying to figure out how some teenager from a little southern village where they make apple juice is somehow fire and chaos incarnate and why he likes that so much.

[shmowder]

Whoa, you did amazing on your first run of P2! I made it through but like half the town died so I definitely enjoyed getting all the dialogue I missed the first time around. And just being able to spend a little more time appreciating the environment was nice, too.

You definitely make the first game sound interesting! And I would finally find out what everyone sees in Daniil 🤔

I also wanted to ask, do you have a favorite kid character? Sticky is mine.

Daniil, in the first game is... absolutely something. I love him, but god, I'm just in the first day of his route, and I can't stand his dialogue choices. He just keeps talking! he never stops. He has so much to say about everything and everyone at all times. He will fluff up the sentences with filler words and pleasantries.

Interacting with him as Artemy was fun because he was that silly dramatic guy from the Capital and you're only subjected to his theatrics once every two to four business days, plus the occasional letter he loves sending at the stroke of midnight, making you wonder if this is the time he inevitably went mad and is sharing the news with you as you open it.

BUT BEING DANIIL DANKOVSKY IS AN INSUFFERABLE EXPERIENCE.

I keep mansplaining everything to anyone who shows the slightest interest in me. Eva is flirting with me, and all I can do is abruptly change the conversation topic to be about death, very smooth Danill, I'm sure imagining her invetiable demise reeled her in.

...Am I describing myself? Is this what I'm doing right now?

Anyway, my favourite kid! My favourite child! this is gonna be a very long essay because I adore all the little rascals in Pathologic.

We're starting with Sticky <3

When I was playing P2, it was definitely Sticky. You mentioned him being your favourite!

With sticky, he is the first kid to actually give you a chance as Artemy. Sometimes, it feels like he adopted himself into your life and not the other way around. He just shows up and is immediately ride or die with you for life.

He steals for us! Breaks the law just to help us because he knows we are short on money! He doesn't have any medical knowledge but he tries his best to learn from watching you and the occasional questions.

He is endlessly curious and thirsty for knowledge. You can witness it each time you mention a medical term he doesn't know like serum or panacea, and he tries his best to understand what you're saying. Even if it doesn't make sense, he takes your words with blind trust. He wants to be just like you and it's so endearing.

I also adore how they gave him a personality that isn't just a docile student who agrees with everything you say.

No, Sticky will argue with you at times, insult you at others even. Especially his idle spoken dialogue where he keeps saying "How can people protect themselves from the infection? You're a doctor, you should know!"

It's the "You should know!" part that always gets me. He is upset that you don't know something! That's how much he secretly looks up to you and puts you on a pedestal. That when faced with the reality that you're not all-knowing and struggling to invent a cure, he's hurt and angry. Like you betrayed him by not being his superhero.

STICKY I'M SORRY MY SON I WILL DO BETTER I WILL GET 1000 COLLEGE DEGREES THAT WILL PUT THE BACHELOR TO SHAME PLEASE COME BACK!

His other idle spoken dialogue lines are also priceless. They tell a complete story on their own.

"I'll learn how to cure this plague myself. I'm a master of many skills!"

"I know the Lines, too. How else could I find my way around all the attics, and the cellars, and those twisty yards?"

He's trying to copy Artemy, to copy you the player and your effort to cure the plague. He's so small in this big world and can only effect so little in the grand scheme of the universe but he refuses to acknowledge that! He refuses that fate of being a helpless kid for you to save, he wants to be more and goddammit he will be more.

But he can't. He won't. At the end of the day, he is just a kid not matter how many tantrums he throws. He wants you to take him seriously and treat him with the same familiarity as other adults which is why insults you and jokes with you.

He wants Artemy to joke insult him too like he does with Stakh, he wants Artemy to confide in him and share theories like he does with Daniil.

HE WANTS HIS DAD TO BE PROUD OF HIM MY HEART CAN'T TAKE IT.

"You don't look so happy. Musta come from the hospital"

He notices your mood, he studied your reaction and knows your routine by heart. He can tell the difference between Artemy's upset face and his normal resting scary ripper face.

Sticky tries to sympathise. But he has never seen a hospital before in his life, all he knew about them was what he read in picture books as a toddler while learning the alphabet and someone put Hospital under the letter H.

The makeshift Theatre-turned-hosptial could never compare to a real one. I've spent time in hospital and my doctor brother told me about the absolute horrors of the emergency care and surgery sections. The many peoples of which will die in front of your own eyes and there is nothing you can do to save them.

All of his world view is extremely limited. Artemy is the lense in which he views the world with, in an attempt to decipher and understand it. You've became his teacher since the moment the first ever question slipped from his mouth and you answered it with sincerity.

"My path was called In Defiance. I almost tracked down that weird creature, but then I found a better goal. I'm going to become a real doctor. "

In the marble nest, when Artemy's dead, Sticky attempts to still follow his fate and seeks the Bachelor. He confesses his dream of still wanting to be a doctor but Daniil is dismissive and only directs him towards the academic path.

It's clearly not the same, it clearly eats up at Sticky to have his old mentor die in order, a second time, to invent a cure and now he can't mourn because he has to convince the only other doctor in town to take him under his wing.

Artemy allowed him a chance, took him seriously, looked past his lack of education and taught him the same way his own father used to teach him. Because Artemy genuinely relates and understands Sticky's situation, he grew up in this town.

Daniil who lives in the capital where every child is handed a bright future and guaranteed education could never relate to the kids of the town who grew up without a single school. He feels bad for them yes but he can't see Sticky as capable of anything besides staying out of trouble and letting the real doctors do their job.

Daniil lives in his concept of a utopia where children are always protected and never put in dangerous situations while capable adults handle everything. A world where he closes a grocery to not spread infection because that's what's right and necessary, without caring about how the families will feed themselves now.

Artemy lives in the grim reality of orphans trading bullets and razors just to get enough food to stay alive, of them risking getting infected just to acquire plague maps for him to purchase, in the world where he helped a kid steal from a store for his own sake because he knew he couldn't afford saying no in these dire circumstances.

Sticky does a lot of work behind the curtains. He keeps the lair clean and takes care of Murky. It's a shame we don't get to see him doing these things in-game, besides his model changing spots depending on the time of day.

This interaction happens on the third (or second?) day! The kid barely knows us, and he is already looking for our approval and doing chores around the house. I mentioned before how the Haruspex's lair floors are constantly wet-looking in a different post, and that detail is probably due to Sticky constantly moping the floors and keeping things tidy.

I wish Artemy was more gentle with him, I wish he spoke softer to him like he does with Murky. I know he treats her like that because she is younger and more gaurded but god Sticky deserves to be told good job too!

Sticky absolutely adores Murky. He makes her candy with melted sugar and tries to cheer her up. But he also tends to idolise Isidor a little too much. They end up in fights a lot because he always defends Isidor and his actions no matter what anyone says.

In p1, Sticky absolutely did not get along with any of the kids. Notkin invited him to join his gang, and Sticky refused, Khan wanted him to do a favour too, and Sticky declined. He doesn't play with other kids, he doesn't engage with them, and he is mostly alone.

It doesn't seem like that changed much in P2, sure the others don't mention him by name but also you don't ever see him wandering to the hubs the other kids are so fond of.

So for him to be kind and befriend Murky despite all the alienation he has suffered all his life from other kids, it really must have been a challenging step for him to take. He immediately accepts her as his sister and doesn't ask any questions.

In his free time, before becoming a student, he used to uncover mysteries and perform experiments detective conan style. Camping at the steppe at night to witness one of those clay vampire creatures despite no one believing him, attempting to get to the bottom of remours.

He's clearly very fascinated by the kin folktales and mystical creatures beyond just fantasy. What others dismissed as childish beliefs, he looked at with rationality and attempted to make sense of. The same burning curiosity reared its head when Artemy shared stories about the kin with him.

Even his idle dialogue shows his lingering fascination with the supernatural world, with the miracles of the kin. He doesn't fear them, he wants to witness them despite the consequences.

"The murderer is a steppe demon! A shabnak-adyg! I just know it!"

"A long neck and a fat body. And hooves for feet—so it's an Albino. And people say it wasn't the earth that made it!"

"Have you seen a pale, glimmering man walking around at night?"

Just imagine Artemy passing down all of the kin tales to Sticky, the ones his father used to tell him, the ones he learned from the herb brides, the ones Oyun used to whisper to him, the ones Aspity shared during their brief interactions.

Isidor's death greatly affected him. He never speaks about him or shows it, but the fear of abandonment has already taken root. It's apparent in the endgame dialogue when he's refusing any idea of you leaving, even ten years from now, when he is a full 20-something adult.

Just the mention of leaving has him terrfied and panicking, he doesn't want to experience the loss of another father so soon. He clings to you like gum throughout all of the game and doesn't leave your lair out of fear you won't be there when he comes back.

He sits in that broken chair and watches over Artemy as he sleeps, that kid needs a hug and reassurance so badly.

Suddenly, he has a sister to take care of, a father who loves him and is willing to teach him, a house with his own room, a future ahead as a Menkhu doctor. He has his dream coming true, and he won't survive having it taken from him.

The devs leave a lot of room for you to influence Artemy's choices and reactions throughout the game, even when it's just flavour plot texts and I love that. In my version of events, Artemy rejected all the proposals and job offers from Young Vlad, General Block, Yulia and the rest to be their assistants or travel with them.

Instead he remains home to be a Menkhu, watching over his town and helping whatever remains of the kin to survive. He accepts Lara's offer to help him take care of Sticky and Murky as co-parenting and friends. He raises both of them to be wonderful amazing adults who listen to their hearts and follow their own dreams.

Maybe add Aglaya survives and they have a long distance romance and the kids are intrigued by her terrifying aura-

ANYWAY.

Honourable mentions, Murky, Taya and Notkin.

Murky because of EVERYTHING SHE IS. I will surrender my own life to see her happy.

THIS MOMENT MADE ME CRY. ACTUALLY FUCKING FULL ON WEEP IRL.

Do you remember her words to us? to Artemy?

"What is there about you to love? Nothing. So I don't."

"I don't need you. Nuh-uh. Things were great without you. Great."

"Why did you come here? I don't need you. Nobody here needs you. We're not friends with her anymore, anyway."

"Why should I love you? I don't need to love you at all. I can stop loving you whenever I want."

She keeps repeating how she doesn't love us, how there is nothing to love, how she doesn't need you, she doesn't need anyone....She can stop loving us whenever she wants, she can stop if she wants to she is so sure of it...

And she knows she is lying the whole time.

She loved Artemy since the first moment she saw him.

Which was when he murdered those three people after getting off of the train. She saw a murderer, a ripper, and loved him as daughter loves her father.

Covered in blood in our worst, Murky looked at us and saw a gentle heart and a nurturing soul.

Sticky is scared of being abandoned again so he clings to us, Murky is scared of loving us so she clings to a lie. She wants a dad, she wants a brother, she only has her doll and a broken train car to call her own.

The only thing left from her parents, her lonely doll. And it was your father whom caused their death and orphaned her, what cruel fate to make her love you as a father.

The son of her parents killer.

Not a gradual love that we work for, No. She loved is since the single moment she saw us. How terrifying is that for a kid who has known no love or warmth in this life.

-

For Notkin, he always seemed like the most willing out of the bound kids to be your friend, not counting your own two adopted kids. By the end of the game, he asks to join the kin and says you're already one of his guys, you have a half soul too and it's massive and so cool.

He blatantly states how much he likes you, how much you've grown on him and stood by his gang's side through the game. He shares with you his dream of opening a warehouse in the future, describing something very similar to what Grief currently has minus the crime.

How poetic it is! Grief and Artemy being childhood friends only for Notkin aka mini-Grief version to end up liking grown Artemy too and wanting to be his friend.

Murky does remind of Lara now that we mention it. In one of the items descriptions, Artemy mentions how Lara knitted him the blue sweater that he's wearing ingame under the surgical grab and when he asked her why blue, she said because it's the colour of idiots and never knitted him anything again.

Murky and her are absolutely kind and selfless to a fault, both treating Artemy with apparent hostility and sharp words when in reality they care for him more than anything.

Notkin and Grief putting an air of being dangerous so Artemy wouldn't get any ideas, but eventually warming up to him and entrusting him with their sincere emotions in rare moments of vulnerability. Both are trying to be good leaders for people under their care, both appreciate his help in dire situations and give him back when they can. Grief is the first to hand you items to get you started ingame, and in Notkins warehouse, a kid gives you bread and milk, later they give you the first plague map for free.

In a way, it feels like Sticky adores Artemy in the same way Rubin must have idolised Isidor.

Jfwifjwkd Artemy straight up adopted the kids equivalent of his childhood friends that is so peotic.

-

Finally, there is Taya!

For her, I feel more of a personal connection rather than any bond she may have with Artemy. She reminds me of myself as a kid in a way. She looks spoiled but in reality she is very isolated and only have interacted with adults all her life who keep reminding her of her responsibility.

She wants to be a kid so desperately but she is forced to play the mother superior role. And despite all her lack of emotional development at that age, she does her best to sincerely play that role. To be wise and study the responsibility handed to her.

In P1, she mentions nonchalantly how her father, the previous leader of the kin, was killed by the kin in her place, he died to protect her from being killed. She mentions that if you choose to sacrifice big vlad in place of young vlad.

Saying how the father should always pay for the sins of his children.

Isidor died so Artemy may live

Her father died so she may be spared

Big Vlad died in place of his son getting killed.

Taya is very childish at times in a way that I wish she was allowed to express more. Just look at these scenes.

SHE JUST WANTS CHOCOLATE AND SWEETS, BUT HAS TO PLAY THE ROLE OF A HOLY LEADER TO A WHOLE COMMUNITY OF PEOPLE WITH CULTURE OLDER THAN THAN THE WORLD. SHE IS TRYING HER BEST OKAY.

God it's like she's holding the weight of the world on her shoulders but laughing and smiling despite of it as she dreams of strawberries.

STRAWBERRIES! THAT'S LITERALLY HER BIGGEST DREAM.

Ugh she is so tiny too! LOOK AT HER. You can put her in you pocket but she might get lost between the loose change!!

SHE IS 4 GRASS BLADES TALL!!! FOUR! SHE IS PROBABLY 5 APPLES TALL LIKE HELLO KITTY! SHE IS JUST A LITTLE GIRL AAAAAAAAA

LET ME ADOPT HER GAME!! LET ME HAVE HER LIVE IN ARTEMY'S HOUSE WITH STICKY AND MURKY AS HER OLDER SIBLINGS! PLEASE I NEED IT! BRING NOTKIN TOO!

The remaining kids, Capella, Khan, Grace and even Taya herself, don't seem that fond or attached to Artemy. Their fates cross a lot and some of them clearly saw Isidor as a father figure but it's never the same with Artemy.

Taya only cares for him as Menkhu, she is mother superior and he is one of her "children" like any other person from the kin.

Capella sees him as a business partner in a way, she asks for favours and promises to repay tenfolds when she becomes a mistress. Her goals and Artemy's allign so they are partners in planning.

Sometimes, I wonder if Artemy was supposed to be born much later. Because Capella describes a future where he is included with these kids when it comes to rebuilding the town. The fact his own mother died during childbirth makes me consider that theory a bit more, maybe his parents rushed into having a second kid when his older brother passed away which caused health problems to his mother.

So Artemy was supposed to be born much later alongside these kids and play his role in rebuilding the town. But it's just a theory.

A GAME THEOR-

-

Thank you so much for the praise about finishing the game! I want to lie and say it was effortless. But.It.Was.Not. 500 reloads. But I loved every minute, I would hate going to sleep because it meant I had to stop play and would open the game first thing after waking up. It was literally and addiction and I couldn't remember my own name and life event but I for sure had the list of items best to trade to which town npcs memorised.

I want to replay it after finishing it P1. It is fun but it can be boring at times which is why I'm moving at a slugs pace in Daniil's route. Part of me is also dreading finishing it since I will only have Clara's route to play by then....and its over like that.

Maybe by stalling, I'm hoping that P2 Bachelor's route will come out sooner.

I definitely enjoyed this conversation <3 I love talking and talking loves me, I have a million opinions on everything and so much to say about pathologic. If you ever get curious about a certain subject, character or concept, shoot me an ask since I will have so much fun writing out the essay.

I hope you had fun reading this! I try to sprinkle in jokes so it's not just a big dump of information but eh, I love mansplaining guilty as charged.

Take care anon! I hope your day is wonderful. Also wanna be called Sticky anon if you're going to be a frequent quest on here?

[funnuraba]

I feel like I need to be talking about the specific symptoms of ME/CFS, because I really, really wish I'd known what all my snowballing symptoms were pointing towards before I became 98% bedridden. So, here's the brain fog:

Starting in mid to late 2020 (I believe my Covid infection was in March; the only symptom was a mild sore throat that I worried about but then brushed off because no respiratory symptoms developed), I started having trouble finding words, and making spoonerisms where I'd never done so before. I nervously put this down to turning 30, but wondered if it had really started this early for the family members who had similar issues in their 50s.

Now, as a result of pushing myself through fatigue for three years, I have full-blown ME that's finally presenting unmistakably, with Post-Exertional Malaise: if I use too much energy, I pay for it the next day with flu-like symptoms, and more often than that with a mental crash. In these mental crashes (I also get them before it rains), I can't speak. I can't think in full sentences, and it's prohibitively difficult to think in words of more than one syllable. Even one-syllable words with complex sounds are too much sometimes. Something like "please let this end soon", which tries to pop up a lot, is impossible to finish because the "pl" diphthong takes too much effort to think and to form with my mouth. I was able to entertain myself through a few crashes by noting these things, to the limited extent that I could put anything into words.

There's also some unusual linguistics at work. I can't, for example, put a pause between syllables except with great effort, but I can replace a two-syllable word with two or even three monosyllabic ones! For example, I can't manage "always" no matter what I do. I have to turn it into "all time", which is the same number of syllables, but for some reason takes less energy. I can't put a long pause into "always" and get it out that way. An example sentence I have to settle for during a mental crash would be, "This hard. Me want think big all time."

During one of these crashes I was thinking of Flowers For Algernon, and all I could manage was "rat brain book". "Me cry at rat brain book when kid. Now look at me. Life is shit. Ha." (Even in that state I had to force out a few more sentences clarifying that the part I cried at wasn't him being disabled to begin with, but that he had to go back to being bullied with no way to defend himself or understand what was happening to him. Why did I need to make sure I knew this, within my own brain that already knows my own thoughts? This is a long-standing impulse of mine that doesn't make much sense.)

Now, I could mentally picture a book cover that had the words Flowers For Algernon on the cover. I could see the F and the A, and the articulation of the full title was just out of reach. But reaching out and "grabbing" it was physically painful. I had to give up, despite being aware that the knowledge was in my brain. By a strange coincidence, the very next day brought a post on the r/CFS subreddit by someone comparing their own situation to Flowers For Algernon. As much as I believe people with brain damage and intellectual disabilities should be treated with dignity and not like a tragedy for existing, the loss of myself as someone who's always prided myself on my facility with words is beyond my ability to describe. These crashes, which also bring extreme sensitivity to other people's touch or presence, to light and sound--all light, all sound, including your own breathing--are like experiencing your own death, over and over and over again. You don't know if or even when it'll stop, because some Very Severe people are stuck like this, and every crash is the one that could be permanent.

All of which goes to say, you have no idea how much energy it takes to even think. When your mitochondria physically can't recharge, every scrap of energy is used up on things like breathing, seeing, hearing, digesting food. Your conscious thoughts are one of the first things to fall by the wayside so your body can keep doing those. And for people at the most extreme end of ME, they can in fact lose the strength to even breathe.

[sincerity--extreme]

"Kids" cartoons I overanalyzed and came to the conclusion 1 or more of the characters are neurodivergent:

Bluey

Bluey has ADHD (and maybe even ASD)- She always speaks really fast and goes from one topic to another in seconds and to most people they have no correlation but those of us with ADHD can make the connection, and Bingo ASD- She has difficulty expressing herself, goes nonverbal when overwhelmed, gets upset over "little things" that to her are a big deal but to others seem like something simple and unimportant, and I've seen other traits but I can't remember right now (And another character I forgot the name that appears in some episodes have ADHD too)

Max & Ruby

Ruby has OCD- Needs everything to be in perfect order, overthinks the outcome of every situation, overanalyze everything that needs to be done in order to be sure her entire plan will work out perfectly from beginning to end and gets very anxious if it doesn't, and more I can't really remember now, and Max is autistic- Doesn't use verbal communication as much as other kids his age (that happens a lot in the first 2 or 3 seasons and then he starts to talk a little more), obsession with dinosaurs to the point he knows everything about them and only really care about that most days (meaning won't really talk about anything himself and won't really listen if someone else starts a conversation about something else), will space out if the conversation is not about one of his special interests...

Pocoyo

Pocoyo is autistic- He's very curious but rarely forms full sentences, communicates mostly by pointing or taking other characters somewhere or use whatever key word he finds fitting and gets frustrated if no one understands him, plays often by himself in his own way, gets very frustrated to the point of meltdowns when others don't understand how he wants something to be done in a game...

I know this one is not very popular in many countries, but in mine it was a hit a few years ago and today is still watched by a lot of kids, though not as much anymore, precisely because of how Pocoyo is and the lack of verbal communication between all the characters, the parents see that as something that might delay the children's speech development so they don't let them watch it at all if they know how the cartoon is, I don't have kids so I don't know if that's really a big deal or not, but it made me want to talk about it to see other people's opinions

There's definitely more, but these are the 3 I've been thinking about these past 2 days and was actually writing a list to see if my own thoughts made sense, feel free to add more if you know any other!