#put effort in and get little validation; put no effort in and everyone loses their minds

[the-travelling-witch]

𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐬

Riddle :: Wrath

A tiny spark is all it takes to ignite a fire that burns blindingly bright. If they won’t respect you and the rules on their own, you’ll just have to make them listen. After all, your wrath is justified, you are in the right here. It’s not you who is blinded, it’s everyone else who just can’t see.

Leona :: Sloth

Work smart not hard. Or don’t work at all; let someone else do the heavy lifting to get their hands dirty. And why not? After all, lazing around in the sun is what you deserve after being the brain behind this whole operation. There’s really no need to exert yourself when someone else can get it done too. Being awake, being asleep, what difference does it make? Why put in the effort when you will always be second best anyway?

Azul :: Greed

What’s so wrong with wanting it all? And who cares if you’ll ever find use for any of it, it’s more important that you could. Whether it’s money, knowledge or power, more is better and your desire to have more of it is valid. Avarice and success are two sides of the same coin and it’s golden gleam is oh so enticing.

Kalim :: Lust

Don’t think too hard about what pains you, just close your eyes and focus on what makes you happy. It’s so much easier than plaguing yourself with arduous topics such as betrayal and intrigues. It’s okay if the world is burning as long as it’s at your fingertips, so just indulge a little. Ignorance is bliss and bliss is what makes life fun, right?

Vil :: Gluttony

Never satisfied, never sated, you crave improvement the same way a starving man craves food and water. When you finally achieve something you have meticulously worked towards, there is no time to rest on your laurels, your eyes are already fixed on a new way to make yourself better, more beautiful, all in a never ending hunger for unreachable perfection. Would you be satisfied with being the fairest one of all?

Idia :: Envy

Sure, you’ve had some achievements in the fields you’re interested in but what else do you have going for yourself, nerd? This one remarkable trait aside, who’d be impressed by the rest of you? And it’s oh so easy too, to compare yourself with the people around you and the people you see online, only to find that you just don’t measure up. You’re envious of the people with normal lives, who get to choose what they want to do, who aren’t stuck and who easily fit in. Maybe you’re even envious of your past, where everything was still alright and within reach.

Malleus :: Pride

Being proud isn’t wrong, is it? Surely, everyone would feel that way if they were you. Just look at what you can effortlessly achieve, whereas others struggle so much with it. But you realise maybe too late that pride is often accompanied by solitude. After all, you don’t need anyone by your side, so why would anyone be willing to stand there? At the end of it all, you are too proud to lose to someone and too lonely to lose someone.

Yuu :: The Deadliest Sin

You know you’re doing it again. You just can't stop, can you? Sitting hunched over like an invertebrate when you really should know better. Have you eaten anything yet, drank enough water? Seen the sun, taken a walk and gotten enough sleep? I thought so. The time will come where you must answer for your sins, so don’t add to the tally.

© the-travelling-witch 2024 - do not repost, translate, copy or edit

if you like my content, reblogs, comments and asks are always much appreciated (also, yes, there will be second parts for the characters) ♡

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[juanarc-thethird]

Be My House Husband p3

At the Vale Summer Fair

Jaune is participating in a cooking competition. This year's theme is barbecue. So he brought along his famous pork ribs covered in a special siracha and barbecue sauce. Plus a few secret ingredients that are valid in the competition rules.

Jaune: *Shaking a little*

Coco: Nervous?

Jaune: Hm? Oh! Coco, I didn't expect to see you here.

Coco: And miss out on a chance to see you, hottie? Not even in dreams.

Normally Jaune would blush at this point and tell her to stop, but he doesn't say anything. Coco stares at him and she can see that he's distracted. His mind is elsewhere.

Coco: Jaune?

Jaune: Oh sorry! Yes?

Coco: Are you okay? *She asks concerned*

Jaune: Y-Yes, I'm totally fine.

Coco: Jaune....

She stares into Jaune's eyes and he sighs.

Jaune: This isn't my first time doing this, actually. I really put a lot of effort into my dish. But I don't think it's enough. I mean, look at the guy over there. He brought a whole pig, the guy over there brought three-meat sausages, and the guy over there…

At that moment Coco took his hand and he stops. He then looks at her and Coco starts talking.

Coco: Jaune, I've eaten your food and I can safely say that you are the best chef I know. There's no way you're going to lose this competition.

Jaune: But the others...

Coco: Forget about the others. In the end, what will decide the winner is not how complicated the dish was, but how tasty it is. So believe in yourself the same way I believe in you, okay?

Jaune stares at her for a few seconds, absorbing every word she said. That calmed him down a bit and with a smile he answers back.

Jaune: You're right, I have to trust in my abilities. Thanks Coco.

Coco: You're welcome, tiger. *She winks at him* Now where are the rest of your friends? I thought I'd run into your team or team RWBY by now.

Jaune: They couldn't come.

Coco: What? Why?

Jaune: They had plans, but that's okay.

Coco: If you say so. Oh! I think the judges are coming. Good luck!

She then gives him two thumbs up and walks away.

Jaune: *Looking at her walk away* Thank you.

The competition continued and after a couple of hours, the judges finally came to a decision. All the contestants are standing on the podium as they await the results. While spectators watch attentively from the stands.

The master of ceremonies together with the judges are in front of the podium. Two of them hold a trophy and a plaque while the other holds the envelope with the winner.

Master of ceremonies: Ladies and Gentlemen's. After a long discussion, the judges came to a decision.

Judge 1: *gives him the envelope*

Master of ceremonies: *He takes an envelope and starts to open it* This year's winner is… *He pulls out the paper and…* Jaune Arc!

Jaune: *Shock* What?

Coco: Heck Yeah!! That's my future husband! WOOHOO!!!

Jaune walks to the center of the podium and receives his first place plaque and trophy.

Judge 1: *Shakes his hand* Congratulations, young man.

The crowd applauds in excitement. People then approach him to congratulate him and talk a little more about his dish. It was a great day for him. As time went by the celebration began to die down and he stepped away from everyone to get some air. He finds an empty bench and sits down.

Jaune: *Sighs*

Coco: I told you you'd win.

Jaune turned to see Coco giving her famous smile. But this time she looked different, Jaune could see how the warm light of the festival made her skin shine like the sunset. Her eyes were so beautiful; dark brown like wood. And her hair, was her hair always looked this nice?

Coco: Hello~ Jaune are you there?

Jaune: *Blushing* Huh?! Oh! Sorry! I was thinking on something else.

Coco: Was it about me?~💕

Jaune: *Red* Huh?!!

Coco: Hahaha, I'm just messing with you. Can I sit beside you?

Jaune: *Looks away* S-Sure.

She sits beside him and looks at the starry sky.

Coco: Today the stars look beautiful, don't you think?

Jaune: *Looks at Coco* I... I think so

Coco: *Looks at him* So how do you plan to celebrate your victory?

Jaune: Um... well, I never thought about that.

Coco: That's what I thought, that's why I took the liberty of calling everyone to tell them about your victory and preparing a table for us at Imos Pizza, your favorite pizzeria. My treat.

Jaune: *Smiles* Thank you, Coco.

Coco: Don't even mention it. Now get up and let's eat.

She stands up but jaune grabs her hand.

Jaune: Wait

Coco: Hm?

Jaune: Before we go I just want to say that… Well… Thank you very much for your help.

Coco: It was nothing.

Jaune: It was something!

Coco was a little surprised by Jaune's raised voice. So she looks at him intently, paying attention to every word.

Jaune: I was so nervous about this competition and I thought my friends would be here to support me. But they couldn't come. But you came and not only helped me with my nerves, but you also trusted me. And that's why I… I…

Coco: *Nervous* (Is he... Is he about to....)

At that moment Coco's phone started ringing.

Coco: Sorry! *She immediately grabs her phone and puts it on silent* Sorry about that. You were saying…

Jaune: I... I want to thank you.

Coco: Just that?

Jaune: Y-Yes...

Coco: O-Ok, so should we go now?

Jaune: After you.

Coco: Ok

As she takes the lead while Jaune walks beside her, Jaune can't stop glancing at Coco and a crazy idea pops into his head.

Coco: By the way, Jaune. *She turns to look at him* What kind of pizza do you wan-!!!

At that moment Coco is kissed by Jaune on the lips. She freezes and a few seconds later Jaune realizes what he did.

Jaune: Sorry! I just wanted to kiss you on the cheek! I didn't mean to kiss you on the lips! Um…! I'll see you at the restaurant!

Jaune ran away, leaving Coco behind. Coco can't believe what just happened, and slowly a huge smile fills her face. Jaune just kissed her.

Coco: *giggling like a school girl* Jaune just kissed me. He freaking kiss me! Today is the best day of my life!!

[frvnkcastles]

hi I love your writing!! let the days pass has gotten me through a lot. If you’re still taking requests, would you think about doing something for a reader with functional depression? Like can make it through a full day of work/school, seems fine when out and about… but then once she’s home she can’t get herself to eat, or clean, or reply to her friends’ texts or get out of bed on the weekend. And Frank just kind of soothing/supporting her through it and getting her out of bed and finding fun things to do together so she can’t just stay stuck in her little depression apartment and her terrible thoughts. No worries of this doesn’t spark anything for you; thank you so much!!!!

BREATHE ME BACK TO LIFE ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: You’ve got a bad case of depression, and Frank does everything he can to help you through the difficult days.

Warnings: High-functioning depression, just a small nod towards suicide ideation, fluff, feminine nicknames

Word count: 2k

Author’s note: Thank you for the support!! I completely understand this struggle and it often makes me feel like a fraud and like my depression isn’t ”serious enough” and so many other people have it worse than me, but the reality is, everyone’s struggles are valid and no less important than someone else’s. Anon, I promise it can get better, don’t give up!! I know it can feel like an endless uphill for a long time, but hang onto the good days and know that you’ve got what it takes to get through the bad ones <3

When you first got to know Frank, you were careful about letting him in, simply because the effort of maintaining a relationship terrified you and you knew you wouldn’t be able to handle it. Not to mention, you were kind of embarrassed — revealing your struggle to keep up with chores and to take care of yourself hardly seemed like the way to sweep someone off of their feet. Then there was the fact that Frank seemed so put-together and diligent himself. He didn’t strike you as the type to judge other people, but you knew you couldn’t meet his military level of routine and tidiness, and it made you nervous to open up to him.

Little did you know, he knew depression all too well from personal experience. After losing his wife and kids, he had been shoved into a dark place and it had taken him a long time to dig himself out of there. He understood the lack of motivation to look after yourself or your home, and he, too, struggled with getting out of bed and staying in contact with people.

And that was exactly what he told you when you allowed him to get a glimpse of your reality.

”Hey, I feel ya, sweetheart. I’ve been there. It ain’t easy, that’s for fuckin’ sure, but you’re doin’ amazing”, he praised you, finding your perseverance admirable. ”It can be a real pain in the ass. I struggled for a long time, I won’t lie. Still do, some days. But it’s gotten better, even after I didn’t think it would”, he opened up, trying his very best to instill hope in you. It sort of worked, but it also made you feel guilty — if a man who had lost his entirely family could pull through, why were you having such a hard time? In fact, while you felt glad Frank hadn’t judged you for sharing with him, you felt even more embarrassed and like you were a burden, one he would regret getting involved with.

But he didn’t give up on you. He kept showing up for you, participating in your day as often as he could, whether that meant pushing you to watch a movie he heard so much about and thought you might like, or surprising you during work to take you out to lunch.

By weaving himself into your everyday life, he quickly realized your troubles with depression were more complex than he had initially realized. Whereas he had been completely devoid of energy and hope throughout the day and it had been obvious to everyone around him, you could mask it. He found it sort of impressive, actually, the way you managed to be efficient at work and the way you socialized, smiled and laughed on a night out. To an outsider, it wasn’t obvious that you were struggling, and while he felt fortunate to be in your inner circle, he also grew worried. He couldn’t imagine the toll it must have taken on you, to always put up a brave front and go about your day like nothing was going on.

So, he started visiting your apartment more.

”Have you eaten yet, sweetheart?” he probed gently while collecting various garbage from around the place, shoving it into a trash bag. You were grateful, but you were also entirely drained, the effort of the day catching up to you and leaving you paralyzed on the couch, buried under the heavy blanket.

”No. Didn’t feel like it”, you shrugged, much too casual about it for Frank’s liking. He finished filling up the bag and left it by your front door, making a mental note to take it with him before he stepped into the living room where you were. He crouched down in front of you, gingerly swiping your hair away from your face and eyeing you up with a mix of sympathy and worry. He knew it could be hard to accept help — he certainly had done a good job of pushing Curtis away, but he was determined to give you a hand, whether you liked it or not.

”I make a mean pasta. Would ya eat a lil bit f’me if I made you some?” he asked softly, his voice so patient and calm with you, and if you only had the energy for it, you probably would have teared up. You felt bad just watching Frank do all these things for you, but you suspected, correctly, that even if you told him to stop, he wouldn’t have.

”Sure”, you gave him a weak attempt at a smile. He mirrored it back at you, and leaned in to kiss your forehead before standing up and striding into the kitchen.

He rummaged through your cabinets and fridge, finding what he needed but not exactly pleased with the lack of food. ”I’mma take you grocery shoppin’ tomorrow, aight? We’ll get whatever you need, on me”, he called out from the kitchen, not really offering it as an option but a simple fact. He did that a lot, made promises that to him seemed obvious and like the bare minimum but that meant the world to you.

He made a habit of stopping by on weekends, especially. He knew those were the hardest for you — during weekdays, you had work to keep you busy and distracted, but during the weekend, you sank deep into your dark thoughts. He tried his best to be a lifeline, to keep you afloat, just because he knew what it was like to get stuck in that vicious cycle of hateful, ruminating thoughts and that gloomy mood that didn’t seem to loosen its grip. And he certainly didn’t want that for you.

”Hey, darlin’. How you feelin’ today?” he asked as he made his way into your bedroom on another Saturday, his gaze gentle and caring even when you felt like you looked horrible. You had meant to change your sheets and your PJs for the longest time, and your hair was unkempt in a way that made you feel insecure. But Frank was not bothered, at least not in the manner you expected him to. It unsettled him because he wanted to see you happy and thriving, but he wasn’t scared of a little mess.

You gave him a shrug from the midst of the covers where you had been mindlessly scrolling your phone, only for the damn device to make you feel horrible guilt about all the unanswered texts that seemed to keep piling on. Frank nodded in understanding and sat on the edge of the bed, next to your legs, and he thought about the right way to get you out of that hole. He knew he could be pushy sometimes, but it originated from a place of love, and most times, you responded well. Coddling wasn’t going to help, he knew that, so sometimes he took a firmer approach, but the affection never left his tone or eyes.

”C’mere, sweetheart. Thought I’d take you out for a walk. That okay?” he suggested, and as much as you wanted to agree to his idea, you didn’t think you had it in you.

”I dunno, Frankie…”, you trailed off, and reaching for your hand to squeeze it tightly, he gave you a look that in its simplicity had the power of convincing you.

”I know, sweet girl. But I really want you to get some fresh air with me, yeah? Just around the block, don’t gotta be out for long”, he pleaded, ”I know what you’re thinkin’ in here and I don’t want to lose ya to it.”

You couldn’t argue on that. You knew you weren’t doing yourself any favors, and your thoughts tended to tip over to self-deprecating and hopeless, surrounding you in darkness that only Frank could bring light into. So, you nodded at him, and he gave you an attagirl before winding an arm around you and helping you out of the bed, well-aware that even if you wanted to go, you couldn’t always get your body on board.

He brushed your hair with as much care as possible, enjoying the process more than he wanted to admit, and after that he dug out the hoodie he had left behind a few weeks ago and zipped you up in it. He tied your shoes and made sure you had your keys with you, and after he had taken care of almost everything for you, you were finally ready to go.

The sun was already going down when you stepped outside, and the sight got a faint smile from you, which in turn made Frank grin. ”Pretty, huh?” he noted while taking your hand and interlocking your fingers. He acted so much like a boyfriend even if you had never actually labelled your relationship in any way. It made you wonder, because he took such good care of you and he didn’t really even get anything out of it. It was an equation you simply didn’t understand.

You walked for a while, but finally, you had to ask. ”Why do you keep showing up?” you questioned, not meaning it to come out so accusatory, but Frank was immediately alerted to the thought of crossing a boundary. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, he just wanted to help.

”You want me to stop? All you gotta do is say the word”, he promised, and you hastily shook your head to reassure that that wasn’t what you wanted.

”No, I like it. I just… don’t really get why you do it. I can’t repay the favor. I’m not getting any better. So, it just seems like you’re running a fool’s errand, I guess”, you explained, and licking his lips, he gave it some thought. But really, there was no doubt about why he did it.

”You’re important to me, sweetheart. And like I’ve told you, I’ve been there. I know it gets lonely and brutal and I just don’t want ya doing it by yourself”, he answered, and quickly continued, ”and the part about you not bein’ able to repay the favor, bullshit. You do it every time you give me a smile or give me a call or agree to my stupid ass ideas to get you outta the house. I know it may be hard to see, but you got a lotta good moments and I feel damn privileged to get to see them.”

You were speechless, looking at Frank with wide eyes as you kept walking. His stare was focused on your surroundings, hyper-aware of every car that passed you by and every pedestrian with their hood pulled over their eyes too suspiciously. Whether you were in your apartment or out and about, he just wanted to look after you.

”Aren’t I kind of a burden?” you stated what felt like the obvious, and your words got him to instantly face you, a frown etched onto his forehead.

”Never. I ain’t ever gettin’ sick of you”, he swore, stopping you just so he could look into your eyes with solemnity and determination. ”I know you think you’re not gettin’ better, but you will. I’m not lettin’ you give up. Some day, you won’t need my help anymore, but until then, I ain’t goin’ nowhere”, Frank emphasized, dedicated to showing you his loyalty and confidence in you. He had so much hope for you, way more than you had yourself, but he didn’t mind carrying you.

”Thank you”, you whispered, hugging him with a tight grip, and he responded with his own arms curling around your figure. He shielded you from the dark cloud over your head, hoping that his embrace would offer the comfort he so badly tried to be for you.

”Just so you know, when that day comes when I won’t need your help… I’ll still want you around”, you pointed out, and chuckling, Frank kissed the top of your head.

”Well, I didn’t wanna be a selfish asshole, but I was hopin’ you’d feel that way”, he admitted. He may not have been very good at speaking up about it, but you had completely stolen his heart, and he wasn’t sure he was ever getting it back. ”You mean a lot to me, sweetheart”, he added quietly, and holding onto him a bit tighter, you sighed.

”You mean a lot to me too, Frank.”

[sacred-coffin]

Rubbing my grubby little hands together. It's time to bipolar Terzo.

And, one thing for the record, I'm bipolar! So I know what I'm talking about and I'm projecting a little and that's valid

I tried to rewrite my bullet points from my google doc to sound... nicer and more professional, but it didn't feel right. So y'all are getting the raw unfiltered version from when I infodumped about this in a discord chat, hope you like it :)

ONE . He has big overarching aspirations, but also mad depressive episodes. These get in the way of him completing his goals and also make things fuzzy along the way.

He's got this big city, big social change, all of these huge goals and life paths he wants to follow. And there are times where he's really set and driven on working on it! Especially when people are egging him on, like when he was a cardinal. I imagine he had a lot of sustained manic or hypomanic episodes while he was a cardinal.

Being very dead set on a goal, possibly losing sleep over it, putting all of your time and effort on it...Also however you want to interpret the cream pies comment (sexual or food) it both lines up with something a manic person would do. SO.

I think once he's in the ministry again / papa his depressive episodes started getting harder & his manic episodes more. Erratic.

He had less people pushing & supporting him towards his goals / what he was really passionate about, so he was just . Really bitter and pulled away from people. You see a lot more of his irritable and generally temperamental side come out during this time bc like. When he has manic episodes he has so much energy to use up but nowhere for it to go! Sometimes being really angry with something can trigger a manic episode, and I think he might be prone to doing things really excessive/extreme all of a sudden to spite people. If that makes sense. Like the decision to ditch the papa robes, things like that.

Also iirc, when he was a cardinal he was really over indulgent. That is very common for manic episodes; it's very common to  develop substance abuse issues as well. I think he could be a borderline alcoholic, but he's pretty good at hiding it. Definitely better at hiding it than when he was younger, but the habit is worse when he's older

I kinda wanna talk about Terzo possibly being like, a pretty angry person. And this is definitely projection LMAO. He very much presents himself as a guy who probably doesn't have angry outbursts and such, but I think that. Well. If he's bipolar that is NOT true ok. When I thought about this the first time I was like "would he punch walls? No. His mom raised him better than that. But God does he want to break stuff"

I feel like part of his reclusiveness is to keep up this image he has to everyone-- you can't judge him or form an opinion of him in his off time if you don't see it. So you don't see him getting drunk, you don't see him being depressed, you don't see him getting mad, but god it is happening all the time

I just feel like, like, you could argue he has this sudden shift in personality at a certain point. Or maybe at multiple points. In regards to how he felt about his goals at least. Esp bc I resonate so hard with the thought that he didn't want to be the machine-man (from Metropolis, 1927), but he had to, and I feel like being bipolar explains that so so well. Facing adversity he'd get so pissed about it, but he would only let that stop him for a little bit. But he'd also wouldn't be able to make the kind of progress he did before (like drawing up blueprints or plans) because he doesn't have that same well of outside energy & support to tap into

God also. He is so delusional. He is so so so delusional.

I think being Papa ruined his mind .

No offense but like. His goals are impossible. He's chasing them so hard anyways. He's insane. Like. Like.

I don't know I can only compare this in my mind rn to my mom looking at me when I was like, 5 years old or something and telling me she was going to become an archeologist and move to Egypt. Like she was so so sure of herself that it was going to happen. Obviously it fuckin didn't,

Also also. I feel like he's not diagnosed bc I feel like it's more likely to be missed in men. Also I want to give him migraines even though it's less common in men but slightly more common with people who are bipolar and also bc it is GENUINE projection but I think the idea of Omega walking in and seeing Terzo hidden in a bundle of blankets with all the lights off like "is this a depression cocoon or a migraine cocoon" and Terzo just kinda shifts the blanket around and you see him wearing this funny as fuck eye mask. And Omega is like "migraine cocoon, got it" and just fucking leaves

Did he shave his head once and regret it? Yes. Did he get addicted to cocaine? Probably. Did he spend all of his money on model city pieces? At least twice.

I think in the end it's entirely possible he bought into everyone's ideas that maybe he is the one who should be worshiped

I feel like a lot of manic episodes & things can be so warped by the people you surround yourself with and like. Idk. Being the face of a devil worshiping cult can give a normal guy a God complex.

But a guy who's already prone to delusion and God complex??? Oh honey he's FUCKED.

[lilac-gold]

hero & mari's friendship has so many more layers than people typically consider, and it's genuinely so painful to think about.

to begin, they're both people pleasers, determined to impress everyone and act as role models to the younger kids. they settle for nothing less than perfection, mari practicing her piano for countless hours on end, hero earning solely first place awards. they both feel the pressure of everyone's expectations, of knowing that they're obligated to go above and beyond, to do more and more to impress. but nothing is ever enough, not when those expectations just get higher and higher the more they strive to meet them, so it builds up to the point where they can only feel satisfied achieving flawlessness. but flawlessness isn't possible, not when there's always something else to criticise, something that could have been better. they're both placed on pedestals because that's where they want to be, they need to be. they take it upon themselves to be perfect, so perfect is how they appear.

mari is gentle, caring, funny, wise. she offers bountiless good advice at only the cost of your love-- because she needs love, needs the validation that she's doing well or else her efforts will have all been for nothing. she's the perfect older sister, looking out for her little brother and protecting him where necessary. she's the perfect musician, dedicated and quick-fingered, composing masterpieces at the age of fifteen. she's the perfect student, spending hours after school studying to ensure that she does the best she can in her exams.

hero is compassionate, talented, charming, helpful. he offers assistance to anyone, all they have to do is ask-- because he can't say no, not when that would be letting people down. he's the perfect older brother, joking around with kel, setting a good example, keeping him out of trouble. he's the perfect hobbyist, taking an interest in cooking, each meal as good as the last as he puts his all into making them delicious. he's the perfect student, incredibly hard-working and doing his parents proud.

in the real world, hero and mari don't seem to have many friends. they spend all of their time in the group of six. they feature in the vast majority of the photo album's photos, and are often implied to be together in the scenes neither of them feature in. hero isn't particularly close to anyone when he returns to faraway, not seeking out anybody his own age to catch up with. when mari dies, it's sunny, kel, aubrey, basil and hero who are affected deeply.

but they have each other. they talk together, have fun together, work hard together. they understand each other in a way no-one else does, because they're in the same position.

hero isn't just "mari's malewife". mari isn't just "hero's girlfriend". their relationship goes so much deeper than just an implied romantic connection, because in the whole world, these two lean on each other the most. they're both older siblings. they're both straight a students. they're both masters at what they love. they're both the pride and joy of their parents. they're the same in so many ways, and that means they can trust each other.

hero and mari grow up together, and they grow up always trying to impress people. always avoiding disappointing them. they bottle everything up and hide it under warm smiles because they have to be perfect. they can't be anything less, or else they risk losing the images they've worked so hard to build, the images they can't afford to lose. not now, not ever.

they can't tell anyone about their struggles. about how hard a perpetual state of perfection is to preserve. about the crushing weight of expectations that never leaves their shoulders. about the endless responsibilities seizing hold of them in a vice grip, and their own steadfast refusal to burden anyone with their "problems". they're not supposed to have problems. they're supposed to be perfect.

they can't tell anyone, except for each other.

so that's who they go to. they each know the other inside out, know every intricacy and detail of their trains of thought, because their minds work in the same way. they're able to connect, to provide those pillars of support they can't get anywhere else, because they've always been a shoulder for someone else to lean on with no wall behind them to catch any falls caused by the weight.

they listen to each other. there's no judgement, no fear of disappointment. only the burning need to let out the fears plaguing their minds, to be allowed to feel bad, to have someone that won't be disappointed or shocked about their problems. they're teenagers with what feels like the weight of the world atop them, but together, they're able to share the burden.

looking at the other is like staring into a half-faded reflection, because hero and mari are both broken mirrors showing only the images people want to see. the cracks are hidden by their light, any imperfections masked and obscured by the awe brought forth via their achievements. but hero sees mari's silently shattered shards, and mari sees hero's. and they're always, always there for each other to slowly start mending the cracks.

and then mari "kills herself". and hero's left alone.

there's always been an unspoken vow between them, a promise that they'd support each other no matter what. that they could trust each other with anything. and hero stares up at a limp, lifeless corpse, and he doesn't know why mari couldn't trust him with this.

the worst part is, he knew there could have been signs, because he knows mari's endless cheerfulness isn't all genuine. he knows she gets irritable when she doesn't achieve flawlessness. he knows she won't let anyone else see her cry. he knows she's been battling the voices inside of her head for ages now.

but it's only in the months succeeding her death that he truly knows what depression feels like. for a while, there's only his suffocating devastation and grief, only the world-shattering fact that his best friend, his confidant, his pillar, is gone forever. and without her, he crumbles.

he goes to her funeral, and sees a never-ending array of black umbrellas on a cold, wet, miserable day. he holds no umbrella of his own. the water trickles into the unfeeling fabric of his black suit, sends shivers down his spine that should have forced him to react, plasters unbrushed hair to his forehead, mingles with the salty tears spilling down his cheeks. the sun shined brighter when she was here, and now that she's gone, he can only let the chill of the rain seep into his skin.

he returns home, and crawls into bed, into the empty embrace of heavy blankets and a darkness he wishes would consume him, and spends hours upon hours upon hours simply sobbing into his pillow. it seems impossible that she's gone. that the only person he could count on, the only person who understood him, the person he'd vowed to face the world with, the person he's relied on so heavily, is gone. gone forever. gone of her own volition, because she could see no reason to keep living.

hero wasn't reason enough. he wasn't good enough. he's tried so hard for so long not to let anyone down, but it's clear to him now that he's failed her. and that's his breaking point, when the half-sealed cracks all burst back apart. there's no point in trying anymore. there's no way to win. he can't fathom keeping up the picture of perfection without her.

mari wasn't the perfect older sister. she snapped at sunny when he got distracted during practice, brushed off aubrey when the girl offered to help out with the recital, spent her days too preoccupied to offer advice. she wasn't the perfect musician. she couldn't bear the thought of hitting even one wrong note, obsessing over the cursed piece she'd created even as it continuously refused to meet her sky-high standards. she wasn't the perfect student. she didn't even live beyond the start of freshman year.

hero's no longer the perfect older brother. he doesn't respond when kel tries to reach out to him, any words buried under the dirt covering a grave he slowly digs for himself over the next year. he's not the perfect hobbyist. he can't bring himself to so much as think of indulging in his passions, believes that he doesn't deserve to have nice things and no longer finds that spark of joy appear at the prospect of cooking. he's not the perfect student. he doesn't go to school over the next year, completely sectioned off from everyone else as he rots out of sight of the sun.

mari was gentle, caring, funny, wise. mari was stubborn, secretive, secluded, sensitive.

hero was compassionate, talented, charming, helpful. hero was silent, selfish, subordinate, spineless.

hero is all alone. mari is dead dead dead dead dead.

he finds himself following in her footsteps, and holds it all in. really, what else can he do? his only confidant is gone. he refuses to face a world without mari in it. he shouts at the one person who still sees him as someone to admire. he breaks down time and time and time again, a constant disappointment.

but he's seen how mari's death has affected his little brother. he knows how his own would, too. and he can't do that to kel. that would extinguish the one bit of light he has left. the sun may have shined brighter when mari was here, but with kel, some of its glow still remains.

so he gets up. he learns to try again. and this time, he does it all alone.

he reconnects with kel, as false as his efforts feel to himself. he tries not to think of how much better mari was at this, how much easier it had been to put on a grin with her in his life. he watches out for kel, notices when his smiles flicker just a little too much and offers to take him to gino's. perfect older sibling.

he takes up every extracurricular he can find, and brings home trophy upon trophy in each to demonstrate his capabilities. he works hard and learns fast, and is handed shiny plaques of silver and gold that indicate his mastery of skills he can't bring himself to truly enjoy. perfect hobbyist.

he makes up for the year of school he's missed by dedicating hours upon hours to studying. he passes with honours and goes to one of the best colleges he can find. he takes the course he's expected to, and pretends the sight of blood doesn't sicken him to his core. perfect student.

he upholds mari's legacy. he does everyone proud. it's a hollow sentiment.

throughout it all, he doesn't visit mari's grave once. he doesn't so much as mention her name, despite her haunting his every waking and sleeping thought. he misses her more than words can say, but he can't handle looking back on their memories. he claims he's doing just fine without her. he's a liar.

hero's always had a tendency to bottle things up, but after her death, that gets infinitely worse. he doesn't risk getting close to anyone, lest he fail them too. he closes himself off. people like him, people know him, but he doesn't have friends. not really. he's always been a little disliked, a little ostracised, a little different. he cares so much about how others perceive him, but the one group he's never managed to win over is those he was expected to be closest to. that was where both he and mari had struggled.

at least before, they'd had each other. now, hero makes it through the dull, monotonous cycle of his life by himself. he finishes high school, but moves onto college. he leaves behind faraway, but brings a huge piece of it with him. he tries to manage. he keeps it all hidden in neat little rows, fragile bottles on slanting shelves he does his very best to balance. he teeters precariously on the edge of a breakdown with every step he takes, but doesn't let anyone take notice. he wraps it all up under charming smiles and silken words. without the sun to guide him, he fades into the shadows as easily as he breathes. he's just another student, nothing particularly special about him, and while it's different and strange, it's in plenty of ways relieving. average people don't let anyone down. now it's only his parents he still has to impress. he pretends to be happy, and ignores the ghost he seems to be following every footstep of.

hero's alone, but it's better that way. mari died because he wasn't good enough to save her. he won't let anyone else down. never again.

he hopes mari would be proud of him. (he knows she'd hate what he's become.)

i feel like these two are often dismissed due to the lack of focus on their arcs and characters in canon, but there's so, so much about them to unpick that's lying in the subtext. hero and mari are such tragic, interesting, complicated characters, and it's sad to see them be brushed aside. no matter how you see their dynamic, there's so much to explore surrounding them, both separately and as a pair, and i'd love to see more people discussing just how brilliantly complex they really are.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Hi Fen!!! Popping in to ask what you think the moon boys’ hobbies would be (if they weren’t so busy moon knighting). (For Steven, I feel like studying ancient Egypt is more like a passion, so like what else do you think he’d be into?)

K. Love you! Byeeeee.

IDJIDHVDHFH Oh my gosh, I love this ask so much! Thank you so, so, SO much for sending it! ❤️(ILY!) Did I think about this at work for a good 1 and 30 mins instead of working on a spreadsheet? No, of course not, I would never do that… 👀

I have narrowed it down to one each to save everyone from seeing my absolute madness.

Moon Knight Boys Headcanons & Hobbies

Rating: PG  Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?

Warnings: Swearing

Steven: Cooking

Okay, here me out. So, I’ve seen opposite ends of opinion on this one (both are valid) but I’m going with Steven is a very good cook, and he likes cooking. 

He’s been vegan for a while and it’s only in the last couple of years that food places have really been trying with vegan and vegetarian options that aren’t salad… bread… (chips if you’re lucky) So, I think he enjoys making lots of different recipes. 

It started out with him just making vegan ones and then, over time, became him changing other recipes to make them vegan and coming up with his own. 

Absolute master at vegan cakes, no one can ever tell the difference, and, in fact, a lot of people compliment him on ‘the best cake they’ve ever had’, ‘so light and fluffy? How do you do it?’ “Well, that’s the secret, innit?” (whisk the aquafaba like your life depends on it and sweet potato) 

Steven is absolutely horrified by the food Marc makes himself. (Plain chicken, rice, spinach) 

“Where are the flavours Marc? At least some herbs? Spices for fuck’s sake? I can’t believe you’re eating plain steamed chicken?” (He doesn’t even care that it’s meat, it's just the lack of flavour.)

“It’s boiled chicken actually.”

Steven loses his goddamn mind. 

“I don’t care what bloody macronutrient you are monitoring, you are not eating that.”

It’s not that Marc can’t cook, he just doesn’t see the reason to put the effort in when it’s just for himself (doesn’t feel like he deserves it.)

Steven grumbles to himself and refuses to let Marc cook his own dinner if he can help it. “If you’re going to eat meat, at least treat it with respect, yeah? Bring out the flavour?” He usually preps something for Marc, so he can cook it quickly when he’s hungry. 

Makes so many cakes and pastries for Jake. Leaves them in boxes with ‘Jake :)’ written on a post stick note on the top. Jake is always so touched and surprised when he does. They have taken to playing a little game where sometimes the food is vegan and sometimes it’s not and Jake has to guess. He’s more accurate than most people, but it still only averages around 70% right. (69% if we’re being exact, and Marc is sure Jake’s messing with the correct statistics on purpose.)

Marc: Fantasy Baseball and Fantasy Football

Literally takes it so seriously. Has spreadsheets filled with information and pours over every single statistic like it holds the answers to the universe. It only got more intense when he found a forum for people with the same interest and he literally will spend hours talking online about it.

“It’s not about getting the best players, it’s about making the best team.”

Jake has joked that he puts Steven and his love for history to shame and if those spreadsheets weren’t saved on the computer Marc would have boxes and boxes and folders upon folders of printed out info and then there would be zero space in the flat. 

When Marc annoys Steven, Steven tells him to “go play with your pretend american cricket and american rugby” to piss him off. 

(Marc retaliates by incorrectly pronouncing UK places. 

“Steven, maybe we should take a trip to Ed-in-b-row” 

“It’s Ed-in-bruh.” 

“How about Sus-SEX or Es-SEX?” 

“It’s Sus-SIX and Es-SIX.” 

“I do love Green-WITCH at this time of year.” 

“IT’S GREN-ITCH! Jake, you're from New York, how is Greenwich pronounced?” 

“I’m not getting involved.” 

“Ha! That’s because he agrees with me!”

When things get really heated, Marc threatens to make a cup of tea in the microwave. Steven says he doesn’t care because he makes coffee in the microwave all the time and it’s fine. Jake puts an end to it by saying hot chocolate tastes best with water and then laughing when both Marc and Steven gang up on him. 

“I cannot believe you think that mate.”

“You know how many different types of milk there are?”

“Absolutely disgusting.”

“Cow, goat, soya, almond, coconut, literally any of them instead.”)

Jake: Knitting

Wanted something to keep his hands busy, that he could pick up and put down, and that he could take in his cab when he was stationary and waiting for fares. 

Took to it a lot quicker than he thought it would, and can just zone out and knit. It helps keep him grounded. 

He feels like he has spent a lot of his time destroying and there is something so satisfying about being able to create. 

Once he mastered the stitch he quickly moved onto making clothes. Before Marc and Steven knew about him he used to knit jumpers for Steven and hide them in the wardrobe. 

Jake makes Marc a cartoony style baseball jumper that he also loves, and a thick cardigan for Steven that is covered in hieroglyphics (he spends months researching the language to get it to make some sense, and works in a dig at Khonshu in there and has Steven crying with laughter.) 

When they know about him Steven excitedly requests the “most garish and over the top Hanukkah jumper anyone has ever seen!” Jake does his best, presenting it to Steven (and trying to hide how nervous he feels) Steven loves it and refuses to take it off all winter. 

Most people think Jake has a stern glare when he wants, but you can never be sure if he’s planning your destruction or trying to work out how many balls of wool it would take to make someone your size a jumper.

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @welcometostayingawake @mbakubabe @solobagginses @melodygatesauthor @romanarose @pimosworld @jake-g-lockley

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

[soaps-mohawk]

i will square up in defence of you and of omega any day. you’re writing is wonderful and beautiful and i stay up late on saturday nights just to read the new chapter (timezones. whoo.)

AND FOR OMEGA. she has been conditioned into seeing herself as less. as nothing more than someone for alphas to breed and use. not a person but an object. throw on the absolute trauma of being ripped away from her mother while presenting and being highly vulnerable, and then the conditioning including what surmounts to torture in order to condition her. so of course she’s afraid of being rejected by her pack, of course one of if not THE greatest motivators for her is fear. she may be loved but she is also terrified even if there weren’t cameras hidden in her room.

such a clear indication of the lack of reading comprehension skills because it is so so clear that her fight or flight response is always going to be freeze or flee. because she was psychologically conditioned to be that way. to lose her fight, what little she had to begin with. to submit (freeze) or shrink away (flee).

- char / vgilantee

Timezones are so weird. I can always have the chapter come out even earlier if the people on the other side of the world would like. I have it post around 5 am my time (Pacific time) but I can make it earlier if y'all don't want to stay up late since I can just schedule the chapters now...let me know

Anyway you're exactly right. She went through a lot of trauma in her childhood and then presenting as an omega only added onto that, with how her father reacted to it. Then she was sent to a place that conditioned her to think of herself as an object, as having nothing more than what she can offer others that have more power over her (socially, mentally, genetically, instinctually). Omegas aren't weak by any means, but society wants them to think that because it's definitely an analogy of patriarchal society and how those with mental health disorders have been and still are treated.

If you don't understand that...then I suggest both some introspection and some practice in critical thinking and media literacy.

But you're absolutely right. Omegas by default are always going to try and flee. If that's not possible then it's freeze and that's where distress comes in. It's that sort of last ditch effort for survival before things get dangerous and that fight instinct comes out in their true omega form (which they often won't survive due to the stress it puts on the body). All of which are very valid forms of stress responses. I'm a freeze person myself 🤷‍♀️ it's not really something you can change unless you're trained to do so.

Thank you for this though. I really appreciate everyone coming to the defense of my sweet baby angel 'mega. Thankfully not many have misunderstood her and the few that have came from a place of ignorance as well as a lack of analysis and media literacy skills.

[sentimental-idiot25]

Account and Ao3 Update

Hi everyone,

I wanted to take a moment to share something important with you. I’ve recently made the decision to remove most of my fics and works from Ao3—going from 41 pieces to just 7.

First, I want to apologize to those of you who enjoyed my writing and found yourselves revisiting it. I know how much stories can mean to us, and it makes me so happy that mine could be that for some of you. Your support, no matter how big or small, has meant more to me than I can put into words.

Writing has always been deeply personal for me. I’ve always dreamed of calling myself a writer—not necessarily in a career sense, but as someone who could create something meaningful with words. Since pursuing it professionally isn’t an option, I threw myself into writing as a hobby. For years, it felt like a lifeline, something I could pour my heart into and share with others.

I first started writing when I was 11, full of ideas and excitement. That passion fizzled out after a couple of years, and for six years, I didn’t write at all. When I finally came back to it, it was like falling in love again. I would spend hours writing and revising, completely immersed in creating stories that felt alive. It consumed me in the best way possible.

But somewhere along the way, that fire dimmed. I’d set aside entire days to write, staring at the screen for hours, unable to put a single sentence together. And as much as we, as writers, like to say that we write only for ourselves, external validation does matter. I would pour my heart into a piece, dedicating hours to it, only to get little to no response. It’s not that I expect the world to celebrate my work, but when your effort feels invisible, it’s hard not to lose motivation.

Being a small writer is tough. It often feels like fighting an uphill battle, screaming into a void where no one can hear you. You put the same passion, care, and hours into your work as bigger writers, but your voice is drowned out before it even has a chance to be heard. It’s a lonely and demoralizing experience that leaves you questioning why you even bother.

In my case, I started shifting my focus to writing things I thought people would notice, things I knew might get traction. Ironically, my most popular work—the one with the highest numbers—is the farthest from who I am as a writer. The content doesn’t feel like mine, and while the numbers brought some fleeting joy, the story itself doesn’t. I don’t see myself in it.

What I wish, more than anything, is for the stories that truly reflect me—my introspective pieces, my silly ones, the ones that come from the heart—to get that same recognition. Those are the stories that feel like home to me, and I want to focus on creating more of them.

That’s why I’ve decided to take a fresh start. Over the next year, I’ll be reworking, editing, and polishing many of the pieces I’ve taken down. I want to revisit them with the care and love they deserve and create something that feels true to who I am now as a writer. When they come back, I want to be proud of them—not for their numbers, but for their heart.

To those of you who have supported me through all of this, thank you. You’ve kept me going, and your encouragement has meant the world to me. Being a small writer may feel like shouting into the void most days, but knowing that even a few of you are listening makes it all worth it.

Thank you and will post soon <33

[sea-salted-wolverine]

The House of Usher and the cardinal virtues

I thought to myself it's no good to whine about slotting characters into boring reductive categories without a good rebutal, so here's a dose of slightly more interesting archetypes.

Prospero reflects the cardinal virtue of Diligence and its mirror the sin of Sloth ("But he has an orgy so it has to be lust," by god you're so boring) He is the only Usher who tries to make anything of value. When Camille goes on her little spiel about how Ushers don't make stuff, she's not wrong. Perry got pretty ruthlessly shot down when he was presenting his ideas for trying to make value and start a night club chain, rather than just taking credit for someone else's work like all of his siblings and his dad. But he was at least trying. His drive to prove himself and gain respect is how he gets himself into the whole mess. However, it is the act of not doing his due diligence that kills him.

Camille has an interesting one because while breaking into a lab facility to expose mistreatment of animals would seem like the cardinal virtue of kindness, she's only there to get one over on her sister. The inverse of Kindness is Envy, and for as important as her role is as the family spin doctor, Camille is valued the least. Everyone suspects Perry when they hear about an informant, but that's because he's an idiot baby. Victurine is useful with her heart mesh implant, Napoleon took the role of the "chill fun sibling", and the other two are original Ushers, so Camille is left as the unfavored child.

Napoleon tried to buy his way out of his problem with Charity. He could have come home with a different cat entirely and told his boyfriend he was looking in shelters for Pluto and accidentally fell in love. Name it Mars, let the boyfriend chalk it up to a weird grief response. Bummer Pluto never came home. Verna would have had him trip over the thing on the stairs in the middle of the night and that would have been that. Instead, everything was transactional as he maximized what he could get out of his relationships for the least amount of effort. The boyfriend can live with him, the boyfriends cat can move in too, but as soon as that becomes even the slightest bit more effort (like when boyfriend wants to meet the family, or curb the drug use, or the cat brings home a dead thing) Napoleon wants it gone from his life.

Victurine likewise could have had a painless clean death had she mustered up the Humility to say that the device didn't work. Her demise, unlike her younger siblings, was a compilation of smaller shitty decisions and white lies. She could even recognize that each choice was morally wrong, but it was little choices that were easier to brush off. A dead monkey, a foraged signature, a rightfully concerned patient reassured with platitudes. Even before she was scrubbing blood off the floor to Bonnie Tyler, her inability to admit her choices were flawed was getting her in trouble.

Tamralane with her perfectly manicured curated life, is the one to take Temperance to its furthest extreme. I think it was Atwood who wrote about women and the internal voyeur to preform for, but I'm not going to Google it for a post about horror characters losing their minds and dying horribly. She lives under a personal panopticon of her own expectations and can never allow herself to experience her own life lest she fall short. Her wealth rather than mitigating this exacerbates the issue, giving her access to any and every distance she could possibly want. Death by mirrors isn't so much her going insane as it is the culmination of the life shes built for herself.

(Plus, I know her lonely evening was meant to be ~spooky~ but babe, that is literally just ADHD. Can't remember where you put the thing? Can't remember doing the thing? CAN'T SLEEP?! DOES EVERYONE HATE YOU AND THINK YOU'RE AN INSANE BITCH FOR PERFECTLY VALID REASONS?! Looks like Adderall for you).

Fraudrick. You dickwad. No Patience to allow your very injured and traumatized wife explain herself. The inverse of Patience is Wrath. Demonstrated that one in spades. I'm on Verna's side on this one. Pliers, really?

(His wife's name is fucking Mori. As in momento mori.)

Which leaves Madeline and Rodrick. What's a Gothic horror story without some really fucking weird and unsettling sibling dynamic? Dull, that's what. Anyway, never letting anything touch them or impede them in their lust for power and wealth offers a strange sort of Chastity. There's no love, not for the kids or Annabelle Lee that could touch them, no moral they wouldn't overturn, no value they wouldn't abandon. Madeline values her freedom above all else but she spent her life bound to her brother. They wouldn't even spare each other in ruthless pursuit of just a little more power.

So yeah, bummer for August Dupain that he wound up against the most supernaturally fucked up family that ever lived.

[oigimi]

. performances .

. arthur x reader . entry for day 2 of 12 days of arthur .

“Is he here yet?” I murmured to myself, trying to get a good look of the crowd from backstage. I had to do my best to not be seen, but god I wished I could get a good look at everyone present. It was closing night of our show. Six days of mayhem, six days of putting myself out there for everyone to see, six days of makeup that could make my skin break out like I’d never known before, and six days of hoping he’d show up. Any show came with aggressive advertising, and practically begging my friends to come see it, usually with some success. I’d seen my friends Theo and his brother Vincent, Isaac, Sebastian (who came multiple times), Leo, Napo, and everyone else in my circle. It was validating, having people come up to me and give me a big hug, couples with choruses of “You were amazing!” and “You were my favorite character!”

But none of it really mattered if he wasn’t there.

Arthur was the one I really wanted to see in the crowd. He was someone I’d only known for a few years, but I’d developed the biggest crush on him. His accent, his kindness, his talent, and his general sharpness encapsulated me. He was the kind of guy that someone can only dream of. Like a character in a story. He wrote a lot of those, too. His stories were so vivid, with imagery that was brewed in my mind like a stew with the finest ingredients. The characters, the settings, the emotions they felt drew me in so deeply I’d lose myself in them and blur the lines in my psyche to the point where I’d forget where I was at the end. And the most amazing part: He did all this while working his way into med school.

Poor guy had been so busy the last few weeks, but he said over the course of two weeks that he’d try his best to make it. With a confident smile and a twinkle in his eye, his promises eased my heart. But as each day came and went, as I came out for every curtain call, I hadn’t seen him. His sapphire eyes, the color and shine unlike those of anyone else in the world, were nowhere to be found. His smile was not in the sea of people rewarding our efforts with a standing ovation. “Don’t worry, he’ll be there next time,” I’d keep telling myself. But every time I didn’t see him was another crack in my lovestruck hopes that he’d be there. That hurt me more than anything, as I remembered his confident words of assurance.

As I retreated from my viewpoint, I came face to face with Will, who was performing in the show with me. He had a forlorn expression, making my heart pound a little harder. What was wrong? Was a light not working? Did someone get sick?

“We have sold all the tickets,” he murmured to me, and nothing more.

Will had known of my infatuation for months now, and he knew how excited I was about the idea of Arthur bearing witness to the show we had worked so hard to put on. He’d heard every time I gushed about him, every story I’d told about him and myself, every scenario in my mind where he would react to the show in different ways. And that’s why he had such a heavy expression, that only deepened as he witnessed the tears pooling up in my eyes.

“We are? But I don’t see him!” I whispered, so as to not echo my voice into the crowd. “He’s not here! Will!” I hugged myself and looked down, trying not to mess up my makeup I’d worked so hard on. A weep escaped me, I just couldn't help it. It felt stupid, especially because my other friends already came. It felt like I was being ungrateful, but through my rationale was the flood of emotions that I’d been hiding from Arthur the whole time. If he didn’t come to the show, it was like he didn’t return my feelings. It stopped being about the show a long time ago. I knew he was probably busy, but he’d promised. He promised me a sliver of his time. Honestly if he’d just said outright that he likely wasn’t going to be able to come, I’d probably have been spared a lot of heartache.

But the reality was that seats were filled, and Arthur wasn’t one of the people filling. The show must go on.

My presence in the wings wasn’t my presence backstage. As I stood waiting for my entrance, I did everything I could to suppress my feelings. I gulped, I sighed, I shook it all out, but it only worked a little bit. If I was being honest, nothing was really going to stop how I felt, but I could stop how I presented myself. I put my brave face on, swallowed my hopeless feelings, and stepped onto the stage with all the swagger I’d possessed before.

I did one last scan of the crowd, as a Hail Mary that maybe something would work out. Maybe the stars aligned and things would go my way. He’d be there. He’d be there just like he promised.

And what I saw startled me to the extent that I almost broke character. Sitting in the front row was none other than Arthur Conan Doyle, with the most focused expression I’d ever seen him bear. He was taking in every bit of what we were doing, eyeing the intricate set and the handmade costumes from our costumer Mitsuki. This changed everything. This absolutely changed everything!

All it took was one moment for everything bad I’d ever felt to evaporate. The rejuvenation was unlike anything I’d ever felt, like I had been born again. My lines became coated with a sort of vigor I hadn’t had until that moment. They came from the chest, louder and stronger than before. My triumphs, my losses, my highest and my lowest were all more pronounced than they had ever been. All thanks to the presence of the one I cared about the most. I had to do my best for him! I just had to perform like everything was at stake!

Like every show, it had to come to an end. The cast and I came out, hand in hand, to take our final bows. Our farewell to the months we’d spent crafting a play all of us were passionate about. One last hurrah before we parted forever. And as my gaze shifted back to the crowd, I could only focus on the blue-haired man who was the first to get on his feet. His confident grin wasn’t that anymore: It was a radiant, delighted smile that reached his eyes. His beautiful, brilliant blue eyes. This was it. This was the happiest I’d ever been post-show.

“You did positively fantastic, bird!” he laughed, scooping me up in a hug once we were able to meet in the theatre lobby. “I was starting to wonder if it was truly you, you are just wonderful at playing someone wholly different! I think you’d even be able to fool me one of those days with those acting skills of yours.”

“Oh no, I’m not that good!” I replied, hugging him back with all the force my body could muster. “I think you think too highly of me.”

“Nonsense, I don’t extend that praise to just anybody. You shone so brightly, even next to your co-stars.” He pulled away to get a good look at my face. “You’re quite red. Could it be that your performance was motivated by something else? Fueled with… Hm, I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

I gulped, trying to hide the growing redness that apparently bled through my makeup. “N-no, I always perform that way! What are you trying to get at here?” Through my defense, I anticipated another teasing jab from Arthur. Was he catching on? Or worse, had he caught on long ago? Oh god, the thought was starting to make me dizzy.

“Well you were simply the best on that stage,” he hummed. “No one else had that sort of passion you did. And it was only when we made eye contact that this all seemed to kick in. It seems my presence boosted your performance. And that, coupled with your flushed little face seems to imply… love, perhaps?”

I stood, completely at a loss as to what to say. He’d cracked the case, like he always did. Digging my hole even further wasn’t going to help me in the long run. I sighed the heaviest sigh and nodded. “Yeah, maybe a little bit.”

“Just a little bit? That disappoints me. I must say that I feel very similarly about you. You’re quite cute when you’re embarrassed, you know.”

“Hey, I’m not- What?! What did you say?!”

Arthur chuckled, relaxing a bit. “I return your feelings, love. The passion you feel for me, I feel it for you too. How could I not? So you don’t have to worry. You don’t have to be embarrassed any longer. I’m truly in love with you.”

I soaked in every word he said, still wondering if I was in a dream. It seemed too good to be true. Well, whether or not I was in a dream, I knew I had to act. I stepped forward and hugged Arthur again, mashing my lips against his, to which he returned the favor.

[greenerteacups]

Lol here comes something I would only say or think when it comes to fanfiction :-p

I know they’re 14 and emotions are high, but is it weird that I think that Hermione, or really any of them, doesn’t really take the time to put themselves in Draco’s shoes. Give him a little bit of a break here. He was/is being raised a certain way, but is trying. From the Quidditch Cup chapter, the League meetings, the pureblood parties you see that he feels disgust by what’s going on. I think they’re unconsciously pushing Draco away more than anything. These intense arguments and passive aggressive comments….I can get why Draco feels so panicked from both sides now. I liked that he was questioning the company of Pansy and Theo before and now they’re a better source of comfort and understanding? Ahhh I need the next chapter NOW lol.

Also is Blaise coming back? He’s so utterly fabulous, and I want mooooreeeee.

As always thank you kind writer. I was one of the early readers here and it tickles me seeing how much this fic has blown up. You’re surely making a name of yourself in the Dramione Hall of Fame.

I mean, I don't think it's weird — Draco would certainly agree with you! I always worry that one of the problems of writing exclusively from such a close 3rd is that we lose Hermione's perspective on issues like this one, especially since Draco's is so intensely felt, and he struggles to feel personal empathy on this issue especially. So I'll just throw in a word for her side (and the other Gryffindors', by extent) and say where I think she's coming from. I hope it doesn't come across as an attempt to change your mind, however — I don't want to be one of those authors who tries to hammer everyone into a single understanding/perspective on the text.

The others would probably claim that they're already giving him quite a bit of sympathy. When he calls Hermione's parents "your muggles" (frequent) or remarks about them being less civilized (also not infrequent, and the fact that he thinks of them as "jokes" obscures the fact that Hermione is consistently made angry/unhappy by them), the fact that they don't immediately go "hey, that's a gross way to talk about human beings, can you stop?" is a gesture of understanding and patience on their part. But it's grating on Hermione. She doesn't like having her parents referred to like a different species! Her tolerance is a massive expenditure of energy and emotional wellbeing, and it's not sustainable. When she gets angry at his defense of Snape in Ch49, she's also making what she considers a valid point: she just learned that her teacher, at one point, wanted to kill her, and she's probably making the same inference about Draco's father (if she hasn't already). That scares her, and so her normal levels of patience are diminished by the fact that she's perceiving a direct threat to her life, and Draco is refusing to recognize it, which scares her even more. Which doesn't negate the work that Draco has done to earn her trust — she doesn't accuse him of anything like that level of cruelty, she just sort of takes him to task for defending it — but the point is, they're both putting in tremendous effort to make this friendship work.

There's also the fact that Draco doesn't communicate a lot of his inner conflict to the others. They're his friends, so they can see parts of it — they also have probably noticed how much his language around muggles has changed, and he's getting points for it in the form of tolerance for other areas where he comes up short. But it's worth remembering exactly how bad the ideology that Draco is grappling with is. Hermione sort of gets the final word, here: Draco's trying to defend men who wanted to kill her. He's doing his best, but just as there are limits to his capacity for change, there are also limits to her capacity for understanding.

[tobiasdrake]

Okay. I have my capitalist-whomping stick and a pumpkin spice muffin manufactured by the culinary engines of capitalism. I am ready to throw down in what is literally an intellectual thunderdome.

Yeah, it is surprising that Makoto's end-goal for entering the Mystery Labyrinth is more or less just "cool battleground for our fight".

Problem is, I don't know how he's planning on getting out. The only known way to leave the Labyrinth is when Yuma solves the mystery and reaps the culprit's soul. A visitor tagging along only leaves if they're with Yuma when he does that.

Shinigami has mentioned a second way but warned repeatedly that it comes at a terrible price. Maybe you have to, like, sacrifice Yuma? Which Makoto would be fine with.

His plan is to assume the role of L after killing L, so that he can control the Kira investigation and ensure the truth is never found.

I don't disagree. That's why you should be putting your resources into helping them, rather than simply preserving them.

Like, c'mon, man. I don't trust the UG either. Those assholes want to make immortal super-soldiers out of homunculi. You did a good thing by breaking the city free from their control. I agree that if the truth about Kanai Ward were exposed to the world, you'd lose that bargaining chip.

The only thing protecting this city from exploitation and genocide is blackmail. Once that trigger's fired, it loses those protections. I get that.

How about, instead of stabbing each other, we all put down our swords and talk through ways to manage safe, ethical research into homunculus physiology using Amaterasu resources? Can we do that? Everyone?

Vivia's finally getting through to Yuma. But. Like.

I'm not one for centrism. Often times, the centrist position is simply a refusal to engage with either side of the argument.

But. Like.

There has to be a middle ground between

1 - Let's expose the truth to the world and then let UG do whatever it wants to the homunculi of Kanai Ward! 2 - Let's keep the homunculi forever imprisoned within a cage of rain, gradually dying out over decades until all that's left is the barren husk of a city and a well-populated zombie enclosure.

I don't want to fight Makoto over this. But I don't think his autocratic leadership is enough.

I mean. He's not wrong on that front. The Mystery Labyrinth is a truly awful justice system. We've been wantonly murdering people left and right, something I've never shied away from criticizing our methodology for.

But. Like.

Your morality isn't defined by what you're against. It's defined by what you're for. This is not a tug-of-war. Yuma's flaws do not make Makoto good by default. "Everybody sucks here" is a valid outcome.

If exposed externally? This city will become ripe for exploitation by UG, who would want to take control of any effort to stabilize the defective homunculi for their own immortal soldier programs. If they aren't slaughtered outright.

But that's no reason not to expose the truth internally. Kanai Ward's an isolated city-state with no contact with the outside world so there's little fear of information leaking out. And once people know, they can work together to help solve the problem. After an adjustment period of outrage and panic, of course.

Which is why they should have a voice in it. Makoto is not their voice. He's as much an outsider as Yuma. He's just the outsider who's decided he knows what's best for them.

You can push through this, Yuma. You can--

Nope, there we go. Guess we're jumping, then.

Oh hey, a Labyrinth portal. In the Labyrinth. Will we have to solve the Mystery Within a Mystery of Why Makoto's Full of Shit?

Let's see, I drew....

That's an okay hand. I'll play Margulaw first because he's good for filtering and accelerating mana....

Don't fall for the false dichotomy, Yuma. Makoto says there are only two outcomes here: Ultimate doom for Kanai Ward or keeping things as is. He would ask you to choose between them. But you don't have to play his game.

Who says those are the only options? Him? He came here to stab you. Why are we letting him define the rules?

One of whom is currently roaming the Restricted Area as a feral and the other four are "dead" with conspicuously pink homunculus bloodstains.

Makoto and Yuma have the same manners of thinking and reacting to stress. I wonder why that might be.

To be fair, that's for good reason. You're a monster who kills people.

Nice to finally get a flashback of Number One's pact with Shinigami.

Shinigami was Number One's answer to Yomi's silencing methods. Makoto and Number One weren't in cahoots. They were simply both playing long games against Yomi.

Knowing that it was Yuma who said all of this makes it hit... about the same, really.

But Number One's philosophy may be more complicated than it appears. I note that he keeps qualifying the exposing of the truth. He wants a perfect solution, not just a solution. He wants to expose the truth to make everyone happy, not just to expose the truth. By that logic, if the truth didn't help everyone then it wasn't a good enough truth, right?

Of course, he also quoted this bit again.

So, y'know, maybe he still sucks and I'm giving him too much credit. There is no "perfect solution" for Kanai Ward without empathy for the people living in the city. The WDO creed is Logic Bro propaganda.

I like Shinigami's addendum here. Everybody has their own morality; Their own interpretation of the facts. But you need to first lay out the facts before you can decide how you want to interpret them.

The acquisition of knowledge is never, in itself, wrong. One must acquire knowledge before they can decide what to do with it.

However, this does fall flat given that Shinigami's superpower is committing spirit-murder of the killer regardless of whether they were in the right or not. Historically, Shinigami has never empowered Yuma to figure out for himself whether the truth is correct. Once the truth becomes known, Shinigami always forces his hand to do one and only one thing with it. Her powers decide what we do with the information, not Yuma.

The metaphysics aren't meshing well with the message she's trying to deliver here.

[confusioncentral]

Found this in my notes app

Almost everyone talks to Ryan about Dylan. They want Ryan to talk to Dylan. It's not that Ryan doesn't want to talk to Dylan ... he just doesn't know how.

Until he decides to bite the bullet; he'd rather do that than let said bullet take away one of the only good things that came out of the nightmare that was August 22nd.

⚠️ Warning: lots of introspection

Ryan would be lying if he said he was good at handling emotions.

Not just other people's, but his own, too. His life had been so chaotic in the past few years that he'd felt it necessary to put his emotions on the back burner and focus on what mattered. It was only after he was out of the woods and things had settled down that Ryan realized how much of an impact it had had on him.

He hadn't been great at the whole "feelings" thing in the first place, but after he was reintroduced to it (in probably one of the worst ways imaginable), he felt like a complete loser.

He wasn't completely inept, though; he could identify most of his emotions by now, as well as those that the people close to him felt, but that didnt feel like enough. He could hardly regulate himself when shit hit the fan, and often fell into a state of either numbness or panic. Both of which had consequences.

The numbness let him think, make decisions, and keep moving without hindrances, though a lot of his actions were made without much second thought or valid reason. The panic helped him move and stay vigilant, as well as aware of not just the situation but the emotions present in said situation. However, his sensitivity was incredibly heightened, and if he didn't keep himself in check, he could easily have a mental breakdown that could last for an insurmountable period of time.

Ultimately, it was a lose-lose situation. The fact that he'd been a mix of both throughout the nightmare that had been August 22nd, 2022 was little comfort, as it made everything even more confusing.

During those twelve or so hours the nightmare had lasted, Ryan hadn't thought ahead about dealing with the consequences of suppressing his emotions ... he'd been a bit more focused on staying alive. But now that he was out of it and back in the real world, he figured karma was biting him in the ass for forgetting.

It wasn't just his own turmoil, either; a lot of what he'd done had had an impact on other people, and not just physically. Said people that, now that they weren't bound by the constrictions of the law and he was actually talking to again, weren't as hesitant as he was to talk about all that had happened while they'd both been together as a group and separated.

And while none of the conversations were ever accusatory towards anyone, Ryan couldn't help but feel apprehensive whenever someone brought up an instance that he'd been involved in. He supposed that was telling in of itself, as if he had nothing to be guilty for, he wouldn't feel the need to defend himself.

It wasn't just the acts of cutting off his coworkers hand, ditching everyone to try and prove something that he turned out to be wrong about, and shooting his former boss and kind of father-figure in the head, either. He had a lot more to feel guilty about. Small, seemingly insignificant things that didn't have anything to do with August 22nd, but about how he'd spent his last summer before he closed yet another chapter of his life.

Of course, August 22nd came around and flipped Ryan's entire world upside down regardless.

He knew that not seeking closure was doing a number on him, but he just couldn't bring himself to make any effort to try. The idea of reaching out to Dylan or Laura, clarifying the reasoning behind his actions and talking over what they'd been through together felt more terrifying than witnessing Nick explode out of his skin in a spray of blood and jump out the window in full werewolf mode after nearly killing Abi. And he knew that his lack of action was likely affecting them, too.

This was why Ryan tended to not get involved with people. Not because of the possibility of being forced to fight off a pack of bloodthirsty werewolves in the middle of a random ass forest with them, but the whole emotions thing. Both his and theirs. Ryan wasn't good with feelings, even they knew that.

It seemed life wanted to change that for him, and Ryan stubbornness could only last for so long.

....

Should I continue writing this?

[runawaycarouselhorse]

When a narcissist meets another narcissist and is shocked by them and you get to explain narcissism and its roots (no, not an evil inhuman creature that crawled out of Hell, but a child forever seeking the love and approval of others by building false paper-thin personas to attain people's love, while neglecting their true self, so forever feeling unloved, because people only love those false images they put all their effort into constructing--all their relationships are therefore flimsy and false and just seeking to gain those words of love their parents never gave them or only gave them when they performed, achieved, or did something to be ~worthy~ of love) to that person and at first, they're all annoyed, "By that logic, everyone's a narcissist, me, my mom, my dad, everyone in society!"

... so close. So close!

I tried to then reassure them they can in fact have narcissistic traits, it's rare to see such a fullblown textbook example like the one currently ruining her family back home, but no, not all of society is like that, even if it seems that way.

She spoke about how they always knew their parents loved them, even if they never said it, hit them, shouted at them, etc. (Yikes again, but I've seen the level of cruelty that became normalized in her family, to the point a man pulled his belt as if threatening to beat a tiny little girl, she burst into tears, and everyone laughed. It was so evil and sadistic and disturbing as hell to me.)

She also tried to spin it as Arab society in general having trouble actually saying "I love you" and said her parents never said it to her. I told her that's not normal, maybe in past generations, but it's like the hadeeth about the bedouin man who disapproved of the Prophet kissing his grandsons and telling him "You kiss your boys? We never do!" and the Prophet just looks at him and tells him "What can I do for you if God has removed mercy from your heart?"

I explained children differ in nature and personalities, not all of them will just know their parents love them if they never say it. That's the thing people laugh about when they don't understand progressive parenting or why the parents praise their kid and tell them how much they love them and are proud of them, whether they win or lose, because children need that validation and love from their parents, to have true uncondtional love not tied with achievements and their image or bragging rights before society. Children should be loved not for their achievements or parental "bragging rights," but because it's their right as children to receive parental love and necessary for their mental wellbeing, or we can easily get adults who make it everyone else's problem that their parents didn't love them, and never stop neglecting their own souls to perform and present a false image hoping to hear words of love or praise from other people, all the while frustrated, knowing they aren't loved, but only a false picture of them is.

[harleyshahas]

[5 comfort characters and 5 tags]

I was tagged in something!!! Holy shit, thank you @heartlessfujoshi !!

So uh... there's been so many characters over the years it's hard to narrow down to just 5! But there are ones that I always find myself coming back to for one reason or another so we'll start with:

Sora (Kingdom Hearts) - My son. My sweet baby boy. My beautiful sunshine boy. This kid makes me cry every single time I play these games, without fail. I know a lot of people latch on to Riku for one reason or another, and I know there was a lot of Sora hate when Two came out, but I have grown up with Sora, and I love his drive, his commitment, his optimism. Hes not afraid to rely on his friends, and he's been able to find the light in the dark every time his circumstances spiral, and there's been so many times in my life where I've needed that, and I just appreciate it so much in him.

Sly Cooper (Sly Cooper/Sly Raccoon) - this one's a little embarrassing, but I can't make this list without him. If there's one game I go back to more than KH, then it's the Sly series. In the words of Kevin Miller, he's cool, he's calm, and he has a sexy voice. It's a game I love to play on a rainy day, and I love watching Sly grow into himself as both a thief and a person, learning to rely on his friends, living up to his family name, and then learning to let it go when the time finally comes. He's wonderful and I adore him.

Yugi Muto (Yu-Gi-Oh) - oh boy. He's sunshine and sweetness and adorable, and I won't hear a bad word about him! YGO was my very first fandom. It introduced me to online spaces like forums, DA, LJ, and ffnet. Once again, here is a character who's not afraid to rely on his friends, who can find light in the dark places, and is incredibly driven (I'm sensing a theme here...). He wants nothing but the best for the people around him and I just love him so, so much.

Eggsy Unwin (Kingsman) - He's just... He's a near perfect character! Kingsman is easily one of my top two favorite movies, and Eggsy is such a big part of why it's a great movie. His family is broken when he's a kid, he grows up in a terrible environment but still recognizes that his mum did the absolute best that she could for him and he loves her regardless. He loves his baby half sister and wants the best for her, but because of his circumstances he can't provide that for her. Even after he's offered a way out, he still has trouble getting over his flaws, with reconciling who he's been and what he wants to become, and he's willing to put forth the effort to make the changes he needs to make to become that better person. He's kind, he's determined, he's a snarky shit, and he's great.

Jack Skellington (The Nightmare Before Christmas) - if there's one movie I've seen more than Kingsman, more than any other movie I've ever watched, it's TNBC. Jack is someone who is just... tired. He's so tired. He's tired, he's bored, he's done with everything, and everyone around him. He's lost his drive, his spark, his reason for being. He's the embodiment of depression. People like to give this movie a lot of flak, and I get it, but it's a simple movie with a simple story, and it's this one guy trying to validate his reason for being. And along the way, he loses a little bit more of himself. He doesn't even see that it's happening, but the ones closest to him? Zero and Sally, they try to help him see, they try to bring him back, but Jack's so blinded by this new shiny thing that he can't see that he's losing more than just himself. It's not until it's too late, until he's put himself and Zero into harm's way that he finally realizes that he needs to better himself, for himself, for his friends, and for his town. He learns to recognize he's in a depressive spiral and resolves to do better, to be better, and see what he's had all along.

Some runners up include: Frodo Baggins, Samwise Gamgee, Jim Hawkins, Danny Fenton, Vlad Masters, Pitch Black, Jack Frost, Dipper Pines, Stan Pines, Hiccup Haddock, Seto Kaiba, Garrus Vakarian.

5 tags: @creamsodaprince @gilly-moon @ashgunnywolf @bunnimew @dennyz-backroom

[alasse-earfalas]

argument

Billy sat at his easel and bit into the odd alien fruit. He couldn’t think of what real-world fruit it resembled so it would have to be content remaining an amalgamation for now. 

Something itched at his ear, but Billy swatted it away. No, he didn’t want to listen to Alassë right now, she was too anxious and controlling. He knew what she was going to ask and he refused to work for her. 

“Billy,” Alassë tried to say anyway. “Billy, why are you angry at me?” 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” 

Alassë’s typing was much slower as 

“STOP IT I SAID I DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT.” 

“Billy please, why are you getting in my way with this? Can’t I get a chance to write about something that I want to write—”

“You mean force me to write something I don’t want to.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I’m bored! I already know what happens, there’s nothing to explore anymore! I want to move on to something else, and besides it’s been dragging on for ages and we keep changing our minds on where we want to take it.” 

“You mean it’s fanfiction. We’re not trying to sell this to a publisher ya doofus, let’s just write like crap and have fun with it.” 

“How am I supposed to have fun when it’s the same dang thing over and over again? Sky is sad, something happens, ten chapters take up the entire course of a day—the pace is slow and grinding and the plot keeps losing itself and if it weren’t for the Gate of Memory thing I established early on, we’d be lost at sea with no cohesion to the story at all! 

“The only reason you want to keep writing it is so you can share it with people and get comments and see the view count go up (yeah, don’t think I haven’t seen you obsessing over that lately) to somehow validate what’s supposed to be all in good fun. If you don’t care about quality then why do you care if people see it? Besides these are strangers on the internet—”

“Some of them are my friends—”

“Yeah and I can count those on one hand, and as many friends as read your stories on a finger! These people don’t know you or me or any of us or what we have been through so why do you care so much about being accepted by them?” 

All Alassë could think about was the weighted blanket of profound loneliness that suffocated her as a child through into young adulthood. Despite her efforts to think, this was all she could feel, and she didn’t know how to use this as an argument because it wasn’t. 

“I just want someone to be proud of my writing—” 

“No, no love, you have that backwards. I can see what you’re feeling, you’re a tiny little girl standing at an art museum, wanting to put your (well done, to be completely fair) scribbles on display in the hopes that you might get praise like you’re hearing everyone around you getting.” 

“Yes I know,” she said, upset but not at Billy, “what’s that feeling called though?” 

“Why is validation suddenly the devil to you?” 

“Because you just yelled at me about it!” 

“Go back and read this, love, that’s not what I said.” 

“You—”

“Go back and read. Then I’ll talk.” 

Alassë glared at him. “Okay so it was brief but it was there. You never used the word exactly but you did ask me why I want people to validate what I do.” 

Billy crossed his arms. “Yes and my question still stands, why do you care? That’s not worthy validation, you know that right? Your talents are not who you are, love, they’re gifts from God and you know this. So why look to online anons who you’ll never talk to in the flesh rather than the God who made us? Why, do, you, care?” 

Alassë felt insulted and angry and called out at once. 

“Isolation isn’t healthy for any of us, Billy, and you know it.” Rye stepped into the room, towering over them with Billy still seated. “Don’t be so brash for her craving attention, you know we’re malnourished of that.” 

“Then talk to Das or someone, why does this have to be the medium that we get attention—” 

“You know neurology,” Rye said with an annoyed sigh, “you know the answer to that question. How we interacted with others growing up shapes patterns in our brains, right? How did we get—”

“Okay okay yes I get it, you don’t need to remind me of all the gosh-awful fanfiction we wrote in high school.” Billy rubbed his face and groaned at the memory. 

“You’re focusing on the product,” Rye mused. 

“Of course I am! I’m the artist here, she calls me her fetching muse, and that’s pretty darned accurate so why shouldn’t I take that role seriously!” Billy chuffed angrily and ran his hands through his hair, pulling the strands up like he was trying to pull them out. 

“I’m not mad at the role,” Billy said in a calmer tone. “That’s not what I meant. I just feel hounded and I need some space. If you want to write something on your own, then do it on your own. You don’t need my help for that—” 

“You know d—n well that’s not true.” 

Rye rarely swore, and his deep tone got Billy to jump a little. “Geez, cut that out, please, I don’t like your intimidation effects.” Billy squirmed in his chair. “Okay alright I get it, I’m being bad, will you stop now?” 

The fog lifted and the chills damped. “You’re ignoring an emotional need,” Rye said quietly. “I know you have concerns, and I’m not saying there’s no truth to it.”

“What’s wrong, Billy?” 

Billy did not want—felt like he couldn’t—answer her question. He shuffled again in his chair. “I don’t know,” he responded curtly. 

“I know I, ‘shouldn’t care’—” Alassë started, but Rye cut her off. 

“Should is relative and helps no one. Acknowledge where you are first. What is fanfiction—or writing at all—to you?” 

“I don’t know how to describe that,” she admitted. “I already wrote out what I was feeling earlier.” 

Rye nodded. “I know this isn’t my expertise here, so correct me by all means if I misunderstand, but your loneliness—echoes from when we had no long-term friends—still haunt you. You are seeking the friends you never had through the medium of this fanfiction, and because you’re used to not interacting face to face with the people who you’re able to connect to in other ways—I mean you find friends with similar interests online much easier than you do in real life—then you want to do what you can in order to feel what little semblance of love and acceptance and belonging that you can from them. What you are seeking to validate, specifically, is that you are accepted as a vital part of someone else’s life, something you contribute brings them joy that they don’t want to be without, ergo, you have intrinsic value to them. You want to be part of a community and provide for that community things that will make you a valued asset. It’s basic survival applied to the online fandom sphere.” 

“… Why do you hide that big brain behind the rest of us?” Billy asked rhetorically. 

Rye shrugged. “I prefer to solve conflict. So long as things are running smoothly I prefer to not intervene.” He smiled cheekily. “With your ‘background’ Billy, I would think you of all people would understand the doctrine of non-interference.” 

Billy wanted to interrupt but decided not to. Rye was referring to the… fictional?… backstories that they all had to help provide adequate motivations for why they thought and behaved the way they did. Non-interference was a tenant of some fantasy race that Billy was half part of, an explanation for some of what he could do as well as why he didn’t do more. One of those, “interfere and you’ll lose your powers” kind of deals. 

“Can we compromise and go for a walk?” Billy asked tiredly. “We can brainstorm while we’re out of you like.” 

It was hard for Alassë to type up an adequate response, so she nodded instead.