#so a lot of it has this sort of..... shallow feel to it

[deeplyshalllow]

If you think that all Fiyero has in terms of characteristics in wicked, then I would encourage you to re-watch the musical because you've missed quite a lot! I'll give you that some of it's a bit subtle because he's not in very many scenes but we get quite a lot from him

- as you said he presents like he doesn't care when he does - I don't think that's that shallow a personality trait though? It leads to quite a lot of questions about why he is that way, what has made him, a boy who has come from even more privileged than Glinda, care so much more about the Animals and generally making the world a better place than her? Why has he felt the need to hide it? Is it some degree of childhood trauma (the San Francisco previews of the musical has him state that before Elphaba he didn't believe that love was real)? Is it an inability to make a difference? Does he have some learning difficulty like ADHD or dyslexia which has made him not very book smart so he felt better pretending not to care? It's also so wonderful to see how his interactions with Elphaba inspire him to make this change.

- he's incredibly smart, somewhat ironic given he becomes the scarecrow, but I think he's the most intelligent of the group! He basically runs act 2. If it was not for him, Elphaba would have been captured in the throne room (possibly Glinda too as she tried to help her escape), Elphaba would have been captured in the cornfield and Elphaba wouldn't have had the plan to fake her own death. Honestly, his girls would be lost without him! Elphaba inspires him to do good, but Fiyero is needed as her calm, to help her think before her actions and to keep her safe.

- he's the best politician of the group, he's the only one with any degree of impulse control, while both Elphaba and Glinda tend to react and think about consequences later, Fiyero takes a step back, works out what to do and what best to say to people to get what he wants, even if it means appearing on the wrong side. It's sort of sad that, after doubtless driving his parents mad by flunking school, he would have probably made an excellent king.

- morso in the movie than in the musical, but he's just incredibly kind! Unlike Glinda, he doesn't judge Elphaba by her skin colour, works out remarkably quickly that she's wearing a mask too and tries his best to get her out of it. He doesn't want her to change, or temper her feelings to fit with what is normal (like literally everyone else in her life) and loves her for exactly who she is. This is why he works so well with Elphaba, here's the only person, who will sit and tell her to be herself and mean it, he is the person who can tell her that she is valuable and is allowed to do stuff for herself, rather than just trying to help or please others. We also see in the musical, a concerted effort to make it up to Glinda after running away with Elphaba, he expresses straight after "as long as your mine" that he hopes someday they'll all make up and apologizes to her in the next scene.

I don't really think you get much less personality from Fiyero than Glinda really? I mean when you boil down Glinda's traits you get privileged and spoilt, somewhat spiteful but not overly unkind (though I would argue her initial befriending of Elphaba is almost as rushed as Fiyero's love for her), a very set plan of what she wants in life, a little impulsive, and cares a bit about doing good but not enough to uproot her own life.

You have to look slightly harder, but it's all there in the text, Fiyero is a nuanced character, with his own personality, ambitions and goals. They just tend to align with Elphaba's, as the two of them share such similar morals.

Also, I think it's a little unfair to say that Elphaba longing to be with Glinda as well, makes Fiyero any less important to her, considering she sung a whole song about how terrible her life was and that she was going to give up, when she thought Fiyero was dead!

Fiyerabas love to get on Twitter and tumblr and say stuff like “well fiyero would’ve went with Elphaba in a heartbeat” and act as if that’s a groundbreaking statement. We know what happens in act 2. We know he leaves everything behind for her. The reason why Glinda can’t do that is because she’s an actual nuanced character that has depth to her. She has something to lose. We see how she was brought up in the world. We know that she is a coward. Why WOULDN’T fiyero go with Elphaba? Nothing about his character is complex enough for that to be an option.

Fiyero’s whole character is built on a single characteristic (pretending not to care when he actually does) that is so underdeveloped it’s actually laughable. Why does he pretend not to care? There is not a single thing about him that actually tells us why he acts like that. It just comes out as him being an annoying jerk, even in the movie. His whole character arc is pretending not to care and then caring because of Elphaba. OF COURSE he’d go with her. That’s what his whole personality is based on.

Not to mention the fact that even with him being Elphaba’s ride or die, he’s still boring and his decision to be with her is incredibly unmoving. No one would expect anything else. And even with them ending up together, Elphaba still longs to be with Glinda. She still longs to tell her she’s alive. Fiyero is a boring annoying consolation prize that is a flat and undeveloped “what if” twist on Glinda if she wasn’t as much of a coward as she is. Idgaf

[praisetheaxolotl]

Because this is my blog and you're all my prisoners and I'm bored, this is a fun time to tell you the main character of my podcast is directly based off Bill. He's has his license revoked, been in jail multiple times, tried to commit arson at age 5, and generally disregards the concept of mortality or consequences as it relates to himself. He cares about the people around him but not enough to actually consider their feelings on whatever he's doing. He's also in severe credit card debt and his bestie is an organ trafficker.

[musical-chick-13]

.

[alchemistc]

He likes occupying the same space as Tommy. It's - every time he looks across a room and sees him he just wants all the space between them to disappear. And - okay - yeah - Tommy has, like occupied space inside of Buck so there's - there's a little Pavlovian tic somewhere in the goo Tommy's smile can turn his brain into but also -

He likes the way it feels when they're side by side - naked or clothed - and Tommy arches his shoulder to smack it into Buck's. He likes the way his eyes dart, when they're breathing the same air and he's thinking about kissing Buck - which is a look he relishes now as much for the knowledge that he's about to be kissed as for the knowledge that he'd seen this look a half dozen times before they ever got to the kissing part. He likes the way Tommy occupies Buck's space - never overbearing but always close, close, close like if Buck asked they'd melt pieces of themselves and stick them together before everything cooled back down. He likes the way they can't quite hold hands without their arms brushing, and the way Tommy ducks his head when Buck exaggerates a flirty head tilt.

He likes a lot of things about Tommy.

He likes the way he grudgingly enters a gay bar because it's not really his scene and ends the night with a drag queens feather boa wrapped around his neck while he sings the Gaga parts of Shallow even if he gets a little pitchy.

He likes the way Tommy boops his nose, out of the blue while he's listening to Buck explain something that has no bearing on either one of them or the thing they're working towards together - still listening with rapt attention but also a little devastatingly charmed by Buck's rambles, of all things.

He likes the way his nose scrunches up when he laughs, soft and genuine, the way when he's really feeling it the ears draw back too.

He likes the way he sounds, that first time (and every time after) Buck found his prostate and he whined like a fucking siren.

He likes the way his face softens even when he's tired, worn around the edges as Buck flings a sock into his laundry basket and tucks his head up under Tommy's chin.

He hates the way Tommy shuts down every time Buck tries to bring up the future.

And it's not like - it's not like Buck isn't aware they'd sort of speed run some milestones. House keys swapped with the sort of flippancy you'd expect out of two guys whose schedules rarely lined up. A drawer in Bucks's loft for the clothes Tommy always left behind, because for some reason he liked to fling them over the balcony instead of stuff them back in his overnight bag. A toothbrush at Tommy's a month and a half in, which wouldn't be all that strange except for he'd gone out of his way to buy the same electric one Buck had in his bathroom vanity. The pin to each others phones, swapped and repeated until it was muscle memory and three weeks ago Buck had grabbed the wrong phone but he'd seen the lock screen of the two of them from their hike in Fern Dell and he'd punched the code in like it was rote before he'd even been fully awake.

Tommy'd hit a wall, though, the first time Buck brought up his lease. And it wasn't - Buck isn't always the best about understanding the shit going on in his own head, but he actually hadn't been going any particular direction there, it'd just been something to fill the lull that had popped in his head and -

Of course, when Tommy froze the fuck up Buck decided to poke at it like a particularly nasty yellowing bruise.

Kids - not his own, just the nebulous idea of them. (Tommy shifted to a conversation about cars so smoothly it'd taken Buck half an hour to notice.)

Marriage - not his own thoughts about it, just that Bobby and Athena had an anniversary coming up and man didn't it suck that Maddie and Chim never got the wedding they wanted and he'd gone to one once in Montana and it'd been in a barn and they'd had candles in Mason jars for their centerpieces before that was the thing to do. (Tommy booped his nose and scrunched his face and held out a ladle of tomato sauce for Buck to try and - son of a bitch he'd known it needed more acid and that Buck would get distracted with recipe talk.)

Homes - the idea of them. Tommy's century old ranch style rental and how it fit him, Bobby and Athena's hunt for a new home, how quiet Eddie's always felt without Chris there, and Tommy had spent an hour listing off all the things he'd fixed up for his landlady and the rent she'd been stubbornly stuffing back through his mail slot every time she found out exactly how much the labor alone for a full copper repipe cost.

So it's.

He's just.

He hates that he's about to do this, here, with his ankle hooked by Tommy's toes under the table at Micelli's when they're supposed to be enjoying six months but he's been on edge for weeks now and he's - God he wants this to work but if Tommy doesn't want to talk future then are they just gonna spend their whole lives stumbling into the next milestone? He doesn't want -

"I had something I wanted to ask -," Tommy starts, right as Buck opens his big mouth and blurts, "I want kids and that's kind of a deal breaker for me."

Tommy blinks.

Buck blinks back.

Not much better than Hot Chicks, as far as Buck is concerned. But Tommy's mouth quirks at the corners, and he jiggles his toes against the back of Buck's ankle, and -

Tommy blows out a breath. "Oh thank God."

"What?"

So he's -

Buck's confused.

"You've been fishing for months now and I thought you were..." Tommy grimaces. When he leans forward to reach for Buck's hand, his arms are tense and his fingers are clumsy. "I thought we'd gone too fast and you were throwing us in reverse and stepping on the gas."

"What," Buck says again, and rewinds.

Kids: where he'd tried to drop the bomb that there was one out in the world who already had half his genetic code and then blazed along to talk about how Chris was his favorite person in the world and Maddie had struggled with Jee and the whole foster debacle made him terrified of all the stress involved in state sanctioned parenthood.

Marriage: where he'd made some dumb joke about how many marriages ended in divorce and then reminded Tommy how much he hated the fact that weddings cost like a third of a years salary, and then told a horrendous anecdote about the way Eddie had asked Buck to come by one night after Shannon only to find him keyed up out back, with the fire pit going and Shannon's things still tucked into their plastic bag on a stool right next to it.

Home: where he'd told Tommy the house in Hershey was like a prison and he'd never felt more himself than wandering the continent trying to find himself and how the loft was suffocatingly open and of the two places where he always felt welcome, one had burned down and the other had been missing an occupant for so long it had felt sad and oppressive.

Foot in mouth Buckley.

"I brought up my lease and you looked like you were trying to figure out if you could hurdle three tables in one leap to get to the door."

Tommy groans. It's. Buck wants to be annoyed by it but he's charmed as ever.

"That - I did do that."

"So. I'm just. Tommy, I..." Because he's given himself time to think about it, since then, and he really doesn't want to re-up his lease but he's also not sure where to go from here.

"It wasn't what you're thinking, though," Tommy says, and there's a wry tilt to his grin. "Irene wants to sell me the house," he continues, and - there's got to be a point, here.

"Okay."

He likes that house. The lived in feel, the easy walk to a little public market where Buck can always find something healthy and Tommy can always come home with a growler of some new craft beer, the avocado tree in the yard and the renovations Tommy has spent half a decade on.

"When you brought it up I'd just spent two weeks trying to convince myself it was too early to ask you if you wanted to sign up for a mortgage with me."

Six months. A redo of their first embarrassing date. The wine, instead of pitchers of beer. I had something I wanted to ask -

"I want to be married, someday," Buck says, and Tommy's thumb skitters over his wrist. "And - the kid thing. That's still a deal breaker."

Tommy nods. Maybe not a surprise, but - still. That feels important.

"I still don't understand equity," Buck says, and Tommy. Tommy laughs.

"I can teach you," he says, and Buck swallows. He wants to call the waitress over, ask for too many canolli because Tommy's sweet tooth is a tyrant and Buck is still mystified by how he manages to always be so trim despite the amount of sugar he consumes.

Buck narrows his eyes. "How long a mortgage?"

He has a settlement from the city that's just been sitting around, mocking Buck for years. It'd make a good dent even with LA real estate. Tommy smiles. "Oh, 30 years, for sure, but we could refinance at least a few times."

"That's - a long time."

"Housing bubble might pop soon, and then we'd just be stuck in it."

"It's good we both have dependable government jobs."

Tommy's eyes crinkle, but his face gets serious after a moment. "Evan."

"Ask me."

Maddie's gonna fucking flip, Buck thinks. Eddie is definitely gonna give him a side eye. Bobby - Bobby will get it, probably.

Tommy hums. "You wanna share the tiramisu?" His grin is just this side of teasing, and Buck knocks a knee into his in retaliation. His eyes go soft and warm. "You wanna buy a house with me, Buckley?"

[enhalouv]

lee heeseung - birthday boy (boyfriend texts + drabble)

a/n: a belated birthday fic for my baby!! THERES A DRABBLE AT THE END BTW!! hope you enjoy ;)

pairing: heeseung x f!reader

warnings: the texts r fluffy, w a lil bit of smut heh, lots of kissing!!, clothed humping lol, fingering, oral f!receiving, hee is a muncher, overstimulation, lil bit of dirty talk, p in v, unprotected sex whoops

w.c: 2.2k

“Did you like it?”

Heeseung hums, nestling deeper into the crevice between your jaw and neck.

You had gotten home from the party, all numb limbs and sweaty bodies, Both tiredly shuffling into the cramped shower stall. By the time you’d gotten out and ready for bed, it was already 3:15am. You both flopped unceremoniously onto the bed, shuffling to get under the covers.

Exhaustion seeps into your bones, the night long and wearying. Not by the party itself, per say, but the happenings before it. Your phone had rung non-stop as people bombarded it with questions ranging from where they could park to whether the cake was gluten-free. By the time Heeseung had arrived, there was a small pounding at the back of your head.

You had booked a small venue to hold all of Heeseung’s friends. But, the owners wouldn’t let you come in early to decorate, so you’d rallied Jungwon and Sunoo to help with the mere hour they’d given you.

Glinting fairy lights and strings of balloons donned the walls, a huge banner hung up at the bar depicting a baby Heeseung with a drawn-on party hat - courtesy of Jaeyun. You had even gone out of your way to find baby pictures to play a slideshow on the two separate screens displayed at the venue. Scouring his parents’ baby books and various photos hung up around his family home.

By the time the party started, all the decorations were up and the food and drinks were sorted, everything fell right into place. Seeing Heeseung’s surprised face as he entered the venue was well worth the stress you endured.

He had come to you immediately, scooped you up in a hug and spun you around, giggling about how amazed he was and how happy he was that you’d done something like this for him. You couldn’t help the giddy feeling that arose as he spew gratitude to his ‘beautiful girlfriend’ during his birthday speech.

Now that you were home and all danced-out, you couldn’t help but relive the night and all its glorious moments.

“You did amazing, baby. Worked that little butt off to make me the happiest man there.”

Heeseung’s lips stretch into a smile, tickling your neck, dropping a sweet kiss at the base of your throat. He peppers the skin there with tiny kisses, squirming on top of you as you giggle.

One particular kiss has your breath hitching. One accompanied with his tongue laving at the skin. Heeseung sucks at the skin softly, making his way up the column of your throat.

“Heeseung…” you whimper, hands grip at his shoulders as you tilt your head. He takes your invitation and pushes himself against you harder, the outline of his hard cock pressing against your thigh.

Hands wander down your body, slipping under your pyjama top and gripping your waist. You could feel the heat growing between your bodies. The way your heart beat faster and breathing got shallower. The feeling of dreaminess clouding your being as you felt like you were floating at the gentle caress of Heeseung’s hands.

“Should I thank you for your hard work?”

Pressing up against him, you let out a breathless moan, “Please.”

Lifting slightly, Heeseung makes quick work of your top, tossing it behind him before diving down to trail kisses down your chest. His hands squeeze at your breasts, forefingers flick at your already hard nipples. The sensation makes you buck your hips into him, seeking any sort of friction to calm the restlessness you feel itching at your skin.

You like when Heeseung takes his time. He gives every inch of you and your body attention, paying mind to how your body reacts - what things you like and those you don’t. Yet right now, he’s moving far too slow. You think he enjoys torturing you just a little bit. Likes watching you wriggle around for any sort of touch where you need it most.

Slot between your legs, Heeseung stares up you with hooded eyes as he leans down and swipes his tongue against your nipple. Your body arches, hand gripping the back of his head to push him further down into your chest. Heeseung takes his time, lips smear with his own spit as he obscenely sucks and drools all of your tits. His hands knead at the other, ensuring neither is unattended to for very long.

He was driving you mad.

“Fuck,” cursing, Heeseung grinds down into the bed, his cock hard and strains against his boxers. “You did so well for me today, love. Worked so hard to make me happy, didn’t you?”

At his words he trails a hand down to press roughly against your core. He feels the dampness settling between your thighs through your shorts, nipping tenderly at your nipple. Heeseung presses the heel of his palm where he knows your clit is and grinds it against you.

Your head tosses back into the pillows and you moan unabashedly as you press up into his palm. Your cunt now soaked merely by the feeling of Heeseung’s teeth scraping against your nipples and his hand pressing deeply between your thighs. Why you felt so on edge already was mystifying. You had a feeling the weariness from earlier aided to heighten your senses, making you particularly reactive to Heeseung’s advances.

To be honest, Heeseung could probably get off to watching you alone. He’s so hard between his legs, aching as he watches your body writhe in his hold as he presses against you harder.

“Good girl. Already so close and I haven’t even touched you properly yet.”

You groan, hiding your face in your pillow, embarrassed at how true his words were. Your hips stutter as you notice Heeseung watching in your peripheral. Three years and the way Heeseung watches you unravel yourself by his own doing will always make you shy. It’s like he’s completely absorbed into watching your every reaction, how you body moves and reacts to his touch.

The extra attention and the pressure between your legs spurs you on. Your hips grind harder against his palm, your cunt dampening your shorts as you chase your high. Heeseung’s mouth is back against your chest, playing with your nipples in a way that has you mewling. Heeseung’s palm presses a tad harder, the pressure going straight against your clit. With eyes still trained on you, Heeseung fondles your chest and watches as your body suddenly goes taunt, a low moan slipping out as you shudder through your orgasm.

“That’s it, baby, ride it out for me,” Heeseung coos, tucking strands of hair behind your ear and gently caressing the side of your face as you come down. “You’re doing so well.”

Your orgasm left your body hypersensitive. The deft fingers inching down your torso, the palm now splayed flat against your hip - all of it felt heightened.

With a knowing smile, Heeseung presses two fingers against your covered core. Your whole body flinches, letting out a shocked gasp as Heeseung continues to slowly circle his fingers right where your clit is.

He’s sadistic. Heeseung couldn’t help but derive pleasure from watching your overstimulated body writhe this way and that from his ministrations.

Heeseung pulls back, giving you room to calm down. He reaches down to his boxers and palms the uncomfortable hardness. He can’t help but groan as he savours the image of your body covered in small bruises and your puffy nipples that stood erect from his mouth.

You look beautiful.

“Hee,” your voice calls out to him, hands reach out to cradle his face with a look of pure adoration. “Please, I want you.”

He can’t contain the groan at your words, his dick throbs in his hand.

He pulls out of his boxers and turns to take your shorts off, enjoying the way they stick to your pussy, a string of cum connecting them.

Without thinking, Heeseung spreads your folds and leans in and licks a stripe against your cunt. Moaning at the taste, Heeseung begins flicking the tip of his tongue against your clit, relishing in the unrestrained sounds you let out at the feeling.

Heeseung lifts your legs to press them against your chest, leaving you entirely exposed to his mouth. He pushes his face into your pussy, groaning as cum smears against his face as he swipes his head from side to side, tongue flicking out and catching on your clit.

Fingers inch closer to your hole, the tip presses gently before sliding in with ease. The slick pouring from within you help. The squelching sound as he pulls in and out has him stifling a moan, loving the way you squirm beneath him.

“Ah, ah-Heeseung!”

He could tell you were getting close with the way you grip the fabric of his comforter, your hips lift to press his mouth deeper into your pussy. Heeseung pulls his fingers out momentarily to press the wetness onto your clit, moving his fingers quickly side-to-side just as you like, before he thrusts them back into you. His mouth covers your clit, sucking and flicking as you rode out your high - your second orgasm of the night.

Heeseung couldn’t help but keep taking in the taste of your cunt even as you shudder through oversensitivity. His tongue pushes into your hole to encase his tastebuds entirely.

“God, Heeseung, please,” you begged, tears edging your waterline, “Please fuck me, I need you inside me right now!”

Groaning, Heeseung pulls down his boxers and kicks them off to the end of the bed. He lifts and pulls you towards him. Your legs spread and his hand grips the softness, the other lining his cock with your entrance.

“Ready?”

“If you don’t get in me right now, so help me God-“

Your complaints cease as Heeseung pushes into you, his cock stretching you out so well. His hips meet your pelvis and he leans down to cover your mouth with his own. Sobbing into his mouth, Heeseung’s tongue slips in to swipe against your teeth.

“Fuck!” Heeseung groans and rolls his hips. His cock feels suffocated, wet and warmth surrounding it driving him insane. Your walls were practically sucking him in, trying to milk him of all his cum.

Nails dig into Heeseung’s hands as he starts inching out. Your face was screwed up in pleasure, jaw slack and sweat beading at your forehead. Two orgasms in and your body was thrumming. The need to be filled and stuffed full of Heeseung’s cum, your body was practically calling out for it.

Relaxing into the steady pace Heeseung sets, your body goes lax after a few moments. This lets him pull out with ease. Lets him set a newer, faster pace.

Heeseung pulls out leaving only the tip resting at your entrance, head tilting up to see your face, “Feels good, baby? My cock making you feel good?”

You couldn’t even formulate a response, head sagging against the pillows as your back arches. Your pussy clenched around nothing as Heeseung strokes his tip against your now swollen clit. Your body felt like it was on fire.

Watching your face crumple in displeasure at the emptiness, Heeseung pushes all the way in again, spurred on by the way your nails dig into his shoulders.

After a particularly hard thrust, Heeseung lets go of your thighs and leans down to capture your lips in a deep kiss - hands cupping your heated cheeks. Your legs wrap around his waist, caging him there.

It’s a miraculous feat that you didn’t die right there. Heeseung relentlessly fills you up, pushing a hand up against your lower back forcing it to curve into a delicious arch. His cock pounds into the exact spot that makes you splutter and moan.

“That’s it baby,” Heeseung growls, his voice dipping lower. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Does my pretty girl like it?”

Barely able to say a word, you nod your head weakly a mantra of “yes, yes, yes,” tumbling from your lips. Heeseung revels in it.

He had fucked you completely and utterly dumb.

Leaning back to take in the mess he’s made, Heeseung presses his hand against your lower stomach. The pressure combined with the hard thrusts has your back bend deeper. The new position ensuring that every inch of Heeseung’s length was penetrating your walls, leaving nothing untouched.

The thought alone had you succumbing to the overwhelming pleasure. Your pussy tightening around his thick length, making it difficult for Heeseung to move. And yet he kept pounding into you. Never once letting up as your body trembled through your third orgasm of the night.

“Fuck,” Heeseung moans, his hips continue to slap against you, driving his cock deeper. “I’m gonna cum, baby.”

It was all the warning you got before his hips still, burying deep within you and you physically feel his cock pulse at he fills you to the brim. You felt so full. His head tucked into your neck breathing deep as his body laid lax in your hold. You continue to roll your hips, making him whimper.

Your panting, sweaty bodies lay over one with your and hands clasped. You pepper kisses along Heeseung’s neck, while he runs his hands softly up and down your sides.

You feel floaty as Heeseung pulls out of you, turning onto his side and bringing you in. You snuggle into his arms, and groan at the sticky feeling between your legs, of Heeseung’s cum leaking down your thighs.

“Happy birthday, baby.”

[northopalshore]

Rising Signs in the MC persona chart

The rising sign in your Midheaven Persona Chart represents the way you are seen in your career or in your public life.

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊

How to find MC persona chart?

In the signs & degrees

Aries 1°, 13°, 25°:

You are seen as someone who is very honest, direct, stubborn and passionate. You might also be seen as a competitive or a very significant opponent. People will be especially judgmental with you.

Taurus 2°, 14°, 26°:

You are seen as very elegant, patient, friendly and lovely. You will also tend to be seen as a loverboy/girl that's down to earth. You could also be seen as stubborn, slow, or lazy.

ex: Lisa has Taurus rising (12° pisces) in her MC persona chart. She's seen as someone very friendly and relatable but also elegant and untouchable. (information from astrotheme, could be unreliable)

Gemini 3°, 15°, 27°:

You are seen as someone very quick witted and talkative. You are also seen as friendly and open minded. Some people might see you as fake or "loud"/annoying however.

ex: Cardi B has her MC PC rising in Cancer (27° gemini). She's seen as someone talkative, loud and very vocally genuine with her feelings. She's known to not hide how she feels with her audience. A lot of people empathize with her backstory. She's also great at conveying her feelings and frustration through rap/talking, writing.

Cancer 4°, 16°, 28°:

You are seen as someone very innocent or someone that needs to be protected. People could find comfort in your presence. You could also be seen as someone soft, genuine and emotional. On the downside, people could assume you are immature or too emotional.

ex: Jungkook has a Cancer rising (22° capricorn) in his MC persona chart.He's known as the youngest of BTS and people tend to mother/baby him well until now.

I also have this lol. My rising is Cancer (28° cancer) in the MC Persona Chart. Well, I think this one will unfold itself eventually so I won't write it here.

Leo 5°, 17°, 29°:

You're seen as a showstopper, someone with a big presence. The one to turn heads when they enter the room. People will see you as someone popular and talented. On the downside people can think you are somebody attention depraved or a pick me even when you aren't.

ex: Megan Fox has Leo rising (20° scorpio) in her MC persona chart. It's Megan Fox girl, no explanation needed.

Virgo 6°, 18°:

You are seen as someone practical, analytical and mature. People could see you as reliable and careful. You are usually used as a reference point for everyone else. People will also be very critical of you or think you are too judgy or harsh.

ex: Ex-US President Obama has Virgo rising (4° cancer). People see him as a very calm, rational person who is down to earth and connected to the people.

Libra 7°, 19°:

You are seen as someone flirty, beautiful and charming. Many people will be stricken by the way you look and dress. You are seen as fair and nonjudgmental. You could also be seen as petty, shallow or fake however.

Scorpio 8°, 20°:

You are seen as a baddie lol. A savage, ruthless and threatening. Your presence will likely be very impactful for those around you. People tend to judge you a lot however, you could attract a lot of hate just for existing in the public light.

ex: Megan thee Stallion has Scorpio rising (22° capricorn) in her MC persona chart. She's seen as someone savage, s*xual, hardworking and revolutionary i.e she's well known for being a weeb while being a rapper which wasn't as commonly addressed in the industry.

Sagittarius 9°, 21°:

You're seen as someone very friendly and relatable. People will think you're funny and witty, but also wiser than you'd first appear as. You could also be seen as rather preachy or have some sort of god complex.

ex: Billie Eilish has Sagittarius rising (9° sagittarius) in her MC persona chart. She's seen as relatable and opinionated, but super friendly and funny.

Capricorn 10°, 22° :

You could be seen as untouchable or unapproachable but hardworking and loyal. People may think that you are very serious or strict, not someone who would be tolerant of mistakes. People could think you're cold or very dominant at first.

Aquarius 11°, 23°:

You are seen as an independent person. Someone with zany antics and unconventional ideas or appeal. You will also be seen as rebellious and revolutionary. People might have their opinion about you (whether good or bad), because of the same traits mentioned.

Pisces 12°, 24°:

You are seen as ethereal, kind, passive, dreamy and soft. People will be drawn to you spiritually and they might even put you on a pedestal. You might also be seen as unrealistic or unreliable at times. You could also be seen as delusional.

ex: Ariana Grande has Pisces rising (11° aquarius). Many people idolise her in her career, seeing her as emotional and unparalleled to other artists. Innocent and almost untouchable. Her music is seen as revolutionary and unique (as she combines multiple styles to create her signature style).

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊

*** entertainment only, reader discretion is advised***

Thank you for reading ♡

@northopalshore

[razzle-n-dazzle]

saw u wanted more Adam fics

Adam x f!reader

reader is trying to sleep but Adam keeps trying to show her and tell her stuff. “Like babe hey babe look at this!”

“Babe babe wait did I tell you?”

“Babe holy shit wait guess what!!”

*meanwhile she screams into her pillow*

ᯓ★ "Adam, Love, SHUT THE F-" Adam / Reader | Drabble-ish

ᯓ Do you know those days where you just need a little piece and quiet? Like after a long day of work, where your boss was being unreasonable and your coworkers were being even more unbearable than usual. A long day when you go out to eat for lunch and yet the place you decide to go is busy more than usual, and of course it's on the one day you just wanted an easy meal, so you decide to sit and wait. What is the harm of that? Apparently, a lot. Especially when everyone has a stick shoved up their ass today, and when running over your lunch would have been understood and excused any day sparked a fire from Hell in Heaven. And it was only my five minutes! You were late to the office by five minutes despite having been sitting, waiting for lunch for twenty out of your thirty allotted minutes, and doing work to be ahead of schedule for your boss! You were late by five minutes because the sidewalks had been unreasonably crowded for that time of day and you had sprained your wing rushing not to be late earlier that morning because your boyfriend wanted to be up your ass for an extra five minutes this morning!

ᯓ Safe to say you just proved that there could be bad days in Heaven, no matter what anyone else said and you desperately needed a nap. Or maybe you just needed to knock out for the rest of the day, you weren't sure, all you knew was that your bed was calling your name and that was the only thing on your mind right now. Well, it had been the only thing on your mind until you stepped foot into your shared apartment. "Oh perfect fucking timing, Sugartits, come here!" Adam, with an obnoxious amount of energy today, waved you down to the couch. "Hurry up! You know I love to see that ass move when it walks, but this is super fucking important." And what could entertaining your boyfriend before you went and knockout for the rest of the night do? You mean, it was only thing he wanted to show you.

ᯓ "Fucking, look. Look!" Adam exclaimed as you heavily sat down next to him, allowing for him to cheekily swing an arm around your shoulder. This promptly led him to lean against you as he stuck his phone out, a video pulled up. You watched it to entertain him and his little fancy for whatever he had found; Being able to snuggle into his side in the process and listen to his hysterical laughter during the whole venture. It wasn't nothing too exciting, some sort of slapstick humor video and you understood why Adam found it hilarious, but you just didn't have the energy to laugh at it today. So you gave him a small chuckle as his arm found itself crossing down your back and wrapping around your hip, his hand resting on your thigh. "Oh fucking shit! You see, now that shit if fucking humor, comedy gold!" You needed whatever acid trip Adam was on and desperately.

ᯓ You would hum briefly in agreement towards his statement, feeling as his chest quickly rose and fall as he choked out laughter. Even with such motions you couldn't help but be drawn in by his warmth, snuggling closer to him. And you're sure he noticed, as he was sneakily trying to coax you more and more, using the hand that now was daringly close to your ass, to sit on his lap. Against his harsher, more lively breath, yours was slower and shallow, and as Adam managed to get you to snuggle up to his chest while on his lap, he took notice. It was hard to not to, especially when the sound of you not laughing with him just hit his ears. So confused, Adam would pear down at you. A few nervous bits of laughter left him, a silent signal for you to take notice of how he noticed your odd behavior, yet he died down as you didn't seem to notice (or care) much. Which caused his eyes to narrow and his eyebrows to frown up, a worried frown tugging onto the side of his lips. "Uh, Babe, you good?" His question was accompted by his gravely voice, which was now lower in volume and a lot less sure of himself. "You didn't fucking laugh at the video."

ᯓ "You do know this is comedy gold right? Gold! Not laughing at it would be a fucking crime." Adam would wave his cellphone near your face, flashing you with the bright light which caused you to promptly turn your head away from him. He noticed as your face scrunched, yet you didn't use your wings or hands to knock the phone out of his hand like usual. And that's when he really started to become concern. You weren't acting as you normally would with him, you weren't laughing at the videos he founded or retorting to his antics with your own. You were just laying there, curled up onto his lap with droopy wings and a weak hold around his chest. "Holy shit, Babe, you're not dying are you?" Was the first thing that blurted out of Adam's mouth, being the first thing thought that crossed his head as finally took a real notice of how bad of a state you're in. How the feathers on your wings seemed all out of sorts, how one wing was a little more puffed than the other, how eyebags had began to form under your eyes, and just how tired and weak you looked.

ᯓ "...and you're not getting fucking ugly either are you? It's not contagious is it? Because I can't be fucking ug-" You were swift to cut Adam off, pressing one of your hands against his mouth to muffle any more stupid shit he had to say in this moment. To which Adam drew back a little and started down at you, a moment of shock before unamusement crossed his face. He was gentle, more so than usual, as he picked up your hand by the wrist and drug it away from his mouth. Though he didn't say anything for a good moment, silently (and a little anxiously) waiting to see if you would say anything to him. And maybe it was the nerves on being the on the battle field too many times, or the anxiety of losing another lover, but Adam grew more and more disturbed at your lack of communication or movement the longer the silence wore on. "Babe," He gently nudged you, watching as you just let yourself roll back into place. You didn't even give a hum that time. Now Adam could feel his stomach doing little backflips. "Babe." This one came out a bit more stern as he nudged you a little harder. Yet, you only rolled back into place, not acknowledging his efforts on trying to make sure you weren't dying. Were you fucking dying? Holy shit, that would not be something Adam would want to go through today. "Babe! Sugartits!" Adam shouted, forcefully shoving you away from his warmth by the shoulders, "Please fucking tell me you're not about to die on me because that would be really fucking traumatic!.. If you're going to die at least do it in like, the bedroom or something!"

ᯓ You knew Adam didn't mean it, that he was just trying to stir a reaction out of you to make sure you were alright, yet his comment kind of pissed you off. Less so than when he forcefully drew you away from your only source of heat and comfort from the cruel reality you had to live today. So, reluctantly, you gave our a murmur, "...tired... shut up.." and forcefully tried to lay against Adam again; Trying to just take a small nap, or simply hide from the day you had today in your boyfriend's arms and warmth. Even if one of his hands had been resting on your ass. "Babe, you can't be fucking tired, it's not even dinner. Who the fuck is going to cook because last time I fucking remember you telling me I couldn't." Adam asked in a huff, though was silently relieved that you weren't just about to die in his arms like some dramatic soap opera. So, he let you lay back against his chest. It felt nice to have your weight there anyways. "Adam... shush.." Again, you tried to hush your rather obnoxious boyfriend, even for a little. And you knew he knew that you were tired, on the verge of passing out; It was a dead give away when he fluffed out his wings and wrapped them around you, noticing had dead you felt against him.

ᯓ "But you're still fucking making dinner though, right?" He would quip, a snicker growing on his dumb face as he leaned down to the side, promptly laying you both down. Now you knew he was just being a dick about it, that or he was just glad that you weren't silently suffering and dying against his chest. But either way, you were going to leave his question unanswered as you buried his head against his chest. No matter how much shit Adam might give you, you always found comfort in his warmth and with him being near. It was kind of like having an annoying dog that looked and sounded all tough and scary and was sometimes a big dick, but secretly cared about you under all the gunk. "Fuck it, I'll just order in." Adam muttered, placing his chin on the top of your head (having to curl around you a little to do so) as you were sure he began to pull up menus of restaurants nearby that delivered. And as you drifted off to sleep, you liked to believe he did so, so you didn't have to worry about cooking when you woke up. But you knew that was only half the truth, the other half was that he was probably craving those lamb chops he absolutely adores. And you were fine with that.

Home | Masterlist

ᯓ★ All posts/fanfictions posted under this blog is owned by @razzle-n-dazzle. Please do not steal, copy, or plagiarize the works! Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated.

[punksocks]

Astrology Observations No.27:

*just based on my observations, pleas only take what resonates

(Trying to write more posts and answer more asks lately, everything has been so busy omg- hope you all enjoy what I can put out there tho! c:)

-A perspective but I think Libra placements (big 6 but especially Venus and mars) are attracted to harmonious/balanced appearances, like I think having that glow from confidence in your aesthetic and it fitting you and things like that can make you just as attractive to Libra placements as conventional measurements of beauty

-Sun Conjunct Venus makes you really charismatic and you probably attract a lot of people by being yourself, and sometimes these natives can be people pleasers especially if they’re trying to impress others

-Quietly I associate your mars sign and your MC the most with the work you’ll do. Mars because you can’t divorce your passion from your work (says the Capricorn). And MC because it’s what you’re known for and that’s often tied to some sort of work/action. North node is tied in there too but it plays out so long term it can be harder to summarize. (I can do a post about the general fields that placements tend to go towards if folks are interested?)

-Aries and Sagittarius Mercury tied for most likely to accidentally blurt out your secrets

-Chiron Venus aspects (especially square, opposition, and conjunction) may find themselves undoing a lot of pressure around their looks or being especially hard on themselves over their perceived flaws/imperfections

-The sign over your 5th house may denote if you have many or few casual romantic connections (Saturn/Capricorn pointing to fewer one end of the scale and Jupiter/Sagittarius pointing to many at the other end of the scale, depends on Venus and mars too)

-You may find yourself accidentally pouring your heart out to water moons (especially cancer over how emotionally in-tune they are and scorpio over traaaaumaaa oml)

-I feel like Sagittarius can feel less mutable because Jupiter makes some of the forms of expression so big (ex. A Sagittarius Mars can get so mad at you and blow up, Sagittarius Mars/Venus typically date many partners, Sagittarius moons can express their emotions in a big way- I probably feel this way bc I’m Sag Pluto, the extremes lol)

-I’ve noticed that Venus dominants can seek more attention compared to like Leo/sun doms

-Fixed Venus can become codependent on their partner, putting heavy exceptions on their person for them to be their everything if underdeveloped— but if developed they can be very loyal to their person

-Mutable Venus aren’t quite commitment-phobic but they tend to be looking for a really special combination of traits to actually settle down with (when they’re monogamous), otherwise they get distracted very easily (or they treat their romantic options, and sometimes friends, like very temporary things- for better or for worse)

-Cardinal Venus are most likely to really go after what they want romantically, I think out of all the Venus modalities they have the most accurate idea of what they want at heart, from the start. But on the shadow side of this, they may be manipulative or try to conform their partner into what they want. (may play out differently for moon opposition/square Venus)

-I feel like where ever Venus is heavy in your chart may be how people assume you’re gracious but in a somewhat shallow way (ex. Venus conjunct mercury, people may find your voice and expression charming but assume you’re not that smart)

-Venus/Saturn aspects/ Capricorn Venus tend to have a lot of unrequited love interests and crushes that don’t reciprocate their affections when they’re younger but as they get older they tend to get the most affection from suitors that are older than them (be careful out here! Sometimes these old folks don’t know anything and they have bad intentions- girl when I say I had to take my own advice)

-Leos (big 3, especially sun & Asc) often know the right thing to say to charm you, it’s like when they want to they hit that sweetspot dead on. So do Libra’s (big 3) but they tend to approach things less directly, like compliments that really sit with you and come onto you in quieter, sometimes less serious way (if they have both in their big 3 then they’re just -a charmer- and idk I take that at face value 80% of the time lol but I’m a skeptic)

-I find that Pisces and Sagittarius placements (big 6 but especially sun for identity and moon for emotionality) often get VERY into spirituality at some point in their lives

-People with Jupiter in Virgo tend to work very diligently, almost too hard sometimes and they can be prone to burning themselves out from this behavior (something something don’t burn the candle at both ends- hypocritical from a Jupiter in Capricorn person lol but still)

-We talk about how Scorpio placements observe every detail about you, but I like Pisces placements (big 6 but especially sun, moon, Venus, and mars) have told me things about myself and habits I have that I’ve never noticed about myself. They’re super observant they notice a lot. I think they have this in common with their sister sign, Virgo. But I noticed Pisces will use their intuition in their observations instead of just analyzing. (I.e. you do x when you’re angry, is it because you feel defensive? Or I noticed you light up when you talked about him, you must really like him)- can also apply to Neptune Conjunct your big 3 (especially moon), and big 3 in 12th but it’s a bit more second nature to them than Pisces

-The season of your Venus sign is the time you’re most likely to indulge in self care and purchases for yourself (Sag season started and all of a sudden I was like I need makeup now, even though I hardly wear it in the winter lol)

-The season of your mars is the time you’re most like to take major actions (starting a business, going on solo adventures, etc)

-The season of your sun is when you’re most likely going to receive the most public recognition (also when the sun is transiting your MC/10th house)

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 7

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6

Robin’s been keeping her eyes peeled, and things have only gotten weirder.

Chrissy and Steve are still tied at the hip, still holding hands sometimes in the halls, she’s still wearing his letterman jacket any chance she gets. It all screams perfect textbook couple destined to win prom king and queen in a few months and pop out boring babies with glorious hair a few years later.

Except, she’s seen Chrissy leave two more notes in Eddie’s locker, has seen her and Steve pick up random books out of the library and pull envelopes out of them. She’d think the pair were pulling some sort of horrible prank on Eddie, if Chrissy wasn’t so goddamn nice.

And she’s seen Steve staring down the other boy, more caught in Eddie’s pull then even Chrissy is. It’s like he’s trying to melt Eddie’s eyeballs straight out of his skull with the force of his gaze. For his part, Eddie never even seems to notice.

That’s not even mentioning whatever the hell had happened in the cafeteria last week when Eddie had kissed Chrissy’s hand, and then Steve had whisked her away before Jason could start some sort of pissing contest.

Even the band nerds were all atwitter with that development.

And then there’s the other guy: Jeff.

Before this whole cluster of a situation, she hadn’t known Jeff from Adam, but now he’s everywhere. It feels like every other day now he’s climbing into Chrissy’s passenger seat and they’re speeding away, not a Steve Harrington or Eddie Munson in sight.

Or they’re in the library doing the same mail pick-up that Chrissy and Steve do together. Once, Robin had even seen Jeff by her side as she’d dropped a note into Eddie’s locker, which might be the wildest part of the whole situation; Robin had been under the impression that he and Eddie were friends.

There’s some benefits to being invisible: no one notices her.

So, she’s got all these building blocks to the juiciest gossip in Hawkins High for probably decades, but, no matter how she stacks them together, she can’t make them into a picture she understands.

All she knows is this: Steve Harrington is up to something shady.

Robin’s got her eyes open and a mission of the heart. She’ll protect Chrissy with all she has, and if Steve gets caught in the crossfire? That’s fine with her.

*** 

Chrissy’s still all over Harrington. He doesn’t get it, can’t comprehend why someone who leaves him such lovely, lovely notes has stuck herself to that douche’s side.

Eddie doesn’t get it.

Is it the status bump? No, can’t be, even Eddie knows the guy’s fallen a few pegs down the ladder since whatever the hell had happened with Wheeler last year.

Maybe it’s the looks? He’s got that swoopy hair all the girls fawn over, and the features to back it up. But Chrissy’s never struck him as that shallow, no matter how hot the guy is.

Is it the money, the car, the nice clothes? What does Steve Harrington have that Eddie doesn’t?

Is it the way he leans up against lockers, smiling at every girl in his sight like they’re his whole world? The way he tucks a lock of hair behind their ears, eyes smoldering, touch gentle? Steve goddamn Harrington with his jockish good looks and sweeping charms. 

He just—doesn’t get it.

He also doesn’t get why he hasn’t received a note in his locker for a couple days now, not since Eddie’d come up to her table in the cafeteria and kissed her hand.

Her nails had been painted a perfect pink, and when Eddie looked away to stare Harrington down, he’d noticed the guy had nail polish on, too: a bright yellow that would have suited him if it wasn’t chipped to hell.

It was such a small, incongruous detail, but it niggles at Eddie late into the night. It doesn’t fit with who Eddie knows Harrington to be. 

It didn’t fit, and he’s tired of nothing fitting together the way it should, so he’s been avoiding Harrington like the plague.

So, when he catches Chrissy in a rare moment where Steve’s not loitering in her periphery, he approaches again, hands raised like, see here, I’m harmless!

She smiles at him, white teeth damn-near glinting where they peek out from behind her lips. Eddie’s reciting sonnets in his head.

“Miss Cunningham,” he says, bending over at the waist and bowing low as she laughs at him. “Would you give this lowly Dungeon Master the honor, nay the privilege, of accompanying him on his quest this Thursday?”

Chrissy’s head’s tilted to the side like an inquisitive dog as she asks, “in plain English?”

He bounces closer, pleased to have even gotten his foot in the door. “My Dungeons and Dragons club is starting a new campaign tomorrow,” he says. “Want to come play?” When she purses her lips instead of answering, he scrambles to continue. “Or even just watch?”

Chrissy’s lips are still pursed, but she’s nodding slowly, like she’s thinking about saying yes. “That might be fine,” she replies. “Where should I meet you?”

And that’s how he finds himself with Chrissy Cunningham sitting in at the next Hellfire session. Gareth’s awkward because he always is when there’s a pretty girl in his vicinity, but Jeff smiles and chats with her like they’re old friends. Doug doesn’t seem to care one way or another, too focused on getting the newest campaign started to care about an interloper.

It goes off without a hitch, Chrissy’s presence blending into the background. He forgets her entirely until the end of the session when she starts slinging questions at them, and Jeff starts patiently explaining what a modifier is, and how they know which dice to roll as Eddie packs up his supplies. 

He’s got grand ideas about taking Chrissy home, had even cleaned out his van for it, but Chrissy was always destined to pop his ego.

“That was great, Eddie!” Chrissy cuts in, barely waiting for the party to finish celebrating to speak. “But, I’m already late to meet Steve, so I’ve got to go.”

“Uh,” Eddie says, staring at her retreating back, “okay.”

She turns back around right before she’s through the drama room door, still smiling as she calls, “see you guys next week!”

She’s going to see Harrington, the bane of Eddie’s current existence, but she did say it was great. No, she’d said Eddie was great.

Truly a mixed bag.

Eddie takes his time wrangling the boys out of the room and into his van, determined to hold onto the high of Chrissy Cunningham watching him DM—no way would he let Harrington of all people ruin his night.

*** 

She damn-near runs out of the drama room, lie leaving a bitter taste on her tongue—she’s not late to meet Steve, isn’t planning to see him at all.

It’s just, she knows what that gleam in a boy’s eyes means; Eddie was about to do something stupid. Ask her out, or try to flirt, or do something else both embarrassing and heart-crushing for Steve.

So, she’d done what she’s best at in uncomfortable situations: she’d lied.

Now, she’s just gotta get out of the school before anyone can call her on it.

The school’s eerily empty, the fluorescent lights only on in patchy segments, luring all the lingering students into the poorly-lit parking lot where Chrissy’s car waits. She just wants to get into her bed and wait until she can debrief with Steve in the morning.

She’s just twisted the key in the lock and begun pulling it open when a hand reaches past her and slams it closed. Chrissy jumps, fear coiling through her stomach and rapidly churning into anger. She turns, back to her car, ready to curse out Eddie or one of his other club members, but the words die unsaid in her throat.

It’s not Eddie; it’s Jason. His hand’s still slapped onto her door, keeping it closed, and in the dim light of the parking lot, his eyes are almost glowing. She wants to take a step back, but he’s effectively boxed her into the side of her own car.

“Are you serious, Chris?” he asks. The nickname sounds wrong in his mouth, all toxic and chopped up. Not at all like when Steve says it. “You really are hanging out with freaks now?”

“Jason, I—” Chrissy starts, hating the way her voice trembles.

“Are you sleeping with that freak now, too?” he demands, crowding farther into her space. “Harrington was one thing, but Munson?”

He says Eddie’s name like it’s a curse. She’s scared, still, but suddenly she’s furious that she wasted years of her life with this douche, that she’s still wasting time being afraid of him.

“He’s better than you’ll ever be,” she snarls, unsure if she means Steve or Eddie. It doesn’t matter, it’s true for both.

Without wasting another word on the jackass who’s made it his mission in life to make her feel small, Chrissy yanks her door open. It hits him in the face, sending him stumbling to the asphalt with a groan.

Even still, she rushes to slide into her car, ramming the key in and backing out without even checking her blind spots for unsuspecting pedestrians.

Jason’s just making his way back to his feet when she glances into her rear-view mirror before turning out of the parking lot and onto the street.

Her hands shake on the steering wheel making the car jerk about.

She doesn’t go home.

All the lights are on in the Harrington house, and she worries for a second that his parents are home for once before she sees the solitary car in the driveway. She parks behind it, taking the extra minute to line her car up perfectly parallel to it, hoping her hands will stop shaking by the time she’s done.

Steve’s waiting on the stoop by the time she makes it out of her car and up the driveway, hands still shaking with aftershocks of flight or fight. His arms are crossed, and he’s scowling down at her from his casual lean against the closed door.

“Will you come to Hellfire with me next Thursday?” she asks, voice wobbling around the request.

“Was it that bad?” Steve asks, scowl shifting into a teasing smile before she steps into the halo of the porch’s light and he catches sight of the expression on her face. “Are you okay?”

His hands are on her shoulders, warm and grounding against the chill that’s seeped into her skin. She reaches one of her hands up to brush the wetness from beneath her eyes. “Will you come?” she asks again, question firming up and sharpening now that she’s here, safe.

Steve’s hands squeeze, warm, warm, warm. “Course, Chris,” he replies, and she was right—it is better coming from his mouth. “Want to come in?”

She follows him into the house, curling herself up small in the corner of his couch, relieved when he sits close. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t rush her at all, just waits, patient the way Jason never was.

“You’re a great fake boyfriend, you know,” she says, smiling when he laughs and knocks their shoulders together.

“Well, as your fake boyfriend, do I need to kill Eddie?” he asks, and when she looks up from her knees, his eyes are almost shining with sincerity. “Because I will, you know.”

“I know,” she says, cheeks warming, not because she likes a boy, but because she has a friend, a real one who would pick her even over his crush. “But, Eddie was nice.”

Steve hums, slumping into her further. “So, who am I killing?”

“No one!” Chrissy replies, laughing just a little. Steve’s just like a dog with a bone; she’s always been a dog person. “Or Jason, maybe?”

“What?” Steve barks, all playfulness gone from his voice. “What the hell did he—”

“He didn’t do anything!” she rushes out, making space between their bodies so she can meet his heated gaze. “He just freaked me out.”

“But, he can’t—”

“But, you’re a good friend, and will come to Hellfire next week to keep it from happening again, right?”

Steve groans, slumping back into her and hiding his face in her hair. “You’re the worst,” he grumbles, only continuing when she pinches him hard right beneath his ribs. “But, fine! I’ll go!”

“Thank you,” Chrissy replies, glad she hadn’t gone home to recover alone.

Steve rubs his face against her head like the freak he secretly is. “Anytime.”

They stay there, bathed in the quiet of their shared companionship and the frankly alarming number of lights Steve has lighting up his entire house.

She’s almost dozed off, slumped into his side when Steve asks, “but, like, how was it?”

She laughs, body shaking with delight instead of fear this time as she replies, “Eddie Munson is such a nerd.”

PART 8

[greenglowinspooks]

(DCxDP) The obligations of a rogue versus those of a parent (Pt. 4)

—

Tw: descriptions of body horror, Dr. Crane has PTSD and Does Not Realize, Crane has an actual panic attack and just doesn’t care, the Riddler makes one (1) sex joke about Batman

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually

(Pt. 1 here) (Prev here) - (Pt. 5 here)

(Masterlist here)

—

Dr. Jonathan Crane is in his lab, the acrid scent of chemicals filling the air, and his hands are shaking.

Danny’s health, for the first week that he had him, had been steadily improving at an extremely quick rate. However, his healing had begun to stagnate. Danny said that it was because his body had run out of ectoplasm, and that while there was a lot of ambient ectoplasm in Gotham, he needed a stronger type in order to heal.

And so, that led Dr. Crane here.

He had stolen the research notes from the Penguin years ago regarding his experimentation on him.

(He quite vividly remembers the sound of bone creaking and groaning as it twisted, lengthened. The squelching of shifting tendons and muscles, the strange fabric-like tightening of skin. The feeling of going from man to monster, of losing all claim to his humanity.)

Danny had called him Liminal, part ghost. He had said that he was transformed by, among other things, a kind of synthetic ectoplasm.

Danny needed ectoplasm.

Crane had the research notes. He had every ingredient necessary. And yet, attempt after attempt failed.

The chemical smell burns his nose. His hands tremble.

Dr. Crane is not afraid.

He doesn’t feel fear anymore. He’s tried to, many, many times, but nothing has worked. And yet, his hands are shaking still.

(The horrifying sensation of vertebrae pop-pop-popping along his spine, growing and lengthening. The unbearable itching beneath his skin as toxin glands begin to form. The feeling of his teeth sharpening and elongating, of his skull growing, of his vision changing and brightening. The awful stench of chemicals. The awful stench of ectoplasm.)

Jonathan takes careful note of his shaking hands, his blurring vision, his accelerated heart-rate and shallow breathing.

(Human hands. Human vision. Human heart and lungs and organs.)

He takes note of them, but he does not let that distract him from the task at hand. Danny is not a chemist, but Jonathan is.

The boy knows enough about chemistry in theory, but he won’t go anywhere near Crane’s equipment. He seems to have some sort of intense fear of laboratory settings, probably developed during his stay with the GiW, and Crane is willing to respect that, if only because he cannot afford to lose him.

As such, Crane is the only one qualified to do this. And, unfortunately, if he isn’t successful the boy may very well die.

He heats the chemicals to precisely the right temperatures, adding each one to its correct container.

Dr. Crane thinks of the Scarebeast, that creature born of cruelty and greed and a sense of superiority. That creature which he tries to ignore is a part of him, that can never be removed. A damage which cannot be undone.

He pours the contents of a small beaker into a larger flask, watching the liquids swirl together. The stench in the air is becoming closer and closer to the one burned into his memory.

Crane’s whole body is wracked with unpleasant sensations. It’s truly unfortunate, he thinks, that despite his mind’s lack of fear, his body still reacts so harshly.

Jonathan’s eyes wander, eventually settling on a purple and green card sitting innocently on the corner of the table.

Right.

Even if they wiped out the GiW tomorrow, and even if Danny could survive without ectoplasm, he would still be in danger.

Crane has to get him back to good health. It’s the only way he can be sure that the boy can defend himself properly.

The solution in the flask begins to foam, and Jonathan does not hesitate as he adds the final ingredient. He pours the mixture into a new container, capping it and placing it into a freezer set to -40 degrees.

Hopefully this time he got the timing right.

Jonathan tries to relax, the ventilation in the room slowly but surely clearing the familiar smell from the air.

He thinks of the letter.

Surely, he thinks, that man can come up with some better material for his jokes. Or, at least something new.

Same old threats, same old attempted poisoning.

Aiming his threats at Danny, though, that was new. New and utterly unacceptable.

Scarecrow did what he had to.

He doubted that his solution would last forever, of course, as with that man it never did. As such, he would prepare both himself and Danny for the inevitable moment that his choices came back to bite them.

However, for the moment, they were safe. Danny could rest and recover, and Jonathan could figure out a plan to minimize possible damages.

Jonathan is no longer shaking.

He’s exhausted. This is his fifth attempt today, and each one leaves an unfortunate strain on his mind and body.

With a sigh, he settles himself into his seat at a nearby desk, opening up his computer and logging his most recent attempt. He still has to wait for it to chill to know if it was successful, but he can always update the logs later.

Once he’s done, he stretches, joints popping loudly as he walks to the freezer.

When he sees the results of his tireless work, the ghost of a smile flits across his face.

Success.

Jonathan picks up the jug of ectoplasm and leaves the lab, which is in all actuality the basement of the new apartment that he moved himself and Danny into after receiving the note. The scrappy old woman who was his landlord had told him that as long as he paid her five hundred dollars up front, she would let him set up in the basement without any questions or cop calls.

And so, the most expensive apartment in the Narrows was his.

At least, he thought, the distance between the basement and the apartment was short enough that Danny didn’t have to sit in while he was doing his labwork.

Jonathan knew that he didn’t exactly have a strong grasp on the concept of ‘lab safety,’ proven by his built-up immunity to almost every toxic chemical he’d ever encountered, and he doubted that Danny should be around such an environment.

He was back to the apartment quickly, not bothering to hide the self-satisfied smile on his face. Danny is sitting in his armchair, trying to read one of his books. Danny looks up, ready to greet him, when he sees the jug in his hands and pauses.

“Is that..?”

“Synthetic ectoplasm,” Jonathan says proudly, “I found the Penguin’s research notes and decided to recreate it, since you said that you needed it to heal properly. I’m not sure if it’ll work the same as what you usually have, but I hope it’s helpful all the same.”

Danny is standing, now, and looking at Jonathan with a strange look in his eyes. He looks, Jon thinks, like he’s about to cry.

Then Danny is rushing forward and wrapping his arms around Jonathan, his scrawny form shaking.

Jonathan is, for a moment, horrified. Did he do something wrong somehow? Why is this child, who’s so afraid of touch, hugging him?

And then he hears Danny’s voice, and he knows that it was all worth it.

“Thank you,” he’s mumbling, over and over, “thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you so much.”

“Of course,” Jonathan says softly, because what else can he say?

The boy cries in his arms for a while, and Jonathan briefly wonders what his life must have been like before, if a person like him can be seen as a comforting figure.

Then, Danny pours himself a small glass of the synthetic ectoplasm, putting the rest into the small fridge which had come with the apartment, and he settles back down, sitting in the armchair once again.

Jonathan sits opposite of him, and they chat with one another as Danny drinks.

Danny talks to him about the stars and tells him about different spaceships, and Jonathan makes sure to pay attention and ask the boy questions.

He doesn’t miss the way that Danny lights up every time he asks him something about his interests. He’s so passionate, so smart, a trait that he seldom sees outside of his fellow rogues, and Jonathan wants to encourage that.

It’s…nice. Peaceful, almost.

And then the front door flies open, because Jonathan isn’t allowed to have nice things.

“Jon,” a familiar voice rings out, “what the hell?!”

Danny is frozen in place, clearly terrified.

Jonathan heaves a sigh, turning to face the nuisance who’s entered his apartment.

“Eddie,” he drawls, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Edward’s face is red with anger as he invades Jonathan’s apartment.

“Oh, I don’t know! Maybe it’s the fact that you sent a bunch of rogues a cryptic message and then dropped off the face of the earth for two weeks! I was worried, Jon!”

Jonathan hums in acknowledgement.

“I didn’t think it was that cryptic,” he says, picking up a book in order to pointedly ignore the Riddler.

“Oh, of course you didn’t, you straw-stuffed hickory dickory dickhead. I swear, you’re always—” he pauses, finally having noticed Danny sitting opposite of Jonathan, “—who is this?”

“My apprentice,” Jonathan replies, dreading the upcoming headache he was no doubt going to develop from Edward’s company, “he’s helping me hunt down the GiW. His name is Danny.”

Edward gasps dramatically.

“You—an apprentice?! And you’re letting him sit in the old man chair?! You don’t even let me sit in the old man chair,” he wails, draping himself over the headrest of the couch with a flourish, “Jonathan, I thought I knew you!”

“Edward,” Jonathan says, “get out of my apartment.”

“Oh my goodness, this is incredible. You’re becoming the bat!”

“I am not becoming the bat, Eddie, now get out.”

Edward has a shit-eating grin on his face as he waltzes over to Danny. Danny, who seemed terrified when he first appeared, is now looking at him with obvious amusement written all over his face.

“I mean, look at him! The hair, the eyes, the scrappy build. If you put him in one of those traffic light vigilante costumes, he could easily pass as a Robin!”

“I’m not doing this with you today, Eddie.”

“Riddle me this, Jon: I am a treasure hidden inside of a chest. You can break me, or steal me, or give me a rest. I can flutter, or pound, or attack, or drop, but if you don’t have me, you’re certainly fucked. What am I?”

Jonathan pauses for a moment before he groans, dropping his head into his hands.

“Eddie.”

Danny sits still, a confused look on his face as he repeats the riddle silently. Then, his face lights up in delight.

“A heart!”

“Jon, I like this one,” Edward says with a smile, ruffling Danny’s hair, “you are correct! A heart, something that I wasn’t aware that our dear Jonathan had!”

“Eddie, stop.”

“No, no,” Edward says, “I was worried about you, you deserve this. I mean, you even missed girls night! You never miss girls night!”

“Girls night?” Danny asks, absolutely delighted.

“Oh, of course,” Edward says, sprawling over on the couch, dangerously close to just laying in Jonathan’s lap, “we have it once a week. I’m invited because of Selina and Jon’s invited because Harley likes him.”

“And what does girls night entail, exactly?”

“Eddie,” Jonathan groans, “please.”

“Well,” Edward hums, “we usually paint our nails, or watch a movie, or gossip about the other rogues, and occasionally, we tell each other about any ‘encounters’ we have with Batman,” he says, raising his eyebrows up and down.

Danny’s jaw drops.

“Edward, shut up,” Jonathan says, an irritated tone in his voice that wasn’t there before.

“No way,” Danny says, “I thought that Batman, like, hated you guys or something. You mean he actually..?”

“Oh, the Bat is much like a bottle of liquor or a cheap cigarette, in that he was made to be passed around.”

Danny chokes on air.

“Edward Nygma,” Jonathan hisses, getting out of his seat and looming over the man, “get the hell out.”

Edward pales.

“Leaving, leaving!” Edward says, dashing away from Jonathan. He pauses, turning to flash Danny a quick smile.

“Remember Danny, I’m your favorite uncle! Not any of the other rogues, me!”

With that, he leaves, the room falling completely silent.

And, as per usual, that silence does not last.

“You full-named him?” Danny asks gleefully, “and it worked?”

Jonathan just sighs, sitting down on the couch and rubbing at his temples.

“Please, don’t take anything Eddie says seriously. He’s a moron.”

“Dr. Crane, please let me come to girls night with you,” Danny pleads, his eyes sparkling, “I promise I won’t embarrass you.”

Jonathan groans.

“Of course you won’t, Eddie will do it for you.”

“Come on, please?”

“I think we’re a bit busy with the GiW at the moment,” Jonathan snaps. He pauses as he notices the crestfallen expression on Danny’s face.

This boy is going to be the death of him.

“Perhaps, though, when all that is taken care of…”

Danny cheers, grinning wildly, and Jonathan is not at all relieved to see him happy again. Certainly not.

The rest of the day is relatively normal.

Danny works on trying to get information from the GiW database while Crane refines his his fear toxin, both preparing for a raid on the GiW base they located in Gotham.

It was only a temporary base, nothing of note, but there was a chance of discovering more bases through it, and that wasn’t something either of them were willing to give up.

Still, something like this would take time. Rushing would only lead to failure.

…

Late in the night, long after Danny is fast asleep in his room, Jonathan pauses.

The GiW are not the only threat out there. They aren’t the only threat to him or to Danny. Perhaps it could be helpful to reach out to someone with greater resources than himself.

He sends a quick message to Red Hood.

Hopefully, he thinks, everything will go smoothly.

—

[super-clearlysaltybouquet]

The One With the Blouse (1/2)

Part 1/2

Wolfstar x reader      Sirius Black x reader      Remus Lupin x reader      Sirius Black x Remus Lupin      Sirius Black x reader x Remus Lupin 

Established couple (throuple)

Summary: Reader cares about how people see her, tensions boil over when the group get ready for a Gryffindor party

Warnings:

Angst (argument)

Hurt (and minimal comfort…)

Lots of insecurity, feeling disposable in a relationship

my first fic ever so please be kind…will potentially write a part 2 if people like this one (feedback is welcomed)

word count: 1.8k

Sirius looks so pretty in his white blouse. The silk brings out his dark hair perfectly, and the fabrics warm undertones complimented his pale skin. “Is all the fuss really necessary?” Sirius asked, bothering with the bow neckline of the blouse.

“You want to look good, don’t you?” You respond stiffly, tying, and re-tying the bow, unsatisfied with how it sits around his neck. 

“You forgot to Iron it.”, you say, Tying, untying, re-tying. Completely zeroed in.

“Does it really matter?” Sirius responds, completely exasperated.

Remus watches on from the armchair by his bed. It’s standard routine at this point. Before every common room party, Remus is ready by dinner - always a plain top and trousers, today a white T-shirt with blue jeans. “Very James Dean”, Sirius had said. He's been sitting there entirely patient on the same armchair for the past two hours, reading only half attentively as you and Sirius get ready.

“Sweetheart, the bow is fine”, Remus advises gently. He’s not in a rush, but he can tell that as much as you usually enjoy it, today the up-doing process is stressing you out. 

“No..no, not yet”, you respond absentmindedly, still fixated on Sirius’s blouse. 

Tying, untying, re-tying the bow. Sirius huffs out a humourless laugh and takes a quick step back turning completely away from you. Your hands are still held up, frozen where his neck would be. Your eyebrows furrow, and Remus looks up from his book.

“It’s the same every bloody time!”, Sirius suddenly cries out, you’re completely taken aback. 

“Sirius”, Remus warns.

“Godric, Forgive me! I didn’t iron my fucking blouse!”, he feigns, “You’re suffocated me” he finishes, coldly, glaring daggers straight through you. He’s still so beautiful, with his ebony hair hanging long and dark over his face, but the pit in your stomach is somehow darker. 

Remus is stood to his full height now, book abandoned. “You’re out of line”, his anger still somehow contained. And Sirius has the gall to let out a laugh. The party in the common room seems to have started. You can hear music and laughing below the bluestone floors. You try and divert your focus to that lively sound and take it off the painful bob in your throat. 

“I’m out of line? You’re kidding Moony”, Sirius laughs. his lack of sincerity is incredibly unnerving. “The bitch is vapid”, and your heart nearly stops, you can feel the sick climbing up your throat. Remus is seething, but you’re not sure he knows exactly what to say anyway. 

“What?”, is all you can muster hopelessly. 

Sirius takes a step towards you, and you all seem to move at once. You take one step back at the same time Remus steps between you and the shorter boy.

“Cut it out Sirius”, Remus warns, towering above the both of you with his height, and his domineering demeanour. But Sirius is undeterred.

“You. are. entirely. vapid”, he repeats, now looking over at you past Remus’s shoulder. “you’re just like my mother” he whispers to himself, like some sort of secret revelation, and you just want it all to end. “Completely superficial, shallow, and entirely vapid” he seethes, before turning back away from you again, taking in a slow deep breath. You think you can hear his heart beating nearly just as quick as yours.

Sirius’s accusation sits inside you. You can’t deny that you do like nice things. Your jewellery was all made custom, you shopped at the best boutiques on Diagon Alley, and you kept up appearances. 

Your parents have always been devastatingly high-achieving. You were no stranger to the odd charity gala, or pureblood ball. So, for you that meant endless expectations to live up to. Making sure clothes were ironed, hair was done right and shoes were all polished was just second nature. You pay attention to these things because you have to. Your label as a “washed-up-witch” in Witch Weekly’s coverage of the Macmillan ball in 72 serves as a reminder. Filtered through pre-teen public humiliation, these things stick. As deflated as you felt regarding Sirius’s outburst, you could feel an equal anger bubbling just below the surface. 

“You did not just compare me to your draconian fanatic of a mother”, is the first thing that leaves your lips. Your eyes are wide, and that anger is bubbling over. Yet, your voice is so level that you think you just might have the upper hand. You can tell that Sirius was expecting you to respond with equal fervour, he wanted a fight, and your composure has caught him off guard. You think for a second, maybe he didn’t even mean to hurt you. 

Remus would back you up if you needed him to, but he knows you really don’t need him to. You’d like to say your piece, and he gives your hand a gentle squeeze in support.

“Just because you can afford to reject tradition and expectation doesn’t mean we all have that luxury” you seethe.

Sirius has always had the reputation of a Black Sheep, but it made him shine nevertheless. Every act of rebellion on his part was praised and admired by your peers. But as a woman in the 70s, and the only child in a pureblood family - you were often subject to incomparable scrutiny.

“Maybe I’m too much sometimes” your voice breaks, and the tears have started to flow of their own accord now. Rushing like silent broken faucets, or shower heads. Sirius’s eyes flash with regret. You look up at the ceiling to blink them back, and Remus gives your hand another squeeze, silently shaking his head and biting his tongue. He’s glaring at Sirius with a healthy mixture of disappointment, and something akin to fury.

“I can’t help but care about how I look”, you whisper to no one in particular, “This is usually fun, getting dressed up together”, and Sirius looks completely in despair. That almost cocky, goading aura that surrounded him has been evaporated by your undeniable heartbreak. He’s fidgeting with the hem of the blouse now, and his fingers move hesitantly up to his neckline, where your hands sat only moments ago. He’s palming at the skin there, as it slowly turns pink from the pressure.

“I’m only fussy because I care, Sirius”, you say wavering, lip quivering as your crying takes both your eyes, and your voice. He can’t look you in the eye.

The subtext isn’t missed by either of the boys, you care because you love them. You enjoy dressing them up because you want them to look good and enjoy themselves. To protect them from any anxiety associated with landing on a worst dressed list, even informally among the Gryffindor party-goers three flood below.

You look down at your disco boots, perfect stockings and shift dress. It all feels so silly now, wearing the outfit you picked out three days in advance. You want to crawl out of your skin, and you really don’t feel like dancing. Sirius is still palming at his collarbones, staring with dazed and shallow eyes at his feet and the floor below them. You can’t see his face properly behind his hair, but you know him well enough to think he might be crying too. “I hope you’re proud of yourself Black” Remus chimes in, and you wince at the use of that last name. Remus’s hand rubs small circles around the back of your neck, you can't help but want his hot skin off you.

“I-I didn’t-”, Sirius starts, but you walk from the room with Remus quick at your heels before he can finish. 

The stairway down to the common room is empty, with the party building up below. It’s just you and Remus standing still on the stairs. “You know he didn’t mean that”, Remus says kindly, more for your sake than Sirius’s. He’s brushing the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs, and gently pushing the hair back from around your face. “He gets like this when he’s stressed, it’s not your fault”, he reassures, kissing the top of your head. 

“I stressed him, I should have just let him be”, you whisper, and Remus is silent. This is the first big fight you've had as a couple. You’re a slightly more recent addition to their pairing. Quips and little disagreements have never been an issue. Even when you were all just friends these things were always resolved in a matter of minutes - or a few hours at most, but this is the first time a spat has ended in tears. 

You wonder if this was a mistake. You hope to Godric that Remus isn’t thinking it too. “I think I’ll go to bed”, you say finally, and you can feel him frown. 

“But you were so excited for tonight” he says sadly, more of an acknowledgment, you know he doesn’t mean to change your mind. You’re all hardly in the mood for a party.

“Maybe you and Sirius can still have some fun”, and you hope it doesn’t come across as bitter, but Remus’s solemn expression suggests otherwise, he lets it go.

“I’ll talk to him”, Remus assures, as he molds his body around yours in a much-needed embrace. Having him so close stirs a vulnerability within you, and you’re sure that if you could see his face, you wouldn't have the courage to open your mouth. 

“Maybe we were wrong”, you whisper into his chest, scared. 

Remus is burning 20 degrees hotter.

“What makes you say that?”, he responds measured, but the unease in his voice is palpable. He’s pulled back to look at your face now, and you fidget under his gaze. You give him a look to say without words, ‘are you kidding?’.

“But you know we love you”, Remus says desperately, more of a question than a statement, gripping the sides of your head firmly, so as to say, ‘please believe me’. You just shake your head between his hands. “You heard him, didn’t you?”, you start, “Completely superficial, shallow, and entirely vapid” you quote, and Remus cringes. 

“I’ll talk to him”, he repeats.

“No, no its okay, I’m going to bed”, you say, almost completely defeated by the tidal wave of self-doubt flooding through you.

“Dove-”

“How about you talk to him, and you two can decide what we do from here”, Remus looks heartbroken at the implication.

“Surely you don’t think we don’t want to see you anymore?”, There seems to be something sparkly welling in his eyes too, Godric, what a horrible evening.

You’re so in your head you hardly register Remus’s question. When he goes to pull you close again you take a small step back, your fingers still interlinked. The moonlight shines in through the stained glass, and the sparkle of salt in Remus’s eyes begins to fall. You can hear Diana Ross’s smooth voice echoing off the stone from downstairs, tonight could have gone so differently. You can’t help but feel you’ve caused all this. Whatever animosity Sirius seems to have been harbouring towards you, you’re sure it lives inside Remus too, even if you can’t see it yet. You turn around before you have the chance to look back.

“I’m going to bed”.

[hermitcraftx]

One big problem with Scar's recent tweet (the one stating him and Grian have to avoid each other due to lots of negative feedback) is the sort of unawareness on this website. Yes, CCs certainly don't step foot here nearly as much as other websites, but acting like it's solely a YouTube and Reddit problem is driving me insane.

For the past year most of Trafficblr has been nothing but negativity and complaining towards folks that post Scar and Grian together, complaining that they're overrated and that they're sick of seeing them together. Almost all of the "hot takes" and "discourse" that people post are just whining about how annoying and popular Grian is, and how everything is desert duo, and how they want to see other things.

And I've pointed that out. Several times! Few people listened! Mcytblr confessions is almost entirely negativity, I see rancid takes about Grian alone (not even MENTIONING desert duo or scarian) on a damn near daily basis. I've gotten hate asks saying things along the lines of "of course you post about Grian and Scar" and "I followed you for Joel, not scar". Popular fan artists and bloggers hopping on the hate train, bullying popular fanon concepts and canon concepts, saying they hate the angst, or that it's overrated, or that there's too much shipping and they don't like it anymore. People that like other MCYTers like Zedaph, or Big B, or Tango, or anyone and everyone under the sun all blamed Grian and desert duo for their lack of content and accused Grian fans of not putting enough effort into fandom. Effort! Into fandom! Like it's a requirement and not a hobby you do for fun!

And those exact same people are shocked right now. I'm going to pull you all close when I say this: fandom is supposed to be fun. It is not a job. Nobody is required to like certain things, and that applies to your dislike of Grian and Scar together, true... But the wave of hate the past year or so has been ridiculous. If someone only watches Grian or Scar, that's fine. They don't have to watch anyone else. If they only post about desert duo or scarian it doesn't make them shallow or basic.

If you are genuinely upset by this, please, I beg of you: take a break from fandom. There have always been more popular characters and pairings in fandom. That is a fact of life. If you are genuinely, seething, furiously upset about all the Grian and Scar, or anything in fandom, take a break. You have to remember that the CCs don't have to do this, and they are friends and people too, and the negativity you have towards your fandom make them think you hate it. While it's true the bottom of the barrel dwell in YouTube comments and on Reddit, I see a lot of negativity on Twitter and Tumblr.

Frankly, I'm pissed. And grateful we even have a life series anymore, with all the negative feedback they get on every little aspect of the life series. Let friends be friends, for fuck's sake. And if you feel you MUST post negatively about anything in the life series or group, I suggest you make like the DSMP fandom and add CC! or C! indicators. Someone on Twitter bemoaned they weren't complaining about "fanon scarian, not canon scarian" which I think is a roundabout way of denying they're two separate things. But I digress as that's not what this post is about. The point is is that those same people that were so eager to complain about Scar and Grian being overrated are awfully, awfully quiet now. For shame, do better, and have fun. It's Minecraft YouTube, not a job.

TL;DR: Traffic Twitter and Trafficblr both have problems with hating on Scar and Grian disproportionately and now that it's rearing it's ugly head, they blame YouTube and Reddit to absolve themselves of responsibility. Fandom is supposed to be fun!

[fhroggy]

Apple Rot: MLP Infection AU - Parts 1-6

Moving my infection au over to tumblr from deviantart! All six written parts are included below, hopefully soon I'll get the time to keep working on this lol

Part One: Introduction

It's cider season at Sweet Apple Acres. The apples are ripe, the barrels are ready, and the ponies are thirsty. It's hard work, bucking down the apples and bringing them inside to press into cider, and Applejack is exhausted. It's hot, and the work she usually enjoys has grown tedious in her misery. She brings the last of the apple buckets inside, coat slick with sweat and hooves dirty and sore. She tosses the bushel of apples in with the rest of them, only to notice a strange apple sitting on top. It's a pale, sickly pink, with oozing black spots. She groans. She'll have to toss it, and thoroughly clean the rest of the bushel to avoid any contamination. But she's just so thirsty. She'll just leave for a moment, just long enough to get a glass of water, then come back and sort through it. She leaves the room, promising to herself that she'll be back before Granny Smith and Big Mac start pressing the cider. 

Applejack has barely left the room when Granny Smith and Big Mac come in to get started. They're both excited for cider season, talking back and forth and keeping only half their mind on their work. Without more than a cursory glance at the harvest, the apples are loaded, the cider squeezed into barrels, and the lot ready to drink. Granny Smith, as always, tests each batch before approving it for sale, and though one of the barrels has a strange sweetness she can't quite place, the taste isn't unpleasant, and the barrel goes along with the others outside, where the line of ponies waiting to buy is over the hill and out of sight. One barrel of cider only supplies about fifteen large wooden mugs, and and while it's impossible to tell which customers happened to get the extra-sweet batch, no one complains, and the Apple family considers the day a rousing success, even if Granny Smith had to go inside early since she wasn't feeling well. 

The Apple Rot has begun.

Part Two: Unwell

As the sun goes down at Sweet Apple Acres, Granny Smith seems to feel worse with each passing hour. It started with a stomachache, just a few hours into their big cider sale. A barely uncomfortable twinge in her gut, something she could easily ignore with interesting enough conversation. She was old, sure, but she wasn't frail. As she thought this, the twinge in her gut became a writhe, a rolling boil of pain and sickness that progressed into nausea, nausea which she could control only long enough to run out of sight of the customers, spitting up apple chunks, cider and froth as her cider samplings and breakfast expelled from her. A violent upheaval like that was enough to get her inside for the rest of the day, leaving her always-honest and always-steadfast granddaughter Applejack to hold down the fort. In the back of her mind, as she crawled into bed, was that the poor girl deserved a day off. Perhaps tomorrow, when she was feeling better, she'd surprise the dear thing with some apple fritters and insist on taking her chores for her. She was old, sure, but she wasn't frail. She could handle the farm work for one day, at least.

As the night wears on, Granny Smith starts to get…flashes. Flashes of…something. An urge in her gut, a need to feed- but on what? The very thought of apples, carrots, and oats makes her want to throw up even more- but she's hungry. Her bedroom floor has become a shallow pool of black, bloody bile, and even still, she's so hungry. She paces the wooden floor, hooves squishing in her sick, a steady growl in her stomach and in her throat, neither of which she can control. The door creaks, letting a sliver of light into the pitch dark room. Her darling Apple Bloom stands on the other side, coming to check on her dear old Granny.

Granny Smith knows what she's hungry for.

Part Three: Stone Content Warning for Violence/Gore/Death

As screams fill Sweet Apple Acres, miles away in Ponyville, Pinkie Pie and her family are none the wiser. In between planning their wedding and keeping up with their event schedule, Pinkie Pie and Cheese Sandwich have taken a few days off to welcome Maud into their home while she visits between geological expeditions. She isn't in town often, not since her promotion to Lead Field Researcher, and Pinkie wants to make the trip super-duper special. How lucky it was, then, that Maud would arrive in Ponyville just in time for the Apple family's cider season! Bouncing alongside the ponies she loves most, she took Cheese and Maud to the farm and bought them each a large mug, sipping from her own and pausing when she notices the strange taste on her tongue. It's...not unpleasant, exactly, but it's a little too sweet, even for her. As it slides down her throat, her Pinkie Sense tingles, and she gets the distinct feeling that she should not have swallowed it. But- it's probably fine, right? Cheese has nearly finished his mug, and Maud's is empty- though she doesn't recall seeing her sister drink anything. Maud gives her a look, stern and knowing, and does Pinkie see a little bit of concern in her sister's eyes? She shakes the worry from her mind. It's fine. She's fine. 

Hours later, now, she and Cheese have been throwing up what seems like buckets of cider, frosting and cake. Maud sits quietly as Pinkie and her fiance take turns in the bathroom, though her poor Cheesie is far worse for wear. He's been positively green in the face ever since they got back, and he's been acting...strange. He's twitchy, and he keeps trailing off when he speaks. The way he looks at her, looks at Maud...there's something in his expression that Pinkie can't place, and she doesn't like it. He's been shut in the bathroom for some time at this point, and she knocks on the door, voice sweet and loving. 

"Cheesie? Everything okay in there?"

He doesn't speak, but she can hear a low growl from the other side of the door. It's obvious that he isn't doing well, she needs to take him to Nurse Redheart. She'll have to talk with Applejack about the cider- she loves her friend, but this is ridiculous! It was clearly an off batch, and the Apples should never have put it out for sale. She's disappointed in them, and worried for her fiance. She opens the door, and before she can get a word out, she hits the ground. 

Cheese Sandwich is above her, eyes milky white, bloody yellow-white bile dripping from his lips. He snaps his teeth at her, trying to bite her, and she's screaming and crying and what's wrong with her Cheesie and why is he hurting her makeitstopmakeitstop- 

And then it does. With a heavy thud, Cheese Sandwich hits the ground, dark blood pooling from the back of his head. Maud stands over him, holding the heaviest stone she could manage. For good measure, she hits him again, and again, mashing him until Pinkie has to look away. She drops the stone on top of him once more, looking to Pinkie. They're both splattered with blood, their eyes wide and afraid as they meet each other's gazes. Maud says the only thing she can think to say. 

"I'm sorry, Pinkie."

Part Four: Help

Fluttershy's cottage isn't far from Sweet Apple Acres. She can see it if she really looks, just barely able to make out the outline of the barn against the horizon line. As far out as the Apples are from town, she's even farther, her cottage so remote that only Zecora lives more isolated than her. She likes it that way- she loves her friends, but, she's also a very introverted and private pony, and thrives best when she doesn't have to worry about the way others perceive her. The only company she never truly minds is Discord's, and even he is free-spirited enough that he often disappears for days or weeks at a time. Other ponies might mind the frequent absence, but, to her, it's nice to get the space to herself. She trusts him, loves him, and is glad for the breathing room. 

She's just thinking about how nice it is to have such a quiet night after the hustle and bustle of cider season when she hears a pounding on her door. It's a loud, desperate sound, and to her it sounds as if somepony is beating their entire body against the wooden door, forgoing knocking in favor of trying to take it off its hinges completely. She trembles next to her fireplace, legs quaking as the sound beats and beats and beats...

"Fluttershy! Open the door, please!" A familiar voice calls, and while Fluttershy has a sense of immediate relief knowing that she's not in any danger, the fearful edge in Applejack's voice puts her on guard. She goes to the door and opens it up, taking a step back as her friend nearly collapses at her feet. 

"Applejack? What's wrong?"

Her friend looks up at her, and Fluttershy gasps. 

Applejack is splattered in black bile and blood, and her eyes are wide and fearful. She's never seen a pony look so afraid, and the expression looks foreign on Applejack's face- Applejack is always strong and brave, what in Equestria could have her so meek and desperate that she needs Fluttershy's help? 

"It's Apple Bloom," Applejack wheezes, barely able to get the words out between catching her breath. "Granny- Apple Bloom- something's wrong with Granny Smith, she's," Applejack shakes her head. "Granny Smith has lost her Celestia-forsaken mind. She was feelin' sick, I told Apple Bloom to leave her well enough alone, but she went in and Granny bit her!" Applejack wipes the blood from her cheek, smearing it across her face. The substance is thick and congealed, and Fluttershy notices absently that she recognizes the smell. She's smelled it before, whenever she found hurt and sick animals that were too far gone to save. It's the smell of death. 

Applejack continues. "Granny just- started tryin' to tear into her, Big Mac got Granny off of her but she's bleedin' real bad and Nurse Redheart is too far away," she's crying openly now, tears cutting through streaks of bile and blood and leaving trails down her cheeks. "I know you take care of the animals, stitch 'em up sometimes, please, Fluttershy, she's my baby sister..." 

Fluttershy cuts her off, voice meek but determined. 

"Okay. Take me to her."

Part Five: Feed Content Warning for Violence/Gore/Death

Twilight knows she's somewhat of a workaholic. She's been that way for as long as she can remember, and though making friends did help her balance her life more, that curious, studious streak never fully left her. She's up late, later than she should be, and she's about to call it a night when she hears a loud banging on her castle doors. She groans. She loves helping the citizens of Ponyville, but, well, it's always something with them. She calls to Spike, who's been helping her find and return books as she's been going through them. 

"Spike, do you mind getting the door? I swear, there's always somepony with a problem that needs fixing...You can take them to the throne room, I'll be down in a sec."

With a nod, Spike leaves the library to go down the spiral staircase and receive their guests. It's only a few seconds later that he screams for her, voice so loud and so panicked that she doesn't even bother running downstairs, using her magic to teleport her to the doors instead. 

"Spike? What's wrong?"

He points to their guests, and Twilight turns her head to see Pinkie and Maud are standing in the doorway, both covered in blood, looking positively traumatized. Whatever they've been through must have been absolute hell, and the moment they lock eyes, they both immediately start yelling for her to shut the door, lock the door, keep them out- 

"Them?" She interjects, looking over their shoulders into the Ponyville streets. She supposes it's a little unusual to see ponies up so late- upon closer inspection, the way they walk is a bit odd, too- they're...twitchy. Their movements are stilted and stiff, lacking in the fluidity that most creatures have. One walks into a wall, and then just stands there, face pressed to the brick and hooves shambling forwards as if they're trying to walk through it. 

A cry in the night snaps all of the strange ponies to attention. Lyra bursts out of her home, screaming and crying for help as Bon-Bon gives chase. She doesn't get far. Another strange pony, Twilight thinks it's Junebug, heads her off and tackles her to the ground, biting into the flesh at her shoulder and tearing it from her in bloody chunks. Lyra is screaming and begging for somepony to help her, her eyes follow the light coming from the palace and Twilight swears that they look at each other- Lyra starts to cry out again, shrieking a pleading "Princess-" before Junebug bites into her throat and severs her vocal cords. More of the strange ponies pile on top of her, Bon-Bon bites into her cutie mark, Clover into her side- and all Twilight can do is stand there and watch. As they feed, she hears sobs, she hears muffled and distorted voices speaking around mouthfuls of flesh, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm hungry," wailing and biting and wailing some more. Once Lyra is nothing but a carcass, they finally pull away from her, and as they finally notice the light from the castle and look in her direction, Pinkie and Maud take it upon themselves to shut the doors themselves, locking and barricading it while Twilight's brain screams at her to get herself together and stop being so useless. 

What is happening to everypony?

Part Six: Sorry Content Warning for Violence/Blood

Apple Bloom doesn't feel good at all. Applejack's gone, promising that she would go get help and that Apple Bloom would be okay, she just has to hold on- but Apple Bloom can feel her strength waning. She's trying, trying as hard as she can to stop her mind from swimming in and out of consciousness, and she's trying to keep the pressure on her bandages like Big Mac told her to before he left. He was supposed to stay with her, but the crash from Granny Smith's room had been worrying enough that he'd decided to check on her, promising Apple Bloom that he'd be right back and to just keep holding her hooves down against the wound so that it wouldn't bleed so much. She's pretty sure he's been gone too long, but she's having trouble keeping track of the time. Maybe it really had only been a few minutes. 

Really, the bite wasn't too bad, all on its own. Sure, it needed stitches and wouldn't stop bleeding, and its position on her neck made it hurt to turn her head, but it was just a bite. She'd been injured worse by farm animals, and she'd always been okay then. And for a little while she did seem okay- but then the fever hit her, and she got dizzy and collapsed, Applejack crying out for her as she hit the ground. Now her small body flipped back and forth between overheating and freezing, her coat slick with sweat. And she was getting...weird thoughts. Thoughts she couldn't control, thoughts that scared her. Images of her turning and attacking Big Mac and Applejack, the same way Granny attacked her. She didn't like it. 

She was jolted from her thoughts when her door creaked open, and a high, lilting voice cut through the eerie silence.

"Apple Bloom? We knocked on the door for ages, and no one answered. I hope it's alright we let ourselves in."

Apple Bloom's glazed eyes slide over to the doorway, where Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo are grinning and holding sleeping bags. That's right- they'd agreed to have a sleepover tonight, didn't they? Granny Smith had promised them the last of the cider, and Applejack was going to let her stay up late...in the commotion, they'd all forgotten. She shook her head slowly. 

"Guys, I don't think y'all should be in here. I'm sick, and so is Granny..."

"But you were fine when we saw you earlier," Sweetie Belle cuts in again, approaching the bed. "Maybe you ate something bad? I could get you some water and crackers, that always settles my stomach." She hasn't noticed the bite, with Apple Bloom's hoof over it. She gets closer still, and Apple Bloom squeezes her eyes shut as she gets those weird thoughts again. 

When she looks again, Sweetie Belle is by her side, but she notices that Scootaloo is hanging back in the doorway, looking around nervously. Scootaloo, to her credit, has picked up that something is deeply wrong, her wings twitching as she takes a slow step back. A part of Apple Bloom is relieved. Good, Scootaloo, She thinks, Back up. You'll need the head start. For what, she isn't quite sure. 

Sweetie Belle coos over her, taking on that sugary-sweet caring role that she does when she's trying to be like her big sister. She reaches up to feel Apple Bloom's forehead, and Apple Bloom gets another one of those bad visions. She imagines herself lurching out of bed and biting Sweetie Belle's leg, and when she hears Sweetie Belle scream, she realizes that it wasn't a vision at all. She tastes the coppery blood in her mouth and she's ashamed and afraid but also hungry for more. 

"I'm sorry," Apple Bloom chokes out, eyes wide as she sits up, the bite mark on her neck glistening in the moonlight. "I'm so sorry, Sweetie Belle, I don't know why I did that-"

Sweetie Belle is sobbing now, and Scootaloo just looks at Apple Bloom with wide, terrified eyes, frozen in place with fear. Apple Bloom's limbs are twitching, now, trying to force her out of the bed to finish what she's started, and it's all Apple Bloom can do to hold herself back- though she's unable to stop herself from licking her lips. 

As the screams and cries and apologies fill the house, Apple Bloom can hear a loud thumping and a crash from the far end of the hall, and all the sudden Big Mac is standing there, covered in blood with a shovel in his teeth- a shovel also splattered in blood and black bile. He drops it from his mouth as he takes in the scene, metal clanging against the floor. When he speaks, his voice is heavy and authoritative, and Apple Bloom has never heard him sound so angry and afraid at the same time. 

"Get the hell out of here! Get out of this house and don't y'all ever come back here again!" He yells at the foals, not out of malice but out of concern, and his booming, deep demands have their intended effect as Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo run out of farmhouse and down the road, running home to their warm beds where they can try and forget what they've seen. 

Apple Bloom looks up at Big Mac, and her eyes fill with tears. She has blood smeared around her mouth, and a dark part of her revels in the lingering taste. "I'm so sorry, Big Mac, I don't know what happened, I don't- I'm scared..."

Big Mac looks down at her, his eyes so soft and so sad, and, slowly, he picks up the shovel again. 

[laikabu]

sorry but would you be willing to elaborate on Kabru being a trans allegory? I'm trans myself + a Kabru fan but this never really occurred to me (just thought people made him trans since it's cool)

the whole thing with milsiril and all the doll imagery associated with her as symbolism of how she sees him as a doll she wants to keep and take care of is something a lot of transmascs can relate to. even though he loves her, he does NOT want to go back home to live with her again.

also him needing to mask and adapt his personality to certain people can mean a LOT of things, but you can visualize that a stealth trans guy would want to do this sort of thing for safety reasons

and to the shallower, surface level visual stuff:

he looked very feminine as a child and wore a dress. elf males can wear skirts/dresses, but you can infer that he didn’t like wearing one as you see him wearing shorts as an older child

he’s 170cm(average tallman female height) of course you can say “that doesn’t mean anything” but it’s a funny coincidence, don’t think too much about it.

okay this is just me hypothesizing through the existing text:

you can assume that elves view tallmen as inherently masculine the way dwarves see them as inherently feminine as marcille feels like the actors for the tallman adaptation of the daltian clan don’t fit elf beauty standards, so he didn’t have trouble being seen as a boy while living with milsiril

he spent four years living independently before the story starts. i’m sure he’d have access to masculinizing medicine during that time

of course, this all can be applied to other parts of his character, but there’s nothing that contradicts this headcanon. an allegory doesn’t always have to be intentional after all, but seeing how ryoko kui has made one-shot manga about unambiguously transgender/genderqueer characters, it’s really not impossible to have this reading of him.

obviously, you can still headcanon a character as trans without any “evidence” or even if it’s contradictory with their backstory, but it’s neat how all the puzzle pieces fall into place

[psychicreadsgirl]

Pick a Painting : All about your next s/o

Pick 1 painting that draws you the most and I will tell you whatever I can pick up on your next s/o. If you are drawn to 2, then take a look at both readings. Remember that this is a general reading so not everything will apply. Take what resonates and leave what doesn't behind.

#1

Very easily depressed. Mental health is always a concern - doesn't mean they're bad people. Just that their mental health is particularly weak. Easily defeated and blue. However, they do feel things very deeply. Very emotional people. Very, very sensitive and intuitive - you won't be able to lie to them. It's like they have this 6th sense or can read your mind. Don't even try to lie to them - you'll just be caught. Not even a white lie please with these people - a lie is considered a really big betrayal to them. Though their mental health is weaker than average, they will be able to take bad news too. They aren't THAT weak.

Probably has a very creative or almost genius-like side. Very lost in their own world/sometimes will just go off and do their own thing. When they are focused on sthing, they will give it their all. The type to like not sleep for 2 days just to finish something --could be a video game, artwork, song, dance, Excel spreadsheet, code, math problem, clothing, etc.

Though intuitive - they can be kind of anti-social and don't really like to be around big crowds or people in general. Quite closed in and guarded. Think bc they can see so much of the truth they get really boggled down with that "negativity" or that "ugly" side of ppl that they don't want to be in contact with many ppl.

They have a lot of wisdom and knowledge - might not be like the typical "nerd" feeling, but they just know a lot about things that interest them. Could be some particular history or about some theory or painting or sciences etc.

They are shy with physical affection or don't like it that much. The mental connection is more important to them than the physical one. They may be asexual or some may struggle with their sexuality or sex in general.

#2

Life of the party. Very popular s/o and well liked by others. They probably have had many dating experiences -- might not mean they are a player. They probably don't like really heavy relationships and people who are too clingy.

They are really fun and adventurous. They are very playful and charming. They can be kinda forgetful too. They're warm and will remind you of the sunshine.

They sometimes can be ignorant of the world/others' feelings so can come off as being shallow or dense. They're either very intelligent academically or they do very poorly in school - sort of 2 extremes here.

They're either quite athletic or quite artistic. Generally they do have a decent physique like somehow muscular even if they don't work out much.

They're pretty laidback and overall chill. They definitely have very interesting stories to tell/share. Overall pretty independent people and somehow can make bajillion friends.

Sometimes they might not be the most reliable out there. They can often forget promises and also aren't the most responsible ppl out there. Likely to be late to meetings and dates. They can sometimes even forget to bring their wallet or keys.

#3

They can be kind of arrogant and self-centered. They are very confident of themselves, sometimes overly confident. They gotta be the one that make decisions in the relationship. They have a strong, commanding presence. They have this leadership aura like people just naturally want to follow them.

Likely to be quite successful in their career or comes from wealth. Can be kinda spoiled in some ways and also out of check with reality. Bad at saving money, a big spender in many ways.

A lot of people admire your s/o. They'll likely be quite good looking or charming - something about them that'll make people want to take a 2nd look at them.

They probably will dress quite well or at least in a polished way. Kinda classy or perhaps very street style. Either way they will have decent fashion and care a lot about their appearances. They will want you to also look presentable too, so no sloppy lazy attire when you go out.

They likely are friends with people of influence - could be famous or powerful or rich or all of the above. You might feel a bit overwhelmed by their connections or their lifestyle if you don't also have a similar background as your s/o.

They'll have some sophisticated flair/air about them. They are strong communicators and are quite persuasive. They know what to say to make your heart flutter. They may be manipulative though - so be careful.

There's probably some secret they are hiding - not sure what exactly but I don't think they want you to find out.

#4

They are very introverted and quiet. Very observant and detail oriented. Some may suffer from OCD or OCD-like tendencies. They can be obsessive over details. They can either be very very clean or be super super messy.

They probably will wear glasses or have prescription lenses somewhere. They may possibly have some tattoos or piercings or at least some prominent scar or birth mark.

They are pretty serious and aren't ones to really joke around. They can be sarcastic though. They may seem kinda gloomy but it doesn't mean they are very pessimistic.

They're probably night owls and hate the mornings. They probably won't like sweet things or will love them a lot - no between.

They can be kinda self-conscious and have a bit of low self-esteem. Could be bc they were bullied in the past or they felt they were really ugly before?? Possibly they were overweight when they were young and then teased a lot or bullied a lot so now they still got that trauma. Could possibly have suffered from some eating disorder too or went through some extreme diets.

Their physical health may not be that good like possible chronic illnesses or have gone through a major surgery/illness. Possible cancer survivor too.

They have a kind heart and probably love animals. They likely have a pet or if they can't have one due to allergies, then they would still like them.

#5

Definitely suffered from some trauma in their childhood or before they date you. This trauma will probably be pretty bad and severe - TW: sexual assault/physical abuse/violence etc. The abuse could have been very bad.

They are either in the healing process when they meet you or they're still deeply suffering from this trauma and won't admit it. Their inner child definitely needs healing.

They likely came from a family that was broken in different ways. Possibly the parents weren't available/died young or the parent(s) were abusive - could be verbal or physical etc. Or perhaps the parents favored the other sibling a lot and ignored your s/o. Siblings were very toxic to your s/o. Whatever happened your s/o did not feel loved by their family and/or they were deeply hurt by their family. They will likely have cut off from their family or will leave them shorlty after dating you.

They have a lot of sad undertones and when you look at them very closely, you know they have a story to tell. They are probably very animated/sociable so you might not even notice at first that they've suffered so much but when you look closer, you will sense that they've gone through a lot. If that's not the case they could be just very cold and a bit of a loner - like they seem strong on the outside but inside they are suffering.

They may not be super good looking but they have this attractiveness to them that draws people to them. They have that sort of mystery to them. However, they probably don't have many friends and stick to themselves.

They are interesting as a person and are self reflective. They have depth to them and can understand people well.

#6

They probably come from a traditional family or a very large family. They might have been in a religious family too or a cult.

They are either very close to their family or have completely cut off from them. There's no in between.

They can feel very lost at times. They aren't very sure of themselves. They have an innocent vibe to them. They also trust people easily, almost too easily. You'd want to protect them or look after them.

They are idealistic and sweet. They are gentle and probably have a sweet/angelic voice. They are friendly and loving.

They can be unrealistic so they will need someone who can ground them. They probably start a lot of projects and never finish them.

They need a lot of reassurance as they can sometimes lack confidence or get nervous easily.

They will probably have a rounder face or rounder features like rounder eyes, lips etc. They may be on the shorter side for height like shorter than average or they may just have a petite build like smaller bone structure. This doesn't necessarily mean they are very skinny - it's just somehow they will feel "Small".

They have a lot of youthful energy. They can sometimes say really dumb things even though they are clever. They're not very street smart. They probably will get lost easily. They also probably love food. They also are probably kinda lazy.

#7

They're probably very athletic or very into health stuff. They can be a fitness nut and they probably enjoy a lot of sports. They might even be some competitive athlete, possibly even an Olympian.

They seem to be able to do a lot of things like not just excel in sports. They might even have a creative side like filming videos or writing stories etc.

They enjoy travelling and love exploring. They love nature and being away from the city.

They're very daring and adventurous. They are very energetic and have loads of energy - almost too much.

They get distracted easily. They possibly suffer from ADHD or just have trouble focusing for long periods of time. They might not be able to sit still so they likely hated going to school (besides doing something more active).

They have strong golden retriever energy. They mean well but sometimes they can be too blunt. They also can sometimes be quite fiery and will definitely stand up for you when needed. They have strong protective energy too.

They also are probably romantic and will surprise you with little things. They will also remember anniversaries etc.

#8

They are very calm and collected. They are determined and responsible. They can be kind of boring sometimes. They stick to a routine and don't like to deviate from it. They are quite stubborn.

They are loyal to you. They are committed in the relationship. They care a lot about you but often have trouble expressing it to you. Sometimes you might feel like they don't love you but it's their actions that prove that they do love you. They notice the little details about you, including all your habits. They love looking after you and could even want to groom you somehow like maybe cut your hair/brush your hair/help you shave etc.

They can nag a lot and are passive aggressive. They can seem like a parent sometimes but they do mean the best for you.

They can have a controlling side. They're really into being efficient so sometimes they might forget that people have feelings.

To a lot of people they are workaholics. They also are quite responsible. If you're disorganized they will help you be more organized.

They're not romantic at all. They are very pragmatic so if you're thinking you're getting a romantic Valentine's Day, no that won't be the case. However they'll probably order your favorite food and help you clean up your place so you aren't tired after school/work/etc. They'd give you an expensive high tech vacuum instead of some necklace bc you really need one to clean up your place.

They can sometimes be a bit petty and yes they do bear grudges for life...

[alexthebordercollie]

Ford's autism

K so I don't think I need to defend the interpretation Ford is on the spectrum. People make jokes about him being autistic all the time. We all see it. What I want to do here is sort of connect together some character details and examine them through the lense of my own autistic experiences.

I wanna start with his hands. It's an observation I've seen from multiple people that Ford is insecure about his hands and often hides them behind his back or in his pockets. And yeah, he is obviously insecure about them. He even mentions his six fingers at times when they aren't really relevant to anything. It just showcases the space this physical deviation of his takes up in his mind. And yes, it makes sense that he's insecure about them because he was bullied for them growing up. I want to add to this observation.

Ford would have been bullied regardless.

The problem was never really his hands. When you're on the spectrum people around you can tell that you're weird. Uncanny. Something is different and feels wrong about you to NT people, especially kids. They will pick any shallow superficial thing they can find as an excuse to bully you and justify the sense of revulsion they feel around you but can't articulate. If Ford had been born with normal hands they just would have made fun of him for something else, it would have been his glasses, or the movies he liked, or hell maybe some good old-fashioned antisemitism. Literally, any excuse they could find.

I know growing up I tried for years to change the things about me that I was made fun of for and it never made things any better. The bullying never stopped. "Fixing" things about myself didn't work because the thing that was actually "broken" was something fundamental to who I am. That realization as a kid was soul-crushing. That there was nothing I could do that would ever make me "normal", that would ever make people like me. I felt like an alien born on the wrong planet.

Ford continues to latch onto his hands as a sore spot because they're something simple and obvious he can point to as an excuse for why he's so outcast. He probably knows by this point that the hands aren't actually the problem. I'd argue this journal entry and his comment about "another failed social interaction" shows that he's aware his hands aren't actually the problem. But, it is a lot easier to fixate on those than to dwell directly on that sinking feeling that at the core of you're being you are fundamentally weird, wrong, unlovable. Ford's a genius. If his polydactyly bothered him that much he could have removed the extra digits. The hands aren't the problem, they're a symbol of a more fundamental kind of pain.

Looking at it through this context also makes the gloves Fiddleford gives him an extra sweet gift given what they represent. A kind of wholehearted acceptance of who Ford is and even a willingness to adapt to his unique needs just to show him love and affection. I think something that hurts me so much about their relationship is that Ford had someone who very clearly loved him as is and would have never wanted him to be someone or something else, and Ford was too stubborn to fully appreciate that.

The same is true of Stanely by the by. He never had a problem with his brother being weird. Another relationship with someone who loved Ford as is but who Ford took for granted. He needs these kinds of relationships in his life. People who embrace and accept him for the weirdo he is. He needs them desperately, which gets me to my next point.

Ford's ego. So it's also a common observation that Ford has a massive ego. He's kind of an ass, to put it mildly. But I have had someone in conversation frame it like the pressure to prove themselves was just on Stanley and Ford just spent his whole life being hyped up and told he was hot shit. This isn't true, or at least it's a flattening of his experiences.

Ford was praised for his genius. This is true. But his own father only gave a shit when said genius showed signs of netting material gains for the family. It only mattered cause Ford could be useful. Furthermore, this genius never netted him social acceptance from his peers growing up. He was still a bullied, weirdo, loser most of his childhood. Add that seeing Stanley kicked out would have drilled into Ford's head that if he couldn't make something out of himself his family wouldn't want him either. Stan was an unspoken threat of what this family does to failures.

Gonna bring up my own personal experiences again. Having set the stage for how it feels growing up on the spectrum. That feeling of alienness that you can't really explain. I loved to write and draw from a very young age. Moreover, as I got older I realized that when I drew, people were nice to me. The only time I got social acceptance was when people were admiring or praising me for my art. So I did it more and more, I devoted myself feverishly to my art. I loved it anyway and would have hyper-fixated on it regardless but the positive reinforcement turned art from something I loved to a need. I NEEDED to be an artist. I needed to be the best at my school. I needed all eyes on my work because it was the only way I could make friends. The only way I could prove that I had value. That I deserved a place in society.

I see that in Ford. I see his ego not as shallow narcissism but as an overwhelming need to prove his value as a person. To be loved and accepted and believing that no one will want him if he isn't brilliant. If he doesn't change the world. If he isn't useful. This is also why he couldn't bring himself to destroy his research even knowing it was the safest and most responsible option. Burning down everything he worked for would mean finally giving up on the fantasy of ever being accepted or valuable.

The sad thing is he's so single-mindedly fixated on this personal goal of proving his worth to the world that when people do come along that love him unconditionally he takes them for granted. These people are statistical anomalies in his life. Nice to have around, but not enough to fix the bigger problem. They aren't reflective of society at large. They aren't enough to prove that he, personally, is loveable. Just that on occasion he meets another weirdo. For a while it's nice. Like a campfire in a barren tundra. But he has to keep moving, he can't stay. Warmer lands are ahead if he can just get to them. If he can just keep moving.

This also is why Ford was so susceptible to Bill. Bill told Ford what he wanted to hear. That he was destined for greatness. That, the fundamental wrongness he felt all his life was something incredible other people just couldn't see. Bill promised Ford exactly what he wanted, but not what he actually needed. Ford never needed the world at large to accept him. He just needed a few good people.

I also think his chemistry with Bill was connected to his autistic experiences as well. Bill is literally an alien. There's no pressure to mask around him. To try and "act normal". Ford can just be himself with Bill and not have to think about it. And sure, he could be himself around Fiddleford, but Fidds is still human. The anxieties of human social expectations are still present. Like when Fidds get him a gift for the holidays and Ford feels a bit guilty that it didn't even occur to him to do the same. He doesn't have to think about these social nuances with Bill.

That said I'm sure Bill isn't what his world would have considered neurotypical anyway. Not that Ford would know that. But Bill was also a strange freak in his own society. Just as outcast, possibly more so. I think Bill sees a bit of his own experiences reflected in Ford. I think he relates to him on a level. Not that he would ever admit it outright due to his own ego. I think Bill's fixation on him after the breakup also stems from Ford rejecting the path that Bill chose for himself. Bill still lives with some sort of deeply repressed guilt for what he did. Imagine how validating it would have been to see someone else like him burn their own world to the ground for the same reasons Bill did. But no, Ford's a better man than him, and Bill can't stand it.

Ok, I don't know how to end this long-ass monologue so I'm gonna call it here I guess. I just wanted to spill some thoughts of mine about Ford as a character. If anyone else wants to add to this with other examinations of Ford's character through this lense go right ahead. I'm just saying as an autistic person myself I understand every choice Ford made. I could relate to why he did the things he did even if I know those were mistakes and even acknowledging that he's kind of an asshole. Ford is a strange man who makes an eerie amount of sense to me.