#stoic secrets

[official-thoughts-sachin]

If Someone Ignores You Then Do This || These Things will Change Your Life || A Stoic thoughts

[whump-in-the-closet]

what are ur fav tropes for stoic whumpees? love da blog

stoic whumpee tropes that are a 100/10:

"I'm fine" and then immediately collapsing in front of their loved ones in a bleeding pile, revealing a hidden injury that has festered for far too long

silent, muffled crying with shaking shoulders and a bloody hand clamped over their mouth because they view crying as weak and beneath them and they're stronger than this, they're stronger, they can take it--

the moment they close their eyes in defeat and it's all over and they fucking know it, and when they open their eyes again all that remains is a glassy-dead stare

adamantly refusing medical treatment even when they need it. Shoving away everyone who comes close to them, a choked sound in their throat, fighting back with everything that's left in them.

when they kneel at Whumper's feet, eyes on the ground, white-lipped and tense. The only betrayal of emotion is their clenched fists and tight breathing. In every other way, they're compliant.

refusing to talk about what they endured at Whumper's hands after they're rescued, but the scars tell the story for them. They don't have to say a word, but their team's pitying gaze follows them wherever they go

normally unaffectionate and distant but exhausted and defeated they rest their head on Caretaker's shoulder or Whumper's lap, just finally admitting--nonverbally-- that they can't take it

reversely, more willing to be tortured than to ask for help-- If I'm breathing, I'm fine

stitching their own wounds back up with an unsteady hand, painful stitch after painful stitch. Deep breath and pull. Working in a dimly lit apartment with bleeding clothes on the floor around them and the bed unmade

sacrificing themself for their team. "Take me! Do what you want to me. Not them." And their team watching as the torture takes its slow toll and Whumpee-- the one they look up-- falls apart.

[tonydaddingham]

hey michael psspsspss cmere i want to have a talk about your face in this scene, nothing weird, just a little chat

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

Whump Prompt #1323

Anon asked:

Do you have any prompts for a usually funny and hides insecurity behind humour/a strong character being poisoned/drugged and being forced to be vulnerable around others? Usually they’d always have a joke or a bright idea on their tongue, but now they can’t really form coherent sentences right now as they’re delirious.

I have a few - great concept!

I can imagine that it's deeply unsettling for the caretakers to experience this at the very least. Because it's so out of character for them.

^ As a result of this, maybe the whumpee tries to escape medical/hide away to avoid subjecting the caretakers to this. Despite how upsetting the situation is, the caretakers are more overrun by worry than being put off by the whumpee.

I like the idea of the whumpee becoming frustrated, because their brain is working at a snails pace, they're struggling to be understood, they're uncomfortable and unwell, but it feels like everyone is crowding them. It gets a bit much for them.

"[whumpee]'s quiet." It's two words that have the other caretakers stop in their tracks. Quiet and [whumpee] do not go together.

Maybe in a fit of delirium, they reveal things about themselves/their past that they've kept to themselves all these years.

^ bonus points if it's their insecurities. The caretaker could say something along the lines of "...you're kind and funny...", to which the whumpee responds: "I have to be... if not you'll realise just how useless I am and you'll want me off the team."

[liittleemiixeer]

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Keep Being Amazing!!! (sorry I drew this with my mouse. I was too lazy to get a real pen.) I hope you have a wonderful day!

[deepperplexity]

Prompt 10: Lingering Touch [C3]

Pairing: Judge Turpin x Fem!OC

POV: First, OC

Continuation of: Prompt 4. Darkest Night [C1], Prompt 8. Never-ending Consequences [C2]

A/N: It's Tuesday and I'm here with the next part of Turpin's story for this Rickmas and things are not at all going to plan it seems… 👀 I'm not gonna spoil anything for you darlings but we're definitely doing things different this time around 🙈

Anyway, I hope you'll have a good time reading and that December (or whatever month it is you're reading this) is treating you kindly. we are missing the snow and the cold over here and it doesn't at all feel right when December isn't accompanied by a banket of snow so… 😩 But, still, this month is quite good and fun - having had time to think about what I want to do for the rest of Rickmas and already having written tomorrows fic feels awesome 🤭👏

Tags/TW’s: Secret Pining, Instant Attraction, Harsh Judge Turpin, Gloomy Vibes, Dead Animals Mentioned (no details), Dead Character Mentioned (no details), Helpful Other Male Character, Other Character Flirting (light) With OC, Societal Differences

Word Count: 2.1k

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

Lingering Touch

There was no end to the gloom it seemed. I had slept well, no complaints could be said about the lush bed and silky bedding. Yet, still, there was a dreadful gloom I simply could not defend myself against fully. “Dreary, so dreary. This place needs a Christmas tree,” I whispered to myself as I meandered around the parlour. “His Lordship does not celebrate Christmas, miss,” came the voice of the ageing maid. Turning rapidly, I found her in the doorway. “Christ, you startled me.” “Not my intention, miss.” She nodded at me in an apology yet her face did not change.

I patted down my dress, smiling brightly at the woman with strict features and a thin turkey neck — you have kind eyes, though. “Breakfast is served, miss. His Lordship will join you promptly at eight.” Her voice was as strict as her face. “Thank you,” I said. “No need to dawdle, I suppose. I shall seat myself so the great judge does not see me as an inconvenience, Mrs— Oh, forgive me, I do not know your name.” “Jenning. Mrs Jenning,” she said in one of those short, clipped voices ringing with a no-nonsense tone. I nodded. “Mrs Jennings, thank you.” Perhaps the gloom has gotten to her, I would be strict and the like if I were forced to be in a house like this day in and day out I suppose. Dreary, gloomy, dark and cold. Perhaps it is the faith's way of teaching me to be grateful for what I have, for my father’s home and how warm it has always been despite me being a burden on him at this age without prospects.

“Miss Brimmer?” Mrs Jenning said in a sort of rapped manner. She waited for me by the door, an air of impatience about her. “Sorry, lost in thought, I tend to do that from time to time. You know, the mind is a funny place to be sometimes. Do you not agree, Mrs Jenning?” I asked in an upbeat manner to alleviate the sense of dread the house cast over me while walking toward her with my pale blue dress swishing.

Mrs Jennings looked at me funnily. “Funny place?” she asked, almost too quietly for me to hear. “Funny place, so much goes on up there at times I—” “Talkative, are we?” came the deep rumble of the judge himself. My breath stuttered and Mrs Jenning stiffened further, however that was possible. “My lord, breakfast is served,” she said as we both turned toward the man coming down the stairs. “Good morning, my lord.” I curtsied. “I hope you slept well, I had the most wonderful rest in such a soft bed as you offered. And in such a grand room, too, sir,” I continued as he stepped down the final step.

Judge Turpin arched a brow at me and even though his eyes were unyielding and harsh as steel just like yesterday the look had me feeling some type of way. I was not certain of the type of tingling travelling all through my body yet it was not one of discomfort. It ought to be, really ought to be, those eyes are not friendly. Striking. But not friendly.

“Yes, talkative, indeed,” he drawled while looking down at me with a flicker of his eyes down my dress and then back to my eyes once more. A small sneer tugged at his lips and I felt heat creep up along my neck and throat. A judge who judges, well, I am under-dressed in such fine company. Grand but gloomy, too bad really. This is a fine house and an even finer man if one but disregards the gloom and the dread, the chill and the lifeless— Well, one must disregard plenty of things, apparently. And despite that thought, I had no issue disregarding all the warnings and negative sensations when his steely eyes held mine and that thunderous voice filled the space, ordering us all to sit down for breakfast a mere second before the clock in the hallway chimed eight.

Mrs Jennings served coffee to the judge and then poured my cup which I added a heap of sugar to as always. The man arched a brow at me by the third spoon of the white goodness so I stopped despite always having four spoons of it in the dark brew. I stirred as he opened the day’s paper.

“Oh, this is wonderful,” I said as I looked out over the table filled with bread, fruits, cheeses and meats of a large variation. “I have never had such a breakfast before. Such variations and abundance. Gosh, what am I to eat out of all this?” I looked all over the table and I could not make a choice. The judge merely sipped his coffee behind the paper.

“Meats? No, well, with bread and cheese perhaps? Are those grapes? In December? Gosh, what do I—” The paper was lowered and cold eyes glared at me. “Are you… ever quiet?” he asked and my stomach knotted under his harsh words, void of all warmth and lacking even a bit of its humanity. I tilted my head, scrunching my brows at the scary man I couldn’t stop feeling this strange fluttering for. I do enjoy a grump… I have always adored those with little apparent joy, those honest and harsh ones who never really are allowed to— Stop, focus, Julianne. No losing yourself in your head now.

“Well?” he drawled, waiting for my reply. “I can be.” When… If sad… then I am quite quiet. “But I want to thank you, and express my gratitude as well as appreciation for the grandeur of your home, and life, sir.” I could not take my eyes off the man with a hooked, regal nose and features I wished to smooth out with my thumb for some reason. His slightly stubbly chin had my fingers tingling. This is all so odd. He’s scary, yet I’m— I’m tingly when having his attention? I truly must have hit my head badly, even if I tend to befriend those grumpy and dreary to brighten their days this is far different, is it not? He huffed. “Consider yourself expressed, Miss Brimmer.”

I lowered my gaze, not speaking another word for the time being. I simply took a slice of fresh bread, added a slice of cheese and placed five grapes on my plate. We ate in silence but I could feel him take not-so-subtle glances of me, just as I stole far more subtle glances of him when he was busy with his own food and drink.

“Now, Miss Brimmer,” he suddenly spoke up and I looked up from the empty cup I held in my stiff fingers. “I am departing for the court, I shall order a constable to arrive here and escort you back to your carriage.” That’s— That’s it? Well, to be left with this utterly strange sensation and wish to know this stoic man deeper is rather unpleasant. Oh, hush, Julianne. You are far beneath such a grand man, he is out of your reach. Remember that. “Thank you, sir.” It was all I could say, my voice far quieter than before.

He stood, nodded harshly at me, and left with long strides which echoed through the room. I slowly rose, looking upon all the leftover food from the large breakfast. I hope he offers it to his staff and then those in need after that. Such a waste, and I could not even manage more than one slice with my stomach in this-, this-, this knotted state.

I moved out of the room, seeing the door close after a mere glimpse of the edge of his thick coat. “Miss Brimmer,” said Mrs Jenning. “I shall pack a bit of food for your journey.” “Oh, why thank you, that’s very kind of you,” I said with a smile as I was jolted back into my usual self. “Shall I help?” “No, Miss Brimmer.” It was another clipped wording but she was not being unpleasant toward me. “I shall wait here, then. In the lack of Christmas decorum and quiet…” The last part was barely audible, it merely slipped out. “Make yourself comfortable, despite the lack of holiday cheer…” she said calmly. “But his Lordship will not allow you to wait long for a constable, I dare say in this instance.”

⁛•⁛

Mrs Jenning had been right. It took but a few minutes before a constable came knocking, with a horse and a nice carriage drawn by a well-dressed coachman. I had been sent off with a packed brunch as well as a new scarf wrapped around my neck of the softest cotton.

Now, the carriage stopped by my toppled one. My stomach turned on itself as the scene was laid bare with a thin layer of snow covering some of it. The horses I had shot to end their misery lay frozen with the gun hidden completely under snow between their large heads. The coachman, crushed between the carriage and the ground, lay face down and stiff. Dead.

My shoulders shook as the constable walked around the site. Yesterday, in the dark, it had not looked so scary and my actions had not felt so final. Now, looking at the horses shot by my hand — no matter what reason — had me clutching my cloak closer to ward off the discomfort.

“Miss, shall I climb inside for you?” I glanced at him, offering a thankful smile. “Would you, Constable Greer?” He smiled in return. “Certainly, miss. A fine woman as yourself should not climb toppled carriages.” Then he pulled himself atop the carriage and opened the door I had managed to climb out of after having been thrown about inside of it.

Constable Greer was a nice gentleman, the thirty minutes we had spent in the carriage had started off quiet and stiff but things never remained in that manner for long once I started talking. It did, most of the time, land me in some form of predicament of the negative kind but Constable Greer turned out to be a rather pleasant man and he had a nice laugh as well. Like myself, he had come from outside of London, but he came for work years ago where I had come due to the need for a husband.

After a few minutes, we had gotten my possessions out of the carriage and loosened the trunk strapped to the back of the carriage as well. Constable Greer had strapped it to the carriage procured by Judge Turpin and asked me to sit down inside while he finished up. Once he was inside I thanked him and we set off toward London once more. We could do nothing about the rest for the moment but would be sending a few men to fetch everything left — including the dead — once a storm was not brewing above the trees around us.

Despite the very pleasant company and shared laughs I could not help but wander back to the stoic and harsh Judge Turpin with his steely eyes and rigid posture. Nor could I stop the slight sadness at knowing I would most likely never see the man again. He had not been particularly kind toward me, but he had offered aid, shelter, and food even though he had not been obligated to do so. I shall be thankful for the little moments I was offered with him. Another trial to add to the ever-growing list of never-ending consequences of that infernal bad luck. Black cat energy, perhaps I was cursed as a child? One never knows, I suppose.

“…are you, Miss Brimmer?” Constable Greer asked just as the carriage stopped outside the Rosemary Inn. My cheeks warmed with embarrassment as I had gotten myself lost in my errant thoughts once more. “I apologize, Constable, I missed your words.” He chuckled. “Will you attend the Christmas Ball, Miss Brimmer?” “Oh, why yes, that is my purpose of this visit.” He glanced down at the hat in his hands. “Well, I-, I shall see you there, then?” I blinked, a small smile tugging my lips. “You shall, Constable Greer,” I replied with a softened voice as the man’s sweet blue eyes glanced at me before he left the carriage and offered his hand.

I reached out and he grasped me, yet my mind flashed with the sturdy grip of Judge Turpin and the steely grey eyes that had held my gaze unwaveringly. The sturdiness of his grip contrasted with the softer of the constable and as I stepped out the younger man did not linger in his hold as the judge had done for a few seconds as I straightened. He is far, far, faaar out of your reach! Let it go. There can be only further hardships laid in my path if I linger at thoughts of such a man as Judge Turpin…

To Be Continued...

LINKTREE // AO3 // MASTERLIST

NEXT PART » Prompt 14: Deceptive Kindness [C4]

A/N: Well well well, another man enters the equation, let's hope our dear judge steps up his game and actually does something about this whole mess of secret pining and hidden feelings 👀 What do you think? Will she end up at the ball or will something happen along the way to get her back to our stoic judge?

Side Note: I'm behind as all frikk-frakk on reading Rickmas fics - I'm doing my best but today I'm emergency BETA reading for an author friend whose BETA readers mostly flaked on her last minute (😤) so I'll be more behind but she really needs my support and help so I'm sorry lovelies I gotta step up and read her book today (which also happens to be fantastic, mind you) as she's gonna start editing tonight.

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[luck-of-the-drawings]

OOH YEAH BABY! PARTY TIME BABY! MUSIC! DRINKS! SOCIAL PRESSURE & A PSYCHEDELIC BREAK DOWN! WELCOME TO VAMPIRE SOCIETY MOTHERFUCKER! ARE YOU SCARED? DO YOU UNDERSTAND YET? ITS OKAY IF NOT. FIRE DISSOLVED IT! ITS ALL GONE NOW. HAVE FUN!

[pirunika]

Society if Dmitry was a woman:

[silly-lil-khaos-god]

This is a secret Santa snippet for @sunflower1000! I hope you like it and have a happy holiday season!

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

“Righthand, change the news station. I don't care which one, just not this,” the monotone voice of Villain rings out across the large common area. Most who didn't know him couldn't catch the hint of irritation breathing through each word, but Right Hand's long standing service with Villain makes her chest swell with pride at the knowledge. However, any pride goes unsaid as she flicks through the channels until coming upon the story of their current interest. She raises the volume slightly, so the breaking news could echo to Villain's corner chair over the minor bustle of the other workers. 

“-st in, the quakes along the coast have increased in intensity, and are projected To reach a 7.9 on the Richter scale. We are awaiting the arrival of emergency response teams for the current disaster zone.” Villain timer goes off and he promptly radios out, “Status report, all squads.”

Static picks up in the coms system until everyone begins reporting back in order.

“Squad Alpha: 2 D-tier villains. 1 agreed to transaction, the other refused.”

“Squad Beta: No recipients within target area. Holding safe position.”

“Squad Charlie: 1 D-tier hero agreed to transaction.”

“Squad Delta: 1 mercenary within protocol 3-x7. 1 F-tier villain agreed upon transaction.”

“Squad Echo: No recipients within the target area. Holding a safe position.”

“Continue to monitor.” The command rings out and the com system cuts off. The timer is once again reset and Villain returns their attention to the news.

“ At this time, 3 heroes are-” the news reporter goes silent for a moment, seemingly receiving a message in their earpiece for a moment before nodding and responding in turn, “Now 4 heroes are on scene with the arrival of Hero. Even without emergency crews onsite yet, the hopes of the survivors are climbing by the minute.” As the minutes tick by, Villain shuffles through the grueling amount of paperwork at a consistent pace. Suddenly, the entire base shakes as the next earthquake strikes. Even as far as it is from the coast, they’re also affected by this disaster.

“There’s our 7.9 I’d say…” Right Hand grumbles to a henchman, before scurrying off to try and avoid getting knocked flat for as long as possible. Shortly thereafter the tremors cease and Villain rises to assist in the cleanup around his base. In the midst of checking structural integrity, the timer goes off once more.

Villain swiftly strides over, “Status report, all squads.”

“Squad Alpha: No further reports, assisting Charlie Squad with debris on their vehicle.”

“Squad Beta: 1 C-tier villain agreed to transaction. 1 mercenary agreed to transaction.”

“Squad Charlie: No reports, vehicle status unknown but likely unrecoverable.”

“Right Hand, send that status to the garage. We will either need to have repairs made or a new purchase.” Right Hand nods, heading toward the internal com system for relay.

“Squad Delta: No further recipients in the area. Waiting in safe zone.”

“Squad Echo: B-Tier hero within protocol “f-13d within the recent demolition zone. No current location known. Searching.”

“Delta Squad, go assist Squad Echo in search for now. We’ve gained enough recipients for a day.” Right Hand raises a brow upon hearing Villain’s command, but rushes off to grab her proper shoes and set up for the upcoming transport. There’s only one B-tier hero under that protocol. In the time it takes for Right Hand to arrange a swift transportation, Villain was already swiftly approaching. “Only way to see things are done the way you want is to do them yourself, correct Right Hand?”

“Correct,” Right Hand gleams, “I’ve arranged for transportation to the demolition zone for a small crew.”Villain nods, no expression given, but a glint in their eye tells her they’re pleased.

Their transportation is by air and drops them off in a somewhat secluded area where they’re then retrieved by Beta Squad. The ride over is silent to Villain, who scans the rubble and remaining buildings like a predator scouring for its prey. Once they arrive in Echo’s section, it turns into a theater as Villain commands each movement with a stern elegance.

When no results are produced within the next few minutes, Villain and Right Hand join the search, “All of the squads were given even areas to patrol for fast retreats and easy monitoring, correct?”

Right Hand gives Villain a sidelong glance, “Yes, you plotted each area yourself…”

“Then results should have been produced already.”

“Or in the midst of all this rubble there is seemingly more ground to cover-”

“If I wanted cheek, I would have asked someone else. It is a statement. If the squads had efficient routes, the skies would have been far simpler routes. Expand the search to the two nearest squadrons as well.” Right Hand bites her tongue from a response to Villain and just relays the command through the coms.

Just a short while after the command has been given, Villain demands a response across coms for any visuals. After a pregnant pause, one of the henchmen responds, “Section Beta has a voice calling for help. Tr-”

Villain jogs around the rubble to section Beta and marches through the ranks to the henchmen who have now located Hero. Within the rubble, a few henchmen are speaking with Hero about the situation. Villain approaches and asks, “How did you get into this mess?” Under the cold exterior, they were shaken. The damned fool, they knew what they were capable of and what they weren’t. Why in hell would they have gone near these buildings? They could only fly so fast and the air was as dangerous as the ground in the disaster zone. Maybe more so with less time before some falling building smacks someone in the back, obviously.

“Villain? Villain, you need to get out of here, we don’t know when the next quake will hit. What are you even doing out here anyway?”

“Doing what I do best, securing favors. So, always for everyone else but never enough help for yourself. How much of a mess did you get yourself into this time?” The tremble was barely held back in his voice, even assessing from above the collapsed floor he could see the danger in Hero’s predicament.

A child was stuck in this mess and they were trapped in the basement of the building before the most recent quake hit. Hero flew in through the window, thinking their speed would get them securely out of the building. When the quake hit, the ceiling collapsed on them. They threw the child to a safe spot where the floor had already caved, but they were not fast enough to make it out themselves. While they weren't being crushed by the debris, their body was crucial to the last supports available to the rubble. They tried to get out in every way they could with their control of the winds, but even the slight movement of their arm caused a sickening grating of stone on stone to begin above them. If they moved in the wrong direction, or moved too fast, the pile of metal beams and cement pillars would shift and crush them. The child they saved had run for help and ran into the henchmen from there, likely thinking they were emergency workers.

Villain’s eyes were wide as the hero described everything, breathing quick and shuddering. His blood was on fire and his stomach churned realizing that he was helpless to assist them. He had worked too hard, put in so much time to ensure Hero would be safe, only for this? Did the fool realize how many favors had been called, strings pulled, to ensure this person, HIS person, was safe? Panic welled in Villain’s chest as he looked down. The world swam in his vision as he stumbled down the rubble to the trapped fool, his beloved fool.

“Right Hand, what are the favors I have? Who can get them out of this?” Villain paced around the perimeter, brain working at a thousand miles a minute to grasp onto any structural support he could find.

Right Hand freezes up for a moment, but snaps to grabbing his coded book and hands it to him. He frantically flips through the book, eyes devouring the pages like a man starved.

“Contact Supervillain. I have one favor but it would be enough to get Hero-”

“Villain!” Right Hand balks at him. She knew his feelings for Hero, sure. She’s known for a long time after a lot of digging into the various ‘coincidences’ they’ve had with Hero. But this? This is too drastic and impossible to hide his feelings toward the hero. “You can’t do that!”

Villain turns to her in such fury, she almost believes he's about to strike her down that instant, “I will do as I please with the resources I have made.” The danger in his tone is suffocating, but she can't let him be that narrow.

“Villain, if you do this then there will be no hiding. You call Supervillain and he will know that you have a soft spot for Hero. He finds that out? You and Hero both are as good as dead.” Villain falters, he should be the one thinking logically to save Hero, not throwing this mess on Right Hand. “Don’t you have that one villain that can control rocks? Don’t they owe you a few favors anyway? That’s an easier cover than thinking for a second that Supervillain would show mercy.”

Villain sighs, tremors subsiding a little, “Right. You’re right, I need someone else to handle this. Beta squad, go grab that villain… their base is at these coordinates. Tell them I’m cashing in one of my favors.” Beta squad quickly drives off to retrieve the other villain.

While they wait, Villain crouches down to see Hero through the rubble and gives them a small smile while Hero just lays there baffled, “Did Right Hand say you have a favor from Supervillain? How did you manage that? And wait, why would you use that favor on me?”

Villain is struck silent for a moment as Right Hand smacks a hand into her face hard enough to be heard, “You heroes really are just stupid.”

Villain finally breaks from his stupor to laugh, “You haven’t noticed? Even after all this time? Hero, I care for you. Deeply, might I add.”

“Wait.. what? But I’m a hero and constantly messing things up for you. And aren’t you and Right Hand together?”

Villain laughs harder at the misconception and Right Hands face of disgust, “I don’t think she’d put up with me in more than a work setting. Besides that, you’ve had my heart for a while. Once you’re out of this mess, we’ll discuss this properly.”

“You look good when you smile,” Hero flushes. As the car pulls up with Alpha squad and their assistance, Hero rushes to tell Villain one last thing before he puts up his walls again, “I think we can come to an arrangement for me to repay my debt to you.”

“We’ll see what can be arranged. I have many things in mind for us.”

[zhoras-bitch]

I am so ashamed to admit this but... I am actually enjoying HS:R...... A lot.........

[official-thoughts-sachin]

Your Kindness Can Ruin Your Life || Don't be Kind || Know the Important Reasons || A Stoic thoughts

[asianwhumpgalore]

Secrets of the Shadow Sect | EP 3 gifs

Whumplist

[the-baby-storyteller]

Whumpee won’t tell Caretaker what was done to them.

They won’t talk about their kidnapping or what Whumper said and did. The hits, the tears, the fears, the torture. None of it In fact, compared to what they were before, they rarely talk at all, low-toned and soft-spoken to a degree that sends (unwarranted?) shudders through Caretaker.

In a way, they try to pretend it didn’t exist, that it didn’t happen.

They’re strong. They rarely have panic attacks or nightmares. No one really knows what happens to them because they keep to themself and are excellent at only putting up the face they want others to see. They “never” have nightmares, and they’ve stared down anyone who brought up the only time they’ve had a public panic attack, despite trying to hold it back so badly, with a gaze so menacingly terrifying everyone acts like pretends forgets it happened.

(Even though Caretaker remembers and they can still see a pained gleam in Whumpee’s eye and they know Whumpee’s not okay, they won’t open up).

[crescenthistory]

the way u characterize barty is literally candy to my brain. like u GET it. like ofc he doesn’t do anything by half measures so obviously he would love just as intensely as everything else he considers worth his time. and at the risk of getting super self-projecty, as someone who second guesses affection from others no matter how close it’s so lovely to see someone who just loves loudly and unabashedly. do i want him or want to be his fearlessness? or both? who’s to say! (i’m to say it’s both)

AHHHH YESSSSS see absolutely this this this. not doing anything by half measures is literally barty's motto, i'm really glad my version of him translates for you 😚 i just cannot see this man trying to be aloof and indifferent when he loves someone, he is DRAMATIC

people who own their feelings wholly??? fantastic give me fifteen of them right now. it's my theory that most barty girlies (gn) are also james girlies (gn) for that exact reason.

[payaso-affairs]

*sitting in circle of chairs* hi my is name ron and i have a type-