#this is definitely a forced optimism on my part

[iguessitsjustme]

What do I want in 2024? I want poly. I want multiple shows to have love triangles that result in poly. I want different poly options. I want all of the poly. Will I get it? Unlikely but I will remain ever hopeful

[itsokguysimquirky]

❥ clingy and drunk 🛏️🍻🌡

❥ lip gallagher x reader, no use of y/n, college!au, fluffy nonsense, like one (1) whole sex joke, established relationship, fem!reader (as in, it's mentioned you have tits)

❥ after waking up with a fever, a headache, and everything else people hate about being sick, you decided to stay in for the night instead of going out with Lip to a party. You planned on having a quiet night in, but your boyfriend had other plans.

❥ a/n: kind of want to do a part two where the reader's the clingy and drunk one, while Lip gets to be the sober one appreciating the sight. i'd say I'll write it if there's interest but i gotta be fr I'll probably write it anyways.

❥ w/c -> 1026 words

It was a quiet knock to your door that broke the brain fog flooding your sleepy, fever-addled brain. It was a second, much more needy knock that forced you onto your feet and towards your dorm’s door. When your boyfriend, clearly inebriated, was revealed to be the knocker on the other side, it was hard not to glare at him. Well, it was hard to glare at Lip. You tried your best to, but the yawn that overtook you didn’t exactly make you seem all that intimidating. 

“Thought you were at a party?” You asked, dressed minimally in just sleep shorts and a large t-shirt that was definitely Lip's first, the optimal sick outfit. You were meant to be at said party with him, but after waking up with far too high a temperature and a killer headache, along with skipping all of your lectures for the day, partying seemed out of the question. Lip offered to stay in with you, but you had reassured him that if you didn’t get to go out, he would have to go to make up for it.

Lip smiled at you, all big and dopey and without any of the walls his sober self kept up. He was quick to wrap his arms around you, hands resting on your lower back as he struggled in his drunken state to push the door shut with his foot. “Hm, missed you… Party sucked without you.” He tugged you towards him, his words whispered into your ear.

“I was tryin’ to sleep…” You mumbled, yawning again. Your breath was hot against his neck, and clearly tickling him if the giggle-like laughter that escaped him was any indicator.

He pressed you closer to him, ducking his head down to press a sloppy kiss to your cheek, “Sorry to wake up my sleeping beauty-” You laugh, pushing him away, “Hey, hey. No, c’mon…” He whines, quick to slip his grip to your waist and pull you back to him. Your hip bones press against each through the fabric of your pajama shorts and his jeans.

You smile, hands moving down to fiddle with his belt, undoing the buckle, “Your breath stinks.”

“‘M sorry…” Lip pouts, letting his head drop to rest on your chest- well your tits, he was always fond of those. “Beer stinks.”

A laugh bubbles out of you, “Yeah. Yeah, it does.” You tug at his belt, pulling him by it as you shuffle back towards your bed. It’s a little hard to, your fever left you uncoordinated and Lip’s hands refused to loosen, unlike his belt which was actively loosening as you pulled at it. “You’re so clingy…”

He hummed against your sleep shirt, nipping at the fabric. Your legs pushed against your bed frame, and Lip was quick to lift you up and deposit you on top of it. He’s next to you just as fast, slipping one leg between yours as he begins to plant a series of chaste kisses to your neck. His jeans had been abandoned to your floor somewhere in the motions, you weren’t quite sure when.

“Down boy.” You teased, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look up at you. The pure look of adoration and desire in his puppy-dog eyes made letting him do whatever he wanted oh-so-tempting, but considering your bones already ached from the effort of getting out of bed and back into it, you doubted fulfilling his desires would do much to beat the fever plaguing you. Your boyfriend’s dick wasn’t what the doctor ordered, though maybe if the doctor saw what he could do with it they would change their mind.

Whining at the refusal, Lip’s pout returned to make up a rather sulky face. Soaking up your touch a moment longer, Lip eventually broke free to rest his head on your chest once again.

“Wanna watch a movie..?” You asked, carding a hand through his hair. “Somethin’ old, ‘m thinkin’ Disney.”

Lip's hazed eyes met yours, a drink-induced film glazed over them, “Thought you were tryna sleep?”

You shook your head, “Nah, nah, I'm awake now. Don't think I can sleep for another bit.” Your arm reached for the space between your bed and drawer, knowing that’s where you shoved your laptop earlier.

“Oh… ‘M sorry…” Lip seemed genuinely upset, the glaze coating his eyes looking alarmingly like tears. You could say with certainty that you had never seen a sober Lip cry before, it was rare to even see him look close to it. Drunk Lip was mostly the same story, at least when others were around, but something about it being just the two of you got your boy surprisingly teary-eyed when inebriated.

You pressed a kiss to the crown of his head, his curls tickling your face. “Shhh, you're fine. I like the company, missed you.” You cooed, abandoning your laptop to comfort him.

“Missed you too…” He hiccuped, tilting his head up to get a better look at you. His chin was digging into the skin right above your chest, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him to move.

“I know baby, you already said.” You smiled, pecking either of his temples between your words.

“Baby..?” He mumbled, “I’m your baby?” Lip’s eyes were wide and looking at yours like they were the most magical thing he had ever seen, like you were the most magical thing he had ever seen, and you would be lying if you blamed your newly watery eyes on your fever.

You could only hum in response, nodding your head. You knew if you tried to speak, the sheer adorableness of his reaction would take over and you didn’t want him regretting the vulnerability the next morning when his head sobered up. With a smile, Lip yawned, nestling further against your chest, “Good. I’mma go sleep now, ‘kay..?” His eyes were already slipping shut, a sudden sleepiness overcoming him.

Nodding again, you murmured a quiet, “Okay, baby…” Planting a goodnight kiss to his forehead. You definitely were still too awake to try to sleep too, but cuddling with your asleep boyfriend wasn’t too shabby of an alternative.

[yandere-wishes]

𝕆𝕦𝕣 ℙ𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕪 𝕃𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝔾𝕚𝕣𝕝

Summary: You try to escape from two fearsome Sith Lords. Surprisingly they take it rather well.

Author's note: This is totally getting a part 2. Or maybe a series we'll see. 

Warnings: dark, absolutely no regard for the rule of two, sorta a vent fic (venting that these two are so fine and I can't get them out of my mind), slightly fluffy.

The empire's warships have a tendency to blur reality. The interiors of their large hulking exoskeletons house endless corridors and makeshift chambers. Vast, endless arrays of space. They've been optimized for housing droids, clones, and artillery. Not for escape, not for an endless search of a freedom that has long since eroded. 

Calling yourself anything but desperate would be a lie. Your feet run to the chorus of your broken heartbeat. The need for freedom, the need to escape spreads through your body like a poison. You know it'll end up killing you, either from exhaustion or by their sabars. But you have to try, you have to run. Even if you've left fragments of yourself in the warm bed the three of you sleep on. Even if you forgot your heart under Anakin's pillow and your soul still lingers in Maul's warm embrace. Maybe freedom is worth cutting off pieces of yourself, if only in the hope that someday they might grow back. 

There's something wrong with the corridors you're sure of it. You've never been one for directions, instead relying on the holo screens and navigation systems to lead the way. Mirror images as far as the eye can see. Identical, plain. Nothing substantial to store in your memory. There's something ironic about this situation, a punchline that doesn't quite land. You half haphazardly tug on the skirt of your nightgown, desperate for anything familiar. You're not sure why.

You remember how Anakin called you pretty this morning, still hazy, still clinging to the sensation of slumber. Perfect blue eyes too dazed to look at you. Really look at you. The chosen one gazes at your ghost, your ethos. the perfect doll he and Maul had morphed you into. Behind you

 Maul pulls you to his chest. Hand running up and down her side, trying to resurrect you into his dreams. It's only when Anakin's eyes close, seeling the shimmering blue orbs, that you crawl out of bed and into the unknown. 

You're lost, abandoned in absolute desolation. The marble tiles bleed frost into the soles of your feet. Somewhere in the distance, you feel a disturbance in the force. Too far away to matter, yet leaking with a potent rage that burns. It's hope you think, albeit pathetically, maybe it's better to capitulate this pointless crusade and wait for the Sith lords to find you. The crash comes just as you're about to stop. You bump into him, falling in the process. All armor and steel. The Stormtrooper's mask is off giving you a clear view of his scarred face. His eyes flash, some dreary emotion too obscure to read, he offers you a gloved hand, something human something casual. 

You stare frozen. 

When exactly did you stop comprehending human idiosyncrasies? 

When exactly did you start reading every interaction as a threat? 

He's a monster, you think, just like the ones you've been warned about. Lectured time and time again by both Anakine and Maul. Monsters pry on little girls, especially ones who wander off on their own. Monsters lurk behind unsuspecting walls, ready to pounce when their prey approaches. You wonder if, the definitive definition of "monster" could be passed on to the two Siths who call themselves your lovers. 

There's blood, too crimson to be real. Metallic aromas wafted through the air. You've only now noticed how close the disturbance in the force really is. Close enough to distinguish itself. To reveal that, in actuality, it's not a disturbance at all.

 It's two...

Something cold yanks at your forearm. Pulling you to your feet. for a split second, your nerves calm. The familiarity of the cybernetic arm grants you a heavy ease. Anakin pushes you over to where Maul is standing. Golden eyes burning holes through the stormtrooper's armor. 'He didn't do anything' you long to say. But the words wisely die on your tongue as Maul grips your shoulders. Anakine's saber is lit, stabbing through the soldier's armor as if it were flesh. As if killing him where as easy as killing a rogue thought. "You're quite a foolish soldier for daring to touch that which belongs to your commanders. Even more imbecilic for so much as looking at emperor Palpatine's disciple." 

Maul's grip on your shoulders tightens, eyes never once leaving the bloodshed. One of his hands instinctively roams to your belly, then slides down to your thigh. Rubbing it ever so gently as his claws pierce your soft skin. You close your eyes trying to make yourself smaller. You hate how his touch grounds you. How the familiarity plucks at your heartstrings. When he touches you like this you wish you would forever rot in his arms.

"'I'm sorry" You don't know why the words come so easily. As if they've been itching to spill from your tongue. Maybe it's easier to say 'I'm sorry' rather than 'You've broken my perception of love, of reality and now I can only find comfort in your darkness.' "Hush" Maul's anger spills with every syllable. His claws dig deeper, earning him a pained hiss from his doll. 

"You're not sorry, in fact, you rather enjoyed this didn't you? Running away making us chase you down, I never thought your species would enjoy being the prey so much, little one." Anakin walks over, saber seethed at his side. His every step promised pain, retribution. He's angry, furious. They both are, you wonder if maybe, just maybe, they'll end it all today. 

Maul's chambers have always been a testament to Dathomir, bathed in deep scarlets and endless ebony. You wonder if he's homesick for a place he's only visited in his worst ephialtes. After the incident in the corridors, they drag you back to the Zabrak's room. Neither bothering to say a word. Merely permitting their rage to engulf you, subduing you into submission. It's an unwelcome surprise when they begin to prep for the day. Throwing on their black cloaks, prior to choosing your outfit. An abnormal affinity settles across the room. Too unnerving to go unchecked. 

They dress you each morning, a ritual you think, some attestation of love that's never been quite right. Maul drapes you in velvet dresses. Each one harbors a sui generis softness that sits erroneously across your skin. Their opulent sensation only brings forth feelings of aversion and despair. Their softness an ode to your imprisonment. 

the dresses come in shades of crimson, detailed sometimes in black, sometimes in gold, and sometimes in a frigid blue that sends shivers running up your spine. 

Anakin fusses over your accessories, why they feel the need to dress you so extravagantly daily is beyond you -as you've come to realize many things are- On days when Anakin's hubris reaches its apex, he bathes you in gold. Astonishing glittering collars across your neck and Kuat bangles hanging from your wrists. When he's sober from his pride he chooses black diamonds. Simple and exotic. scintillate and opaque.

Allusions to the dark side.

A hidden reference that crawls inside you. 

Once, back when you'd been sure defiance was still an option. Back when callow hope still dared to flow through your veins. Back when you'd been a jejune, stubborn thing. You had refused to wear one of the dresses they'd bought. Adimant in your refusal until Maul had stuck out his hand. Summoning the Force to remind you just who held the supreme authority here. 

The Force had strangled you, clawing hungrily at your neck. You felt your bones caving in on themselves, watched with exacerbating hysteria as your feet abandoned the floor. He'd only released you when he was sure you were near death's adorned door. Permitting you to molder on the floor akin to a ragdoll. 

Anakin had chastised you after you'd conjured enough strength to sit up, gasping greedily for air. He'd broken two fingers that day. One still harbors a small scar.

A Promise ring. 

An augury.

There are days, few and far between. When they've deemed you've been behaving adequately for long enough. That they permit you the choice of which dress you'd fancy wearing for the day. It's a rare event, reserved as a special treat. You think it's their way of proposing variety, giving you the illusion of choice. Making you feel a little less smothered. 

Today is not one of those days. Today, you feel them pick you apart, only to reassemble you in their image. Drowning you in extravagance. A reminder, one whose deprecating nature weaves itself within your muscles. You, little girl, are nothing more than a doll. And dolls should know their place.

No sooner do you feel the final lace fasten across your back, that Anakin is tugging you outside the door. Metal arm clasped around your forearm. 

Maul follows behind molten gaze locked on your face. The hallways bend to their will as if the walls themselves quiver with their presence. You recognize this corridor, recognize the frigid forlorn. 

There's something wrong with Emperor Palpatine's throne room. It's surreal, makeshift. His real throne lays somewhere cold, somewhere even his apprentices don't dare wander off to. The ironclad throne has never felt right. Never felt like it held any real power. Just terror, just dread, just hatred. But here it is in all its glory. Left to two apprentices who'd rather treat it as a toy than a sacred place.

 Anakin dramatically throws himself onto the throne. One leg thrown over the armrest as he leans against the other. His other leg planted firmly on the ground. He keeps you steady on his thigh. Torturing you with his distant, disappointed look. Maul stands in front of you. His eyes liquid gold melting into you. You see the galaxy in them. Hear it whispearing secrets meant to be forgotten. It's Anakin's voice that rattles you from your disjointed thoughts. 

"You caused us so much worry angel" he's being nice. You don't trust that. There's something sinister plaguing his words.  

"You know Ani, she may cease escaping if you'd cease to spoil her." Maul leans down, gripping your chin and squeezing. " The brat forgets her place, merely cause you'd rather coddle her than discipline her." 

Anakin glares, a shift in his eyes, blue bleeding into gold. "Hmm, Maul, you're starting to sound an awful lot like Kenobi right now."

"Why's that? Did the old fool tend to also point out your shortcomings?" 

You wonder who this Kenobi is, as you watch the Siths' exchange crude childish vitriols. Maybe he'd make a better lover than the two men you have the misfortune of being adhered to. 

They never could truly see just how similar they were.

Two sides of the same coin. 

One born of copper, the other, black rose petals.

Subconsciously you reach out. Grasping Anakin's robotic hand, fiddling with the panel, peeling it away to gain access to the wires and circuits. You have a bad habit of ripping things open. Anakin learned this the first time he kissed you and you tried to gnaw at his chest with your nails. Not in malice, but rather to satisfy a ravenous curiosity. A raging need to open him and see just how he ticked. You'd wished to perform an autopsy on his soul. Rip him open and devour all his secrets. Back then you'd wondered if you could kiss sunrises into Anakin's eternal night. Strip him of bleak blackened skies and introduce him to stars and a moon that shines. He'd only vaguely permitted it. Opting to pluck the stars lying within you. Swiping them for steel and lava and other mundane things that fueled his incessant rage. 

Anakin's head dips, lips pressing on your jugular vein. "You're ethereal" Anakin mubbles against your skin, like the dying prayer of a collapsing star. He's so pretty when he kisses your neck. Biting away pieces of you. Stealing your light for himself. 

"Princess" Maul seethes venom pelting from his words. You realize you'd been ignoring him. Something he's not too fond of. "What in the stars was going through your pretty little head?" 

 he looks like he'd love nothing more than to wring your pretty little neck right now. "I just..." your words feel heavy. Tiny bullets polluting your tongue. It feels so cruel to say when you know just how much they love you. "I just wanted some freedom. Just a bit of space." 

"Dumb little angel" Anakin chastes. You lower your head in embarrassment watching Maul kneel in front of you. He cups your cheeks, placing a soft kiss on your head. "You can never escape us beloved".

 "I love you," says Anakin. All you hear is, I'll haunt you, I'll break your ribs one by one so that I may possess your heart. Maybe they mean the same thing. 

"And I'm pretty sure if Maul could feel normal emotions like everyone else, then he'd love you too." You can't help but let out a giggle as Anakin throws his head back laughing. A rare melodious sound, that causes your heart to skip a beat. Maul merely rolls his eyes before pecking you on the lips.

You trace your fingers across Maul's chest, feeling the pummelling of two hearts. A double heartbeat. Two melodies entwined, You wonder who he harbors in those hearts. One for love and one for family. You nip at his bottom lip. Ushering the blood into your mouth. He tastes of Ichor and smoke. Of sadness and rage. From behind you feel Akanin bite into the hollow of your flesh. Leaving traces of himself upon your skin. 

"Our pretty little problem" Anakin mumbles. 

You're a problem, a vexation draped in velvet, an unsolvable equation. Trapped between a love that seethes through your body like a toxin. Engulfing you until your mind relents. Maybe it's easier this way. Easier to say 'I love you' without the double entendre. 

You do love them.

A rather arduous conclusion to reach.

Maul and Anakin.

Palpatine's apprentices. 

Your lovers

Yeah, that sounds about right...

💜💜: @athanasia-day @hotpinkboots @jenn-patterson-69 @nickiiiixoxo-blog @the-chains-are-the-easy-part

[blue-sunflower-bee]

So few nights ago I learnt that securitywaiter is a thing and... I'm already so invested? I'm a sucker for crackships, I always was and i wanna share some of my thoughts for the few other people on here who adore this ship as well

Mike is a tired disaster bi while Ness is a colorful and proud pansexual. He gifted Mike a subtle pride pin with the bi colors when they started dating and Mike has it on his backpack ever since

They had known each other for some time and in the beginning, Mike found Ness' optimism and fun facts quite annoying: Does he never shut up? Who can be so damn happy all the time? That was until Mike visited Sparky's after his first shift at Freddy's for a small breakfast. Ness had almost finished his shift that morning and was the only one there except for the cook. He seemed different that day, less bright and much more thoughtful and only put on a forced smile when Mike had entered the diner. That was when Mike realized that there was probably more behind that happy facade and Ness' smiles. He decided to approach him and they started casually chatting since they were the only ones there. Mike was almost relieved to see Ness smile again after he made a stupid comment, even tho it wasnt as bright as usual.

Ness didnt leave Mike's head since then. He came back to Sparky's with Abby one day and of course, she noticed that the way her brother looked at the kind waiter had changed. In the end it was Ness who made a move and who scribbled his phone number on their receipt

Ness owns a Goldenretriever who he named Freddie. Abby adores him and sometimes when Ness takes care of her, the three of them go for a walk together

Speaking of, Ness is, without doubt, her fav babysitter so far. He's super creative and enjoys drawing just as much as she does and makes up stories when she can't sleep

They definitely painted each other's nails at some point. One time he had the colors of the pan flag on his nails and proudly went to work with it

Ness is a hugger. He loves to hug Mike from behind when he's cooking or sth

They're the "only drinks his coffee black x only drinks his coffee with 5 spoons of sugar and caramell syrup" couple...but i wont tell you who is who

I'll definitely come back for a part 2✌️

[mousical]

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

his engineer, her driver

pairing; female!engineer x lando norris

warnings; none!

type; head cannons

a/n; underrated dynamic me thinks

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

having the cutest radio moments

so many youtube compilations of your interactions

“Radio check please, Lando.”

“I love you!”

“Loud and clear.”

you’re trying to remain professional, but he doesn’t really care

i mean the team is pretty much used to it by now.

that doesn’t mean you aren’t embarrassed every single time he says something affectionate over the radio.

especially because you just know it’s going to get broadcasted.

sky sports eats it up every single time

getting scared every time he crashes, but also having to stay composed.

“Are you okay? Confirm you’re okay.”

“M’ Okay. Were you worried about me?”

“Engine off.”

needed to set clear boundaries to separate your work from your relationship

there were definitely some arguments after sochi 2021

as soon as you’re both off track, work talk is BANNED

no matter how much you try to explain it, he has no idea how the car works.

“I just don’t get it. How is Red Bull so fast on the straights?”

“I told you. Their sidepod design really minimizes drag while still optimizing down force. It’s actually pretty brilliant-“

“Yeah, okay- but, like, how are they so fast?”

“You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

him defending you in the media when bad strategy calls are made

you cheering him up in the garage after a dnf.

you making regular appearances on lando.jpeg.

constantly posting him on your story.

representing mclaren on the podium for his first win and celebrating with him!!

champagne kisses omg

surprise cameos in mclaren media videos and in the media pen!

occasionally making appearances on stream and in Quadrant videos.

always being paired together in the team videos! you carrying the both of you in the jeopardy video with your knowledge of F1.

him carrying the two of you in the mario kart video because as smart as you may be, you are a terrible driver.

the both of you facing a bit of controversy in both your shared workplace and on social media

having to deal with nosy reporters

“I guess it can be tough sometimes- but I love what I do, and I love being a part of this team. Lando is my best friend, and my partner in every sense of the word. We support each other and understand the unique demands of our careers.

Honestly, being in love with someone who shares your passion for the same thing is incredibly special. We get to experience some of the most exciting moments of our lives together, and that's something I wouldn't trade for anything."

with both of your very busy lives, you definitely prefer staying in whenever you get the chance.

much of summer break is spent snuggling under the covers and binging all the tv shows that you missed during the season.

always being the first person to congratulate him over the radio! and the first one he goes to after getting out of the car.

“That’s P5 Lando! Incredible drive, love.”

“The car was beautiful today, let’s keep up the good work!”

“Recharge on, darling.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

passing notes to each other during briefing sessions

one time zac caught you passing lando a note and made you read it out loud.

“You’re so cute when you’re not paying attention.”

in conclusion you two would be the most dynamic duo in the paddock ok thank you bye

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

[sch-com]

Specific manifestations of schizoid PD in my life

see similar post for anakastic PD / OCPD

When I first heard of my personality disorders, it was hard for me to notice their role in my life. Part of it was that I was younger, and with less experiences, but part of it was that by nature PDs are so ingrained it's hard to see the full scope of their influence. Particularly I struggled to see the "dysfunction" part - I was thinking that sure, I do experience that, but is it really that bad? And you can't have a PD without the dysfunction, so do I even count? I think that now, after some time and more reflections, I can say I do see the dysfunction, so I thought to share my observations.

Using the DSM V criteria for schizoid PD:

1/ Neither wants nor likes close relationships, counting being part of a family / Has no close friends other than immediate relatives

When I was first moving out for university, I didn't really have any close enough friends I would feel truly comfortable moving with. It limited my choices, and influenced the one I ultimately made (a mistake).

Also, when I was moved out and experienced my first full-blown mental health crisis, I didn't have anyone around me to rely on.

Studying in uni is much harder when I am not talking with people in my class. Normally students support each other, share notes etc I imagine. I have to do everything alone.

Talking to people = opportunities. And support. Real, material support of being physically near. Going to places together, someone having a job opprotunity, hell even having anyone around in case of an emergency.

I suspect at least part of my emotional problems can be attributed to my self-imposed isolation. Occassionaly when I do talk to someone, it's like... an altered mental state, in a good way. When I laugh, I feel physically good. And it's easier to laugh with other people around. It's the little things I think, that are crucial and I am largely missing out on.

2/ Almost constantly picks introverted activities

Sharing what you do can help you progress faster. Sharing your art and getting critique, joining language classes. Sure I can do all of this on my own as well, but it may be sub-optimal. I think it's a matter of balance - and if I consistently choose to opt out of group activities, it could be seen as dysfunctional.

Also again, doing stuff with other people = meeting other people = getting the social connection, vital for even physical health, and gaining access to opportunities and support.

Other people can also motivate you, or keep you accountable for doing something. When I do (almost) everything on my own, I have to well, rely on my motivation / determination, which is often hard (more on that in 4/).

3/ Has little if any, thought in engaging in any sexual experiences

Frankly I am asexual, so I wouldn't say it's causing me any distress. I suppose that lack of sexual life can be viewed as lack of a major life activity, if you want to interpret it that way.

However, somewhat connected to 4/, it's hard for me to say 100% that sex life is something I truly don't want, or if it's just another thing I am opting out of out of the lack of reward. More on that below.

4/ Seldom derives pleasure from any activities

The emotional implications are written into the criterium itself. Lack of pleasure is I think dysfunctional already.

But, adding on the above - lack of pleasure/satisfaction definitely made me lose a lot of motivation for doing anything. I have disengaged from hobbies because of it. I have disengaged from studies, from social activities, from even simple things watching movies, reading, or cooking a good meal because of this. I have to force myself to do pretty much anything. There is not a single thing that I do simply because I truly enjoy it - I need another reason on top, like an obligation.

What I mean by the above, is that... I think I have opted out of things because they don't bring me much emotional reward, not the other way around (so it's NOT that I don't get a lot of joy because I don't do things). I remember when I was younger and more active in life, doing something like travelling, or acomplishing something, and emotionally not getting anything out of it. So I wished I was just in bed and not doing the thing, because at least it's less effort, for the same emotional reward (= lack thereof). And as I became an adult with more control over my day-to-day, I stopped many major life activities because I can. And it's all the same.

5/ Appears apathetic to the admiration or disapproval of others

For me it's largely related to 4/, because I don't get much internal reward from external stimuli, it also manifests in how this criterium describes it.

I've had people believe in me in the past. Try to encourage me, praise me, tell me they see a potential. But I... couldn't believe them. I don't feel this, it's all the same if I am awarded something or not. External rewards don't cause internal reaction, so like why bother? Why bother going after this hard thing, winning a competition, if after I acomplished it it's all the same void? I put the effort into something, only for this to not matter. So I stopped putting so much effort.

I think it may also discourage others from trying to help me, because historically I haven't shown much reaction, or improvement, or gratefulness for their honest efforts. To give up on me, because I seem like this empty shell of a person. But I don't really know, I think it would have to be someone else to confirm this.

6/ Shows emotional coldness, detachment, or flattened affectivity

People told me that I appear flat and so it's hard for them to read me. It's hard to know what I think, and some became afraid that I was judging them, when I... I don't? Overall, this one makes it really hard to connect to others and to be understood. So it makes me feel even more like an alien.

I have also hurt people because of this. Because I detach, I isolate, I forget about people. I am the friend you have to message to get a conversation, or schedule a meetup, because I don't initiate. I know it's a hard position to be in, and I don't want to hurt anyone, so I only disengaged more to not even have any friends that would care about me enough to be hurt by my isolation.

Because I seem all the same (flat and withdrawn) all the time, it's harder to notice when I am struggling. I can be in the throws of depression and actively suicidal, but outward appear pretty much the same. So people don't believe me, not even professionals, and I have been neglected because of this.

[a-very-sparkly-nerd]

TDPtober

Day 2: Love

Let the record state that Rayla had done the impossible many times before. She’d start listing, but that would take hours.

She could probably take on the Katolian soldiers armed with every kind of weapon under the sun surrounding her, especially with Runaan’s help–despite his newly-awakened pacifist side, which she couldn’t really blame him for–but that really wouldn’t look good, not when she’d been arrested before and Runaan was the elf who’d killed their king.

“When I give the signal, we’ll run,” she whispered to Runaan. She could change the plan; get him to the Silvergrove, and by the time she got back, Callum would surely be here, able to order the Crownguard to stand the hell down.

“What’s the signal?”

“Me screaming really loud.”

“Good signal.”

“Thanks.”

Rayla crouched, readying her already-unsheathed blades and stepping in front of Runaan. The soldiers closest, wielding swords, began to rush her, and she leapt into the air. More started to rush a newly-exposed Runaan, and Rayla opened her mouth to give the signal despite the wind being knocked out of her lungs, when a trumpeting horn and galloping hooves cut her off.

“Stand down,” a familiar masculine voice boomed. The troops parted for General Amaya in all her shiny-armored, muscular glory, her face set as she signed furiously while dismounting Aegis. Commander Gren stood to her side, watching and interpreting. “If anyone touches a hair on this elf's head, answering to me will be the least of your worries.”

Bows were hastily un-notched, swords sheathed, and postures at ease.

Rayla stumbled back to shield Runaan, but then held still as Amaya and Gren approached her, trying not to look suspicious regarding Runaan. Y’know, because he'd killed their king and all.

That wouldn't be a great icebreaker.

“Callum’s back in Katolis,” she started, too uncomfortable with the silence. “He went there and I came here. We, um- we agreed.” If you ever hurt my nephew Callum again, I will kill you.

“King Ezran went back, too,” Gren informed her, glancing back to Amaya's racing hands. “They'll likely have met up. We have to assume the best.”

“I thought it was ‘assume the worst’?”

She cracked a smile.

“Optimism is necessary, too, Rayla.”

“Listen,” she started. “I'm doing my best to keep him safe. I'd never-”

General Amaya crouched down to make eye contact, gripping her shoulders in a way that was probably gentle to her, but objectively the exact opposite. Rayla stiffened, bracing for her to make good on her promise. But-

“Are you alright?”

She blinked and would've stumbled back in surprise if not for the death-grip. “What?”

“Are you alright?” Her signing was careful and delicate, at least to Rayla’s untrained eyes, and Gren’s voice equally soft and soothing.

She forced herself to look into those dark brown eyes, holding so much love and patience and concern. The way Ezran and Callum looked at her.

Rayla looked away, suddenly choked up, and wiped at her face with her arm. “Yes. I- I’m okay.”

“Good.”

She looked back, just not at the general. Just at the very interesting grass between her steel-toed boots. “You're really not…” Mad? Furious? Disappointed? Upset?

But the latest queen of New Aurea didn't punch her, didn't sign-yell at her, didn't anything other than shake her head and promise, “There's been way too much fighting and anger lately. You're my niece and I love you, and I'm so glad you're okay.”

That… It wasn't what she'd been expecting. For Callum or Ezran, definitely, but for Rayla…?

But, yeah, it was on-brand. One word she'd use to describe Callum's entire family was loving, and it never seemed to stop extending to her.

She sniffed, reaching a tentative hand out. “May I…?”

The response she got was being lifted off the ground in big muscular arms, warm and hard but soft at the same time, scooped off her feet and held tight.

She sniffed into the crook of a soft padded tunic not covered by gleaming armor, burying her face in that little pocket and fruitlessly trying to glue that dam back together.

Amaya gently settled Rayla back on her feet, but didn't stop hugging her tightly, beginning to sob, too, not at all hindering her iron hold.

“I love you, too,” she whispered, and cried some more.

[loveandpeaceanddoughnuts]

Bakery Girl and Salaryman ~ Ch. 2

Nanami found your number!! I feel like he would be so awkward and out of practice when it comes to dating, but would do his best to be the gentleman you deserve // [ao3]

It’s been three days since Nanami last came in. You tell yourself you shouldn’t care, but your nerves are wound tight. What if he was offended that you gave him your number? Not that it was you, exactly, but how would he know? He probably has a beautiful, sexy, rich girlfriend, and the two of them are probably making fun of the frazzled bakery girl this very second.

You knead this morning’s batch of dough with extra intensity as you torture yourself. He might never come in again. Your heart drops as you remember his admission that the local convenience store stopped selling his favorite sandwiches. Oh god. Did you embarrass yourself so much that he’s giving up sandwiches forever?!

You huff your bangs off your forehead, pushing up your uniform hat with a floury elbow. Okay, maybe you’re losing it a little. You squint at your friend, who lingers uncomfortably in the kitchen doorway. She kept up the teasing at first, but her enthusiasm had dwindled by the second Nanami-less afternoon. Today she’s positively reserved, flashing you pitying glances when she thinks you aren’t paying attention.

It may be technically her fault, but you don’t want your own tension to infect her. You offer a smile, making room at the countertop. “Don’t worry about it, okay? Whatever happens, happens.”

Her shoulders slumped in relief as she joined you. “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t think he’d quit coming around…I overstepped.”

“Honestly, I would’ve given him my number myself if I had the guts. If that scares him off, he’s not the guy for me.” You shrug it off, false optimism sugar-coating your voice, but she doesn’t notice.

The awkwardness fades as you both fall back into the workday routine, filling the display window with fresh pastries and cheerfully greeting sleepy commuters on their way to work. You do your best to force Nanami out of your mind, resolutely ignoring the fact that you will be off work the next few days. If you don’t get some sort of resolution today, the stress will sit in your stomach until you clock back in.

That’s the thought on your mind when you head out on your break, turning the corner at the end of the street to head for your favorite bento stand, when you see him.

Nanami is standing across the street from you, one hand in his pinstriped pocket while the other holds a cell phone to his ear. You can faintly hear him chastising someone through it.

“Gojo, please. You know I don’t like asking for help. I really don’t need you making fun of me on top of that.” He cradles the phone against his shoulder now, freeing up his hand to gesture at the empty air. “It’s been a while, okay? I don’t want to-” a bus passes between the two of you, spoiling your eavesdropping. By the time it passes, he’s walked further away down the street, and is standing in the shade of a shop awning to frown at something on his phone screen. He takes a deep breath, taps something in, and waits.

You feel your phone vibrate in your back pocket, and fish it out, impatient at the interruption. You’re curious about what Nanami’s like outside of your lunch encounters, and eager to spy a bit more. The call is from a number you don’t recognize, so you let it ring and shove it back in your pocket.

Across the street, Nanami’s shoulders drop just as your phone stops buzzing. After a beat, you see him start talking again, and the small part of your brain that isn’t completely focused on enjoying the view points out that you maybe shouldn’t be standing there staring.

If you haven’t scared him off yet, catching you stalking him from across the street will definitely do it. You blow out a breath and head for the bento stand, eating while you walk back to work. You wave at your friend, elbow-deep in dishes, and check your phone before putting it back in your locker.

The unknown number left a voicemail. Weird, but not too weird. Probably someone calling about your car’s extended warranty. You absentmindedly let it play through the speaker as you tie on your apron.

Hello. This is Nanami Kento. From the bakery. Thank you for... well, I found this number on the bag you gave me. I couldn't help but wonder if it was meant for me. If it wasn't, please disregard this message, of course.

But if it was, well, I just wanted to say thank you. It was a… pleasant surprise. If you're open to it, I'd like to get to know you better.

If I've misinterpreted things, I apologize. Otherwise, I'd be happy to hear from you whenever you're comfortable reaching out.

A pause stretches for what feels like thirty seconds, static crackling uncertainly.

Take care. [click]

“Ohmygod!” you and your friend squeal at the same time. You can feel your pulse in your neck, your heart racing.

Your friend stifles giggles behind her hand, then squints at you. “Does he…always sound like that?”

You roll your eyes. “I’ll have you know he’s an actual gentleman, unlike your usual type.” Even as you tease her, you do wonder why he sounded so formal. And a phone call of all things? A voicemail?

“I definitely thought he’d text, if anything,” you concede, shaking your head and smiling.

She wiggles her eyebrows at you suggestively. “So are you 'comfortable reaching out'?”

“I mean, it sounds like he wants me to, right?” You bite the inside of your cheek. “He wants to get to know me better.” You can’t hide the smile that takes over at that. “I want that too.”

You friend claps her hands as she hears you admit it. “So call him back!”

God, I can’t believe I’m going to call someone up like it’s the 90s. But if you were to do it for anyone… a mental image of Nanami floats into your mind, tired smile on his pretty lips, and your fear goes out the window. “I’m doing it!”

He picks up on the second ring, the punctual bastard. You barely have a script ready in your head.

“Hi! This is the girl from the bakery! I just got your voicemail.” You can hear office phones ringing in the background, and the murmur of voices. Fuck, of course he’d be at work. Why didn’t you think of that?

“Is… this a bad time?” You hear the shuffle of papers and the sound of a door closing, muffling the background noise.

“No, not at all. It’s… great to hear from you.” His voice is tired, but you imagine you can hear a smile softening the words.

“You too. I was starting to think I had made a fool of myself…”

“Why would you think that?” He sounded serious, shocked at the possibility.

“Ah, well… you haven’t been in the last few days. Not that I expect it! I just, well I thought I might have overstepped. Not that it was even me, my friend wrote my number on the bag, I had no idea, I just…”

You hear him take a breath. “I see. So, it was a mistake then. I apologize, I didn’t mean to assume anything. I wasn’t sure it was intentional in the first place…”

Shit shit shit. “Oh that isn’t what I meant! I definitely wanted to give you my number, I just didn’t know how, and if you’d even want it...” You trail off, head fuzzy with how quickly this conversation had derailed. You ignore your friend’s frantic gestures asking for explanation, and clutch the phone tighter.

“I see”, he says, slowly. “So you don’t mind that I called, then?”

“Not at all. I’d love to get to know you better, Nanami.”

There’s a long pause on the other end, and you worry you’ve blown your chance.

“I’d like that too.”

You let out a shaky breath, and try to sound confident again. “So, you haven’t been avoiding our bakery then?”

He sighs. “No, and I’ve missed it, just as I thought I would. Work has been…”

“You can tell me,” you say earnestly.

“Work is shit.”

You both laugh, the tension breaking. He continues, “I’ve been taking lunch at my desk for the past few days, and it certainly isn’t the same.”

“How about I take you to dinner to make up for it?” You aren’t sure where the boldness comes from, and out of the corner of your eye you see your friend fake a swoon, fanning herself madly. You stick out your tongue at her.

“I believe I'm the one who should be asking you that,” Nanami answers, but you hear the smile in his deep voice.

“Well, I’m free tomorrow night. You could pick me up from work? I’m off at six.”

“Six. That sounds wonderful.”

He sounds wonderful. You try to keep your excitement at reasonable levels. You’re not exactly playing hard to get, but you don’t want him to hear you giggling and kicking your feet through the phone. “I’ll be here, Nanami.”

“Please, call me Kento. I’m looking forward to it.”

“See you tomorrow then, Kento.”

Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.

———————————————————

@kxllanxtdoor tagged as requested<3

[fedorasaurus]

DEUS EX SPOILERS

I finally beat the game yesterday! I'm sure you're curious to know what ending I got.

First, let me go over my thoughts about each of the options that were presented (I assume it was only these three):

Morgan's offer -- Spare the base. Join him in leading the world via the Illuminati, which will definitely not be tyrannical.

I don't trust him. Not after seeing what he did to DeBeers (locking him in a cold stasis pod under his house and using him for his knowledge while lying about curing him, taking sole control over the Illuminati in his place). Is that going to be JC's fate, too? Plus, even with JC's compassion, I don't see what good can come of a secret society running the world. Joining the big conspiracy goes against everything JC fought for up to this point. Maybe he can make a change for the better, though?

Tracer's offer -- Destroy the base, activating a massive EMP blast that will disable electronic tech worldwide. Society will be returned to the "dark ages," but from there, everyone will be on equal footing, and we can rebuild to a better, more fair society, where no one government or billionaire can control everyone/everything.

Like JC says, "that sounds overkill." Then again, Tracer's hope and optimism is compelling. It's not that advanced tech would NEVER return, anyway. Now it has the chance to be rebuilt under better circumstances. Maybe this time we can use tech to help people rather than harm them. One thing gives me pause, though: this is a sudden, worldwide change, which most people will not be ready for. A lot of people will be harmed by this at first. Think about it: no hospital equipment, no refrigerators, no phones to contact people in an emergency. I certainly don't know enough about farming to be self-sufficient, nor am I in shape enough for long term physical labor. But, I also think... If forgoing the use of modern technology means, for example, that nukes no longer existed, I think it's worth it.

Helios' offer -- Combine JC with the AI, using his augs and Helios' vast knowledge to control the world.

This sounds scary on the face of it. Trust a machine to handle running the lives of humans? Helios makes a compelling argument, though. It doesn't have ambitions. It's simply programmed to protect people and help the world run smoothly. No emotion or ulterior motives that can be bribed into doing what some wealthy benefactor wants. Though, any fan of System Shock would sweat a little at this, recalling that Shodan was programmed for a similar purpose, and her solution to "protecting people" was to... make it so that there were no more people. Come to think of it, Helios never elaborated on their plan to protect people. A machine built on spy software and internet data, relying on algorithms to make decisions, it's concerning. But combined with JC, maybe it could work. JC would have to do a lot of emotional heavy-lifting, but maybe he can keep the AI in line. We also found out that... people are already kind of okay with Helios opening up the roads and shutting down the criminal organizations. JC does wonder, though, if Helios is trying to learn about people in order to control, not help them.

As a sidenote, Bob sounds like SUCH a jealous lover when he finds out that Helios wants JC and not him. God, hearing the villain lose his shit when he knows he's at a disadvantage is delightful after everything we've endured at his hand. All he can do is sit behind his force field and yell at us. You got got, Bob!

Alright, so, what choice did I make for my first playthrough?

---

Deus Ex handles the endings in an interesting way. There's no obvious "GOOD" or "BAD" ending. Each option has positive and negative consequences, and it's up to the player to decide, based on what they learned and discovered throughout the game, what feels right to them. Even Paul trusts JC to follow his heart, supporting him whatever he chooses (god, I love Paul 😭).

Part of my decision also came from just having a difficult time navigating the Area 51 base. Other folks in Chat had similar experiences, so I'm glad I'm not alone there, but it got to a point where I was mulling two choices around in my mind but ended up committing to one because there was no way I'd be able to find my way back if I changed my mind again (yes, the game gives you maps, but even in real life I struggle without a point of reference of my current location 💀).

Plus, Helios was weirdly pushy. "Yes, you will do this," "You will go there, do that." It was uncomfortable, kind of bossy. JC had an option, but Helios still acted like it was bent on controlling things. Maybe I can chalk it up to the language processing of a machine, though.

The ending I picked on this run, you can probably guess, was the New Dark Age ending. Tracer's hope is something I can really vibe with. His, "Come find us, JC!" got me really emotional, in fact. The game doesn't explicitly show JC escaping and reuniting with his friends, but I believe he does. Something made me second-guess my choice, though: the animals and workers who are still alive on the base. The mechanic who tries desperately to stop JC when he presses the three buttons to start the reaction. I really hope they all had enough time to evacuate. I'm okay sacrificing my own life to save everyone, but taking others down with me feels terrible. It's left ambiguous, though. In fact, the ending only shows JC running from the facility while it crumbles. Did we make the right choice, in the end? Is society going to be okay? It isn't shown. I like that, though. Let the player imagine how the future plays out. We weighed the options and followed our heart, and really, that's all anyone can do.

I believe it all worked out.

I'll get the other endings next week and see if any of them feel more "right," and then we'll see how Invisible War handles the continuation of the story (one thing's for sure: Alex Denton must have escaped somehow 👀)!

[hroscek]

✎📃Dottore studying headcanons📚

Back again with more Dottore content. This is a bit of a mix between a modern au but still somehow compliant with Genshin? Idk I just wanted to write ab him studying and projecting finding inspiration in my own life without having to explain how he has access to YouTube in his akademiya days okay? Anyways enjoy and make sure to study if you happen to be procrastinating at the moment (I will know)!

⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜

Dottore study headcanons

Probably the type that ultra-focuses on the material in front of him leading to generally neglecting any and all other needs until he physically can't anymore (nearly burnt down his dorm via hair catching fire from a candle when he fell asleep at the desk)

Thinks he's above attending lectures so he'd definitely be that one student that never shows up but still ends up acing the exams.

Fully believes that he must achieve a state of total focus to optimize his brain. This starts as threatening the other students into leaving him alone as he studies, drawing the curtains and shutting out all other distractions. Probably spent too much on finding a good noise-cancelling headset.

After getting kicked out gracefully parting ways with the akademiya he devoted some time to trying to find ways to improve his focus even more. I'm talking full blown rounds of experimentation with different methods such as binaural beats (actually works tbh), sensory deprivation tanks etc. Sort of how greater lord rukkhadevata would shut herself away to meditate, but he would never admit how similar their methods are.

Honestly I wouldn't be surprised if the original Dottore is just floating in a state of meditation rn trying to achieve max brain power (legit a headcanon for me now lmao).

Seeing as he probably doesn't sleep much, especially when in the thick of experiments he tries his best to compensate in other ways. He drank an inhuman amount of coffee or energy drinks (or both at the same time tbh) until he grew a tolerance to all forms of caffeine and is now forced to actually sleep once in a while.

He is intimately familiar with is work area and instantly knows where everything is. To outsiders it looks like a mess of various documents, piles of paper, supplies and mechanical parts. Often he asks a new intern to fetch him a sheet or something and they'll spend hours looking for it in the raven's nest that man calls an office. Then he'll show up pissed as hell like "It was under the desk next to the 3rd used energy core. Are you really that stupid?".

When he's in the zone he's deathly silent, his eyes laser focused on whatever page or machine he's trying to figure out. An observer might be afraid he'll burn a hole trough the object with his eyes. This is probably the only time he doesn't wear his mask as he doesn't want anything to obstruct him. Archons couldn't help the unfortunate soul who dares to interrupt him in this state. Instant volunteer for his next experiment.

Pantalone once decided to gift him with an expensive stationery set in a desperate attempt to get him to organize his study. It included quills, ink, various highlighters and organizers all in pastels with cute motifs. "To bring some positivity to the gloomy atmosphere around you!". Dottore claimed to hate it but was seen months later using a kitten-themed notepad at one of his labs.

✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮

Another post, another slay (probs a flop). I'm currently taking a half-voluntary gap year because I decided to switch universities a little too late in the year oops. And honestly in this time I've realized how much I thrive in the academic environment and I miss studying so much! Idk might sound a bit too optimistic coming from someone who's currently not under any pressing deadlines or tests but I really do miss it. As much as I hated crunching the night before a test and stressed about the material I believe it's an environment I truly thrive in. I really do find such comfort in being able to take notes, discuss with classmates and professors. It's probably one of the many reasons I find Dottore relatable. We both share such a thirst for knowledge and focus way too much on our favorite subjects. I'm rambling, sorry. Thank you so much for reading and please don't be shy to send me asks or comments with ideas you'd like me to expand upon. I'm still pretty new to writing in fandom space so I'd really be grateful to get feedback and see what the community wants lol.

Have a good day! ❀

[wisteria-lodge]

SORTING DISNEY VILLAINS (1937-1989)

For  *spooky season.* I suspect this will be easier than sorting the heroes, who tend to be reactive while villains are very clear about what they want and what exactly they’re going to do to get it. Let’s see if this ends up being the case. 

I go into a lot more detail about this character analysis system here, and talk about the move away from the HP terminology here. But here are the basics: 

PRIMARY (ie MOTIVE)

BADGER ~ Loyal to the group.

SNAKE ~ Loyal to yourself and your Important People.

LION ~ Subconscious Idealist. Ideals are linked to feelings and instincts.

BIRD ~ Conscious Idealist. Ideals are linked to built systems and external facts.

SECONDARY (ie METHOD)

BADGER ~ Connect with the group. Make allies, work steadily and well. Be whatever the situation calls for. If you find a locked door, knock.

SNAKE ~ Connect with the environment. Notice things. Tell people what they want to hear. If you find a locked door, get in through the window.

BIRD ~ Collect skills, knowledge, tools, personas, useful friends. If you find a locked door, track down the key or learn to pick the lock.

LION ~ Be honest, be direct, speak your truth. Either the obstacle is going down or you are. If you find a locked door, kick it in.

THE EVIL QUEEN (1937) - BURNT BADGER / BIRD

So. I know that in Snow White the Queen's Thing is Vanity, but.  The ‘Vain Villainess’ trope is about the fear of becoming less powerful in a world that only values you for your looks.... which doesn’t actually seem to be her issue? The Queen seems pretty darn unchallenged in her universe. That’s almost part of the problem - there’s an addiction/obsession/paranoia flavor to the way she’s constantly checking in with the Mirror.

I don’t think the Queen is actually obsessed with Snow White’s beauty. I think she’s obsessed with her innocence, her “heart” (that’s literally what she asks the Huntsman to bring her, Snow’s heart in a box.) Snow White isn’t just the “fairest” as in the prettiest, but the fairest as in the most fair-minded, the most honorable. The presence of Snow, with her optimism, kindness, and trust is an existential threat, proof that the Queen is going about things all wrong. The power we see her wield definitely has an edge of sadism: She forces Snow to wear rags (none of the other princesses wear *rags.*) And I’ll be haunted by this image of the Queen’s dungeons forever.

So even though my first instinct was to go Hedonist Snake primary for the Evil Queen, that’s not right. She’s not focused on enjoying herself. She doesn’t seem conscious enough of her own desires to be a Bird, and Exploded Lion is possible… but I’m going with Burnt Badger. An obsession with being “Fairest of them all” seems to suggest a group-focused, External-facing primary, and I absolutely see how the extremely UnBurnt Badger Snow White would really get under a Burnt Badger’s skin. 

Obviously a Bird secondary. The Evil Queen is Mad Scientist coded, even has a literal evil laboratory. The “Old Crone” plan features a transformation, a costume, and is very much an Actor Bird persona.  

THE WICKED STEPMOTHER (1950) - SNAKE / BADGER

While she does seem to get some sort of sadistic pleasure out of controlling Cinderella, the Wicked Stepmother’s main motivation is her daughters. Her daughters kind of suck, but that doesn’t actually matter. The Stepmother is going to make sure they get that happy ending, with all the targeted loyalty of a Snake Primary. There’s a Badger secondary in there too, which you can see in the way she’s… subtle. The Stepmother takes away Cinderella‘s privilege bit by bit… but never actually goes after her directly. She manipulates her daughters into doing her dirty work (like the way they tear up Cinderella’s dress) so she can always maintain plausible deniability. She’s prim, she’s proper, she’s Lady Tremaine. Dark Courtier Badger, all the way. 

THE QUEEN OF HEARTS (1951) - LION / LION

This Queen’s thing is that she’s childish. She wants what she wants NOW. Doesn’t matter if it makes sense, doesn’t matter if it’s impossible. The Queen of Hearts functions as both a lesson to Alice (authority figures don’t always know what they’re talking about) and as a warning (this could be you if you don’t navigate the transition to adulthood properly.) I see a very young Glory Hound Lion primary in the way she forces everyone else to cheat so she gets the emotional reward of winning the croquet game. I also want to attribute the Queen of Hearts’ extremely short fuse to her Lion primary - she acts on what she’s feeling the *second* she starts feeling it, and never questions this. Also she's a Lion secondary. There’s no plan. She lives in Wonderland. She’s living moment to moment.

CAPTAIN HOOK (1953) - BADGER / SNAKE

Unlike the Queen of Hearts, Captain Hook does not seem to be *of* the magical land he lives in. He is this outside force trying to impose order on Neverland, leading the only rigid organization there and constantly tying up/imprisoning the main characters. Hook is also the only one threatened by the concept of time (the ticking crocodile.) *Peter* will never grow old. But somehow Captain Hook will? Or feels like he will? Tradition also says that the actor playing Wendy’s controlling father should play Hook as well (the Disney film uses the same voice actor in both roles) so there's definitely something about toxic order going on. In the world of Peter Pan, Hook/Father becomes representative of adulthood/society/the Man. That makes him an Authoritarian Badger primary, defined by his organizations.

For his secondary - Hook’s not much of a planner. He’s most effective while he is talking an angry Tinker Bell into helping him, and in that scene he’s charming. He flatters her, pivots according to what he thinks she wants to hear, and while Courtier Badger secondary is possible, I think this feels more like Snake. (I also think you have to be some kind of Improvisational secondary in order to hold your own against Peter.) It makes sense - Hook has to be appealing and seductive as well as threatening, because that's kind of what adulthood is.

MALEFICENT (1959) - BIRD / LION

Maleficent feels socially slighted in a very *abstract* way. She doesn’t seem to have an emotional response to either the other fairies OR the King and Queen OR Aurora. Her curse doesn’t have anything to do with with her social standing, or her power, or her role in the kingdom. We actually don’t know what Maleficent’s deal is. Maybe by not inviting her to the christening the kingdom has broken some important Rule of hers. Or maybe she’s just torturing people because she’s bored, and this is a fun Project. (That is her plan with Phillip after all, and this image will ALSO always haunt me.)

But either way, she’s a Bird primary. The only question is if she’s more of a System-Building Bird, or a Project Bird. 

Unusually for such a cold villain, I think I want to give her a Lion secondary. She’s patient, and her plans take place over long time-frames, but the plans themselves are direct - “When your daughter turns sixteen, I will kill her.” Done. Also, when Maleficent is threatened, she turns into a giant dragon who certainly does not plan, and her goons (while useless) are very loyal. So another point for Inspirational secondary.

CRUELLA DE VIL (1961) - LION / LION

Cruella wants a coat made out of Dalmatian puppies. That’s  it. So I'm putting her in the same category as Hannibal Lecter, someone doing this for the *art,*  the ~*~aesthetic~*~ of the thing. But unlike Hannibal, nothing about Cruella is cold or considered. I don’t think she’d be able to tell you why she wants that Dalmatian coat apart from “It’s fabulous, darling.” So instead of going Bird primary (the typical Weird Villain sorting) I’m saying she's a Lion. Cruella seems to have an aesthetic-based morality: "fabulous" and "non-fabulous," instead of "good" and "bad." She’s a Fay Lion primary, like Jack Sparrow.

Her secondary is harder. She definitely has goons, but they’re useless, and don’t seem to like her much. She doesn’t plot or face-change. She clearly likes Anita and doesn’t like Roger, and never bothers to mask this. Cruella first tries to buy the puppies - then sort of seems surprised when this doesn’t work? Honestly, the main impression I get from her is that she’s… not trying very hard. She only really starts to care right at the very end, when she’s driving with wild hair and crazy eyes, as her roadster falls apart around her. I’m going with Lion secondary to reflect that tendency she has to operate at either 1% or 100%.

MADAME MIM (1963) - LION / SNAKE

Madame Mim has a sort of a professional rivalry going on with Merlin, and dislikes when Wart calls him “the greatest wizard in the land.” So of course she challenges him to a wizard duel. She wants to be the best, she wants to win… and that’s all there is to it. So we have another Glory Hound Lion primary. 

It’s very clear that Madame Mim loves transformation. She switches between her different faces as many times as she possibly can over the course of a single conversation. Notably, she has a sexy version of herself that she uses to charm people into doing what she wants… and there’s no reason she couldn’t wear that all the time. But she doesn’t want to. Mim gets a lot of joy out of her fluid Snake secondary, and when she’s not solving a problem she just wants to chill out in Neutral. 

PRINCE JOHN (1973) - EXPLODED SNAKE / BIRD

Prince John’s motivation has a couple of  layers. Obviously, he’s a *little* bit too excited about taxing on the citizens of Nottingham… but that’s because he’s overcompensating. His main visual design element is a crown that doesn’t fit. He’s not King John, he's Prince John, only in charge until his other (better) brother Richard comes home from the Crusades. That’s why he’s so easily flattered - he’s incredibly insecure. But his conflict isn't with Richard, exactly. It’s really... mommy issues. Everything John does is to please Mummy (an off screen-character.) Very Exploded Snake primary. 

Secondary is hard because John is incompetent. He mostly solves problems by pointing the Sheriff of Nottingham at them. It’s a running joke that he doesn’t actually listen to his advisor Sir Hiss, who generally has the right idea but isn't a suck-up. I guess John does lay kind of sophisticated traps for Robin Hood?  They don’t work, but the intent at least is Bird. So I guess I would have to go with that - a pretty incompetent Bird secondary. 

PROFESSOR RATIGAN (1986) - BURNT SNAKE / BIRD

Unlike Madame Mim and Merlin, whatever Basil of Baker Street and Ratigan have going on does not feel like a professional rivalry. Technically Ratigan is plotting a coup… but he spends approximately 85% of his on-screen time entirely focused on Basil. They are at least ex-friends who now hate each other (and it’s really easy to read them as straight-up bitter exes.) Even his hatred of being called a “rat” seems to be linked to Basil - that's an insult Basil uses, implying that Ratigan is motivated by hedonism and ego, and not by the purity of the puzzle the way that Bird Primary Basil is. Really, he’s criticizing Ratigan for having a Snake primary motivation. 

Ratigan is very obviously a very loud Bird secondary. He loves lists, he loves Rube-Goldberg devices. He’s based off Professor Moriarty, it's Snake Bird all the way down.

URSULA THE SEA WITCH (1989) - SNAKE / BIRD

So Ursula wants to take over, be the new monarch of the sea… which is usually a Glory Hound Lion motivation. But there's the implication the she's doing this to specifically screw over Triton... which would make her more of a Snake. Ursula also has a *very* hedonistic approach to life, something you often see in Snake primaries with small circles. It's just her and her “babies," the eels Flotsam and Jetsam. He eels also seem very emotionally important to her, as far as villain minions go. This could be another example of Snake primary loyalty.

I don't know, I just think a Lion primary Ursula would be angrier, more of a Scar. She’s doing her own thing, and makes use of an opportunity that falls into her lap. This is structurally a story about King Triton (who has the big emotional arc and the most character change) so it makes sense that she is specifically a Triton villain, and Ariel was just unlucky enough to get in the way.

I'm actually going to say Bird secondary for Ursula. I agree that she gives off Snake secondary *vibes,* and absolutely might model or perform it for fun. But the way she wins over Ariel is by spouting facts very fast and very confidently, then getting her to sign a bad contract - it’s a Corrupt Lawyer beat more than anything. Vanessa, Ursula's alternate form, is more an Actor Bird transformation (Wicked Queen style) and less a Snake secondary playing around (Madame Mim style.) Vanessa is Ursula's version of Ariel - she even speaks with Ariel's voice. That's a Bird secondary approach. When Ursula‘s plans start falling apart, she doesn't pivot. She starts looking very Lion secondary - exactly like Bird secondary Ariel does when she’s overwhelmed.

Tl;dr 

Double Lion -  Queen of Hearts, Cruella De Vil

Lion Snake - Madame Mim

Snake Bird - Prince John, Professor Ratigan, Ursula

Snake Badger - Wicked Stepmother

Badger Snake - Captain Hook

Badger Bird - Evil Queen

Bird Lion - Maleficent

[ornii]

My Better Bitter Half, Part 9

Part 9: Pilgrimage

“Let's assess, shall we? Bag over my head for optimal disorientation, wrists tied tight enough to cut off circulation, and no idea if I'm going to live or die. It's definitely my kind of party.”

(Y/n) and Wednesday, twins were bagged and dragged into a dark decrepit hole unbeknownst of their location.

“Who dares breach our inner sanctum?” A haunting voice comes out, their masks were suddenly taken off as they look around, and realize they’re still in the library.

“You can take the mask off, Bianca.” Wednesday says.

“And just like that, my hopes were dashed against the rocks of bitter disappointment. My foe was no psychotic killer. More like a bunch of high school clowns.” Wednesday thinks as they remove their masks

“Wait, I preferred you with it on.” Wednesday said.

“How did you get down here?” One asks

“Rowan” (Y/n) chimes in. “She tracked the watermark to the Poe statue. Then I solved the riddle.”

“Wait, there's a riddle?” One asks, “I thought we just snapped twice.”

“Wow, absolute Einstein here” (y/n) says with his burning sarcasm.

“The Nightshades are an elite social club.

Emphasis on elite.” Bianca said.

“We have roof parties, campouts, the occasional midnight skinny-dip. And Yoko's an amateur mixologist. She makes a killer virgin mojito. It can get pretty wild.” One girl adds in.

“Wow. Do you guys even have a bedtime?” Wednesday said with her cold sarcasm

“Last I heard, the Nightshades had been disbanded.” (Y/n) said.

“Yeah, the group kind of lost its charter 30 years ago after some normie kid died.” Xavier says

“But we have a lot of wealthy alumni, so Weems looks the other way as long as nobody makes any waves.”

“Someone like Rowan?” Wednesday adds in.

“We booted that loser last semester. Question is, what are we gonna do with them? Only members are allowed in this library.” Bianca says, and Xavier comes up with an idea.

“I say we invite them to pledge. They’re Addams, both legacy.” He explains.

“After the crap they pulled in the Poe Cup, there's no way in hell.”

“Are you mad we beat you at your own game? Let me save you the trouble glow fish.” He stands up and reveals his undone bindings.

“I'm not interested in joining, and I’m sure my sister isn’t.”

“You're seriously turning us down?” One says.

“Yes Because your little social club is so inviting.” He walks to the door, but is stopped by Kent, the mermaid and the twin of Divina.

“If you think the little burns you had at the Cup were bad, I’ll fillet you alive, get out of my way.” (Y/n) says with such unnerving calmness, Kent awkwardly side stepped and (Y/n) turned to Wednesday.

“When you’re done toying with them, let me know.” He heads up the flight of stairs to leave his more than capable sister there.

Minutes later he’s awaiting at the gate of the school, and his sister arrives.

“Good, you’re done playing with them, we can figure out our next move.” (Y/n) says.

“It seems the Nightshades were a dead end. They’re not capable of murdering Rowan, they’re barely capable of kidnapping two people.”

“Well your Standards are unnaturally high.” He says and nudges his sister, she stares at him and he walks back to his dorm, Wednesday watches her leave.

“There were so many threads to my investigation, I could weave a burial shroud. I still have no idea how Rowan mysteriously rose from the dead. Or why that monster is prowling the woods. But right now, nothing intrigues me more than this book. If I'm going to be responsible for Nevermore's demise, the question is, why am I sharing this apocalypse with a pilgrim?”

The next morning, The Students Are forced to stand at the Quad as Weems gives them the rundown for their Jobs.

“All students will report for their volunteer jobs at 10:00 a.m. sharp, followed by a community lunch at 1:00. As you know, this year Outreach Day culminates in a very special event, the dedication of a new memorial statue in the town square, which will also include performances by Nevermore students. As representatives of our school, I trust you will all put your best face forward.” She says, and hands out slips of paper for the Postions they’ll play. The Addams twins and Enid get theirs.

“Yes! I got Pilgrim World!” Enid says and (Y/n) checks it.

“Me too.” He ways, “I have natural people skills and a love of performing, so it's kind of the obvi choice.” Enid says, and grabs (Y/n)‘s arm.

“We can wear matching clothes!” Enid says smiling, which quickly changes the sullen demeanor of (Y/n). Who smiles.

“ I suppose I don’t hate that…” he says softly, and Enid turns to Wednesday.

“What'd you get?”

“Uriah's Heap, whatever that is.” She said, the students convey to Jericho to assist at Pilgrim world

“Ew. It's this weird, creepy antique store.” Enid says. “You'll love it though. I'm crossing my claws Ajax and I will be outreaching together.” Enid says, which (Y/n)‘s smile quickly Fades.

“Fantastic.” He walks off, and Weems has reached the front and begins.

“Welcome, welcome, Nevermore Academy.

Now, on behalf of the entire Jericho community, we are so, so pleased to have you all here today. Your generosity and hard work are truly... outreachous! Okay, everyone. We'll see you back here at one o'clock for lunch. Enjoy!” Weems says, (Y/n) adjusts his tie, ready to Woo Enid and make her forget about Ajax, as Enid prepares, Wednesday approaches her.

“Enid. Switch volunteer assignments.”

“What? No. Uriah's Heap is definitely not my bag.”

“It's an emergency. I need to check out Pilgrim World.”

“But Wednesday, this is not a fair trade. Why would I agree to spend the entire day at some dumpy emporium of crapola?”

“Because Ajax is volunteering there. Thing sneaked a peek at his assignment. But if you're not interested...” Wednesday begins to retract, but Enid grabs it.

“No! Oh my God, thank you. You're the best!” Enid skips away, (Y/n) stands with the ground, he turns left as he senses the approach of a woman, he turns with a smile to face enid but he unfortunately sees Wednesday.

“Wednesday? Where’s enid? You didn’t hurt you did you?”

“No, she swapped assignments with me.”

“Uh, why?” He asks, “She hates all things creepy.”

“Ajax is working at the Heap. That convinced her.” Wednesday says, (Y/n) was at a loss for words, the anger and disappointment was at a maximum as he lost his chance to possibly sweep Enid off her feet.

“I would have preferred Enid.” He says.

“I still cannot comprehend what you see in Her.”

“You don’t understand the Human emotional spectrum? I’m so shocked.” He says with sarcasm. “I’d like to spend time with women who aren’t related to me, unless you just don’t want Enid to snatch me away from you~”

“You are absurdly full of yourself, She’s After Ajax, do yourself a favor and accept cold reality. Wednesday says, He opens his mouth to say something less than appealing to his sister, but Eugene intervenes.

“Hey, Wednesday, want to grab a Hummers group photo?” He says, standing in the frame and the twins turn to face him, now both of them with the same stone face.

“Guess not.” Eugene says sheepishly as he walks away, suddenly, a woman approached, dressed as a Pilgrim.

“Good morrow, my young Nevermore kin. I am Mistress Arlene. A real OC. Original colonist. Now prithee, put your cell phones on vibrate and make haste, for you are about to travel back in time to the year of our Lord 1625, to Jericho's first pilgrim settlement. Yonder. Behold, the meeting house. Inside is a collection of artifacts related to Jericho's most beloved and pious founder, Joseph Crackstone. And beyond is our privy, America's first gender-neutral restroom.” She says, “Does anyone have a question about the bathrooms?” (Y/n) begins to raise his hand but Wednesday puts it back down.

“I haveth a query.” Wednesday said.

“Pray, be quick, child.”

“In the meeting house, which of Joseph Crackstone's artifacts are on display?”

“It is truly a treasure trove, including original farm tools, tableware, even the Crackstone family chamber pot.”

“Sounds fascinating. My Brother and I volunteer to work in there.”

“Pray, no. That exhibit is being renovated.

Today, thou will all be working at the beating heart of Pilgrim World. Ye olde fudgery!” She says, and shows the children a Fugde production shop

"Ye Olde Fudgery?" (Y/n) says, raising an eyebrow.

“More like ye olde diabetes in a box.” His sister retorts.

“Volunteers, prick up thine ears. Fudge is the lifeblood of our humble community. And samples equal sales, so grab a uniform and a box and make our forefathers proud.” She says. And adults hand out pieces of the uniforms.

“Are these for muzzling tourists?” Wednesday says.

“No, perhaps we can use them for muzzling troublesome siblings.” (Y/n) thinks.

The twins unfortunately put on a perfect facade of creepy pilgrims as (Y/n) stands there with a plate of Fudge, and Wednesday next to him.

“Enjoy your "authentic" pilgrim fudge made with cacao beans procured by the oppressed indigenous people of the Amazon. All proceeds go to uphold this pathetic whitewashing of American history.” She says in fluent German.

(In French) “Also, fudge wasn't invented for another 258 years. But please, continue to fuel this soulless corporation with your money so your children can still call Native Americans “Indians” (Y/n) says in perfect French.

“Any takers?” They say in Union, which creeps out the tourists and they leave. He calmly tosses the plate over his shoulder.

“This is getting ridiculous.” He says, Wednesday looks around and eyes the door she wishes to enter and walks off, (Y/n) follows, eventually the duo reach the door and Wednesday, using her oddly knowledgeable skill of breaking and entering unlocks the door and heads inside, he follows closely and the duo see the house, it was obviously turned into a museum, displaying multiple items

“My grandmother once told me secrets are like zombies... they never truly die. I'm not sure what secret Crackstone is hiding, but I have a strange feeling the answers to my future lie in the past. The Old Meeting House, 1625.”

“(Y/n), this is the girl from my vision. She's even holding the same book. That black one she had outside Crackstone's crypt.” Wednesday says, and (Y/n) turns to see a book on display.

“Codex Umbrarum. Book of Shadows." He opens it, and sees it all Empty. “Great. It's a fake.” He checks the back of it as his sister peers over his shoulder.

“I don't know who Etsy is, but I doubt she was an outcast settler.”

“No, she wasn’t.” He says, their investigation was suddenly sidelined as Arlene sees them.

“Just what the fudge are you two doing in here?” She says,

“Mistress Arlene.“ (y.n) said, “I proclaimed the meeting house is under repair.” She says “I know thoust heard me.”

“We don’t have firm for this. What happened to the original?” (Y/n) says, and Arlene frowns

“A child unknowing to respect thine elders, The original was stolen last month during the two o'clock witch trial.”

“It was probably the only authentic thing you have in here, yet you still charge $29.95 a ticket?” Wednesday says.

“Hold thy tongue. I'm reassigning you both.

To fudge-churning duty.”

“The original meeting house, the one in that painting, where is it?”

“How the hell should I know?

I only moved here from Scottsdale in April.” She says dropping the attitude.

“Fantastic, we’ll have to find it ourselves, I’ll ask around.” (Y/n) says.

“Ask who? No one living knows—“

“Exactly, no one living. Now If you’ll excuse me sister.” He says to Arlene, she frowns and walks off.

Back at Nevermore, (Y/n) sits cross legged in an Ally, with Wednesday watching guard, she turns to face him.

“Have you found the information yet?” She asks, his head suddenly jerks back and then forth and he opens his eyes, Gasping for air.

“I, think I do…” he says, and walks off into the forest, almost zombie like, they reach a burned down building, they search but, find nothing.

“Can you touch a leaf or something and get a vision?” (Y/n) asks.

“No, I can't just touch something. My visions seem to happen spontaneously.”

“Mother could help you learn some of the power”

“I would rather dye my hair pink than ask mother for advice.”

“Why am I not surprised, Maybe You’re Just afraid to see a vision.” He says sarcastically.

“Oh, you want me to prove it to you?” She says and grabs random items

“No. Nothing. Ah, I bet this will give us some real insight.” She says holding a Taco Bell bag..

“My visions are about as predictable as shark attacks.” Wednesday touched the gate and immediately stiffens up and convulses. (Y/n) rushes to her side and grabs her.

“Wednesday? Wednesday?!” He yells, she seems to be lost in a vision, and (Y/n) takes her away.

Minutes pass inside his room, he had a circle drawn around Wednesday, using his otherworldly skills to try and assist his sister, but her body suddenly awakens and she sits up.

“(Y/n), I saw her! The girl from my visions.

Her name is Goody Addams, and I believe she's our ancestor from 400 years ago.”

“Okay, but what does that have to do with Crackstone?

“I saw Joseph Crackstone in front of me as clearly as I'm seeing you now. He gathered all the outcasts in the meeting house and burned them alive.”

“I see, I see.. so that’s why they’re connected, Joseph killed Goody. Then Crackstone has to do with what’s going on… well, we have to think about this later, we have the concert to perform at? I assume Weems told you.

“Unfortunately so.”

“I thought nothing scared me, but that was before I stared into the eyes of Joseph Crackstone. I don't believe in heaven or hell. But I do believe in revenge. I usually serve it warm with a side of pain, but I've never faced an adversary cast in bronze.”

The Addams Twins are with other students in Jericho, preparing for the Band, but (Y/n)’s guitar skills were unmatched. But his sisters cello ability was unmatched. Weems approaches the podium.

“Thank you. It is my honor to celebrate our town's history and Jericho's noble forefather, Joseph Crackstone. Now, he believed that with a happy heart and an open ear, there was nothing our town couldn't achieve. So together as one, our community and our friends at Nevermore Academy, we've built a monument to celebrate his memory. Now, may the spirit of Joseph Crackstone be memorialized for eternity.” She says as they reveal the Statue of Crackstone, which begins to flow water.

The band begins playing of "Don't Stop" by Fleetwood Mac and the crowd cheers, but (Y/n) was still miffed by his loss of possibly wooing Enid.

The crowd cheers, but their cheers quickly turn to horror as an explosion bellows from the statue, it seems someone swapped the water with gasoline, and all it took was a single match. Screams, terror, fear rang though the center, but what truly took the eye of most was the hellish screeches of an electric guitar, and a cello, as the twins play a harrowing version of Vivaldi's "Winter" as the guitars strings bellow though the area, the cellos haunting dreary tone perfectly compliments the guitar, but Weems wasn’t enjoying it.

“That was a disaster. The mayor is furious!

I've lost count of the angry phone calls, emails, and people in the town, alumni and parents. They want answers and so do I.” Weems says with such vitriolic rage at the twins sitting at the office.

“I would lead the inquisition, but I left my thumbscrews and rack at home.” Wednesday said.

“Miss Addams... you're already on thin ice.

Wafer-thin ice.”

“I swear Principal, our hands are clean.”

“What happened to you Mister Addams? You weren’t like this until your sister darkens our dorms.” She says, which changes his mood, maybe he was going back to his old ways. Weems turns to Wednesday.

“I may not have hard evidence, but I see you.

You're a trouble magnet.”

“If trouble means standing up to lies, decades of discrimination, centuries of treating outcasts like second-class citizens or worse...”

“What are you talking about?”

“Jericho.” (Y/n) cuts Weems off

“Why does this town even have an Outreach Day? Don't you know its real history with outcasts? The actual story of Joseph Crackstone and his hatred for Us?”

“I do…To an extent.” Weems says.

“Then why be complicit in its cover up? Those who forget history are doomed to repeat it.” Wednesday chimes in.

“That's where you and I differ. Where you see doom, I see opportunity. Maybe this is a chance to rewrite the wrongs, to start a new chapter in the normie-outcast relations.”

“Nothing has changed since Crackstone. They still hate us. Only now they sugarcoat it with platitudes and smiles. If you're unwilling to fight for truth...”

“You don't think I want the truth? Of course I do. But the world isn't always black and white.

There are shades of gray.”

“Maybe for you. But it's either they write our story or we do, history isn’t written by those who are right, it’s by those who survive.” He says, weems Just sighs.

“You two are exhausting.”

“We know.”

“Goodnight, Minster and Miss Addams. But know, I don’t tire easily.” She says with the last foreboding warning, the twins leave the office and head back to their dorm. A but silent between each other, Wednesday was typing upon her typewriter, and Enid shows off a few outfits.

“Too much?”

“I feel like you just napalmed me, Enid.” Wednesday says.

“So glad I have my date with Ajax tonight.

Get my mind off that trainwreck of an afternoon. I literally think I have PTSD. I didn't even get to do my dance routine.” Enid says.

“What a tragedy— wait Date?” Wednesday asks.

“What kind of twisted psycho would want to sabotage such a life-affirming event?” Enid says, Wednesday ponders for a moment, and looks a bit saddened. He brother truly does care for her.

“…You're going to be late.”

“Wish me luck.” Enid says with a giggle and leaves. Meanwhile (Y/n) stands at the window, staring out into the moon, sighing solemnly as his eyes reflect the full moon.

“I don't believe in mandatory volunteer work, sugar-coated history, or happy endings, but most of all... I don't believe in coincidences. To paraphrase Agatha Christie, one coincidence is just a coincidence, two are a clue...and three are proof. Rowan's drawing of me and Crackstone happens sometime in the future. Goody Addams' warnings about Crackstone were in the past. And the monster is here in the present. Three coincidences that I know are connected. That monster could be anyone. The sheriff thinks they only exist behind the walls of this school. The truth is, there are monsters everywhere. And sometimes the monsters we least suspect are the most dangerous. They don't need teeth and claws to terrify. They hide in the shadows until no one is looking. And then they strike. But I'm looking now. And I won't stop until I find the truth.

[porschesbabydaddy]

Oh, to see the kittisawat siblings have a huge, blow out argument sparked by Chay skipping the admission interview. Porsche absolutely furious because that's what all of this was for, and what was the point of it all of Chay just decides No, and for... what? Because he's upset right now? Because a boy broke his heart? (And well, that's not particularly fair, but nothing about this is very fair, is it)

But I also want Chay biting back with every built up frustration and hurt. I want Chay asking Porsche why his opinion should matter, when Porsche decided something as basic as his actual presence in chays life didn't. That chay repeatedly tried to discuss other solutions to their problems, and listening to porsche got them here, where their safety hinges on the goodwill of porsches mafia boyfriend. (This also isn’t fair, but as stated, none of this is very fair)

I want nampheung brought into it, Porsche bringing up their moms instructions to him and how important it was, to her and to Porsche, that Chay has a future, has a way out from the debt and now the mafia. and Chay responding that nampheung is porsches mom. That Chay didn't grow up with a mom, or a dad. He had a brother. And then he had a note that meant, at best, Porsche was involved in something very dangerous, and at worst was an oblique suicide note.

I want both of them walking away from each other with nothing resolved only to go find a nice corner and cry because oh they definitely said some shit they shouldn't have. They definitely took turns aiming for each other's throats rather than making any attempt at a resolution.

Does any of this actually get to the root of why Chay skipped the interview? Maybe, maybe not.

(Kim is the most obvious factor for skipping the interview, but I like to think there's something else to it. A lack of autonomy haunts Chay throughout the series, so I just think it'd be neat if part of Chay skipping is because the thought of doing his little interview and then sitting around and waiting for weeks or months for a handful of strangers to decide his future is unbearable. Something a little fun about Chay having been consistently deprived of autonomy in the name of his future so that when he finally snaps it causes him to grasp at any autonomy he can get Now, even if it'll cause problems in the future. Chay who has spent years forcing himself into optimism despite not quite believing it losing any faith in the choices of the adults around him, and in any chance of a good outcome. Why bother trying at this point.)

God, sorry this is 600 years long, I just think arguments where both participants are coming in with an attitude of "are you fucking kidding me" go so hard. And that Chay skipping that interview is such a good culmination of what happens to him through the series

Oh my god, I’m so sorry somehow I just saw this right now but this is fucking GOLD. Come back, come off anon and let’s CHAT bc I’m obsessed with this.

[neon-kazoo]

Searching

She stepped carefully across the gravel that filled the lot behind the abandoned building. Her eyes flicked from side to side, searching between the broken cars and machinery that littered the surrounding area, searching for any sign of him. She had scoured the entire town for any account of a sighting, any tip as to where the villain may have been. This location had been her first lead— a sighting reported by a gentleman in ragged clothes who had since migrated to the other end of town. She moved as quietly as possible, on the very off chance that someone was around this part of town at this time of day. It was the evening, about six o’clock, rush hour was over and the working class had already returned to their homes. This part of town was mainly abandoned anyway, the only intact buildings around had weathered for-lease signs and most businesses had long since moved on. She desperately hoped to find something, anything here that could aid in her mission. The man she searched for had so far proven himself to be a ghost— not a trace left or seen anywhere.

That wasn’t going to stop her though.

She peeked into an old truck bed, and her eyes zeroed in on a piece of clothing that had been discarded in the corner. It was the most out-of-place article that she had encountered so far. Temporarily, poorly-contained optimism clouded her senses as she reached for the dark blue fabric. Too late she heard the crunch of rocks underneath the heel of a boot. Too late she tried to spin around, only for her body to be slammed into the tailgate of the old red truck, her outstretched arm now twisted painfully behind her back. Before she could finish the groan that escaped her lips when her stomach collided with the rusted metal, a second hand reached and grabbed the large knife she had sheathed at her hip. She attempted to crane her neck back unsuccessfully as her concealed weapons were one by one removed from her person by a skilled hand that worked quicker than she could process. Adrenaline rushed through her veins as she attempted to thrash and kick back at her assailant. Her free arm tried desperately to claw or reach for any remaining knives. Unfortunately, the figure behind her held strong and worked fast, their now-free hand tangling itself into her hair and pushing her head down, erasing any chance of catching a glimpse of its owner. Her mind raced now that her protections had disappeared and she was clearly outmatched in strength. However, her rapid thoughts froze immediately after a voice spoke behind her.

“Looking for someone?”

She couldn’t speak. She could barely breathe. She knew better than to get excited at a stupid piece of cloth. She had training and yet she had managed to be bested in a matter of seconds.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. It wasn’t supposed to go this way.

Her thoughts came to a screeching halt once again as the figure pressed up against her back and warm breath met her ear.

“Cause I don’t appreciate people sniffing around in my business.”

No.

There’s no way this was him. This was just supposed to be a lead. She was not prepared to actually encounter anyone yet, let alone him. This was supposed to take months maybe even years…

And yet she had found him.

No. He had found her.

The hand in her hair yanked back before releasing and returning to pull her other hand behind her back, attaching her wrists together with the zip of a plastic tie. Before she could think of using the opportunity to twist around and use her legs to her advantage—however stupid that may have been now that she was unarmed and her opponent was now definitely not—she was manhandled back by her wrists and forced onto her knees by a swift kick to the back of her legs. Gravel dug into her skin through her pants and she gritted her teeth.

A sudden anger surged within her. She had just let this happen. Why didn’t she fight harder? Why didn’t she know someone was behind her? She should have scouted the place out faster, been more prepared for a fight. Truth was she was too stunned to do anything. She was unprepared and all of her opportunities were lost.

She took in her new situation. Weaponless, on her knees in unfamiliar territory with an unknown assailant.

“That was way too easy for someone who’s shown as much tenacity as you. You just couldn’t let it go, could you? You knew you’d find nothing and yet you continued to look. I’m sure you were warned, so why? Why search for a ghost whose notoriety means only certain death for you?”

She stayed silent, her eyes trained on the ground. She didn’t dare take her sights off the grey rocks. If it was really him, he couldn’t know who she was. Why she was here.

Not yet at least.

“The way I see it, you must have a damn good reason for coming here. And by here I don’t just mean this side of the tracks. So I think I’m gonna meet the person in front of me, whether you like it or not.”

Still, she didn’t provide a response. Even as she sensed him stepping closer.

“After all, you could have fought harder.”

And DAMN him. She knew she could have. She knew she should have…

But he was right. She had a damn good reason. Because he knew everything.

Everything she needed to know.

She fought the urge to slam her head into his at his whisper in the close proximity. He seemed to have sensed this by the twitch of her neck in his direction.

“Trait number one: smart. That move would definitely not have earned you any points. I believe I sense a bit of feistiness in you too. I like it.”

The hand returned to her hair and soon her face met the ground, her nose crunching with the gravel as blood began to trickle down her face without her hands to break the fall.

“But you know what I don’t like? People who don’t listen when I speak. I said, ‘who are you?’”

The force on her head multiplied and she turned her neck so that her mouth could suck in much needed air. A knee pressed into her back, keeping her down.

“You technically never said that, and I am smarter than to answer that anyway,” she forced the words past her lips in a manner just short of a chuckle.

“Definitely feisty. Smart-ass may be more accurate.”

His grip lightened and she was pulled back upright by a strong hand clamped on her shoulder. In front of her, a view was revealed of the sun dipping below the trees across the lot, the sky turning a fiery orange at the horizon. Each object around the lot cast a long shadow in the evening light, each stretching out towards her like they wished to envelop her in their darkness.

She almost wished they could.

But she had finally found what she was looking for.

Now what?

“So Ms. Smart-and-feisty, to what do I owe the pleasure of being the object of your obsession?”

[thegeminisage]

[emerges from 2.25 resolutions panting and covered in blood] it's staaaar trek update time

tuesday we did ds9's "to the death" and, of course, voy's "resolutions." augh

to the death (ds9):

i completely forgot every single thing about this episode due to what came after. hold on a sec while i go skim the transcript

OH YEAH. jem'hadar gateway

i think the premise of this episode is a little faulty. "you have to help us put down these rebel jem'hadar or else they'll get you too" hmm are we sure? are they really just mindless feral beasts who want nothing more than to conquer or should we be thinking with our brains that they're sentient people who desire freedom from their masters? i guess we only use morals when it's convenient lol

also, i get SO TIRED of people calling worf a pussy. and conflating his morals or even having morals at all with BEING a pussy. he's obviously not a pussy and he has proven this in battle and out of battle about 1000000 times on screen by now. give him something else to do, PLEASE

that said, a few decent sisko scenes in this episode. he had to lay down the law a couple of times and also saved that one guy's life

i did also like learning a little more about the jem'hadar, especially re: their lifespans. i hope that one guy really does make honored elder <3

resolutions (voy):

this episode changed my brain chemistry. i have watched it multiple times a day since first viewing. absolutely my favorite voy ep yet. i've been putting off writing this update because i was afraid

firstly, it had a great b-plot. tuvok almost getting mutinied and by HARRY KIM who never gets anything to do? mwah. at first i was disappointed it didn't devolve into actual mutiny, but the more i think about it, the more sense it makes. tuvok isn't stupid, he can sense which way things are headed and he knows capitulation to loyalty, an admirable trait, is desirable over outright chaos. he is also trying to do what janeway wanted for her crew, and janeway herself would likely listen if everyone aboard wanted to do something, even if she had her reservations. that's part of what it means to be captain.

the a-plot..........

AUGH

the. i can't even put into words

he's been in love with her the whole time. like, this is canonically a confession of long-held feelings. that's not left up to interpretation, even if whether or not they fucked is (and they definitely fucked). it makes me want to rewatch so i can decide in my mind palace when exactly this happened for him. HER NEEDS COME FIRST. ANYTHING HE CAN DO TO LIGHTEN HER BURDEN

and she never asked for this kind of devotion. he just wanted to give it to her

that's the fun thing about chakotay. he's so contradictory. the deeper you go, the gentler he becomes. on his outside he's very tough and dangerous, he can and will hit his suboordinates, he will kill people, and then when you strip everything back and get him at his most bare he just wants to build things for his wife and find peace in making her happy

it's also so good for janeway too like...she struggles so hard with staying hopeful, but she's learned to white-knuckle hope so hard as a means of survival that when she's forced to let it go it devastates her. optimism not because she believes in good things but because she will MAKE good things happen and when she can't and they don't, and she doesn't have power or control or even the illusion of those things anymore, that's what gets her

chakotay is fine giving up power and control and living moment-to-moment, but janeway lives looking forward. and in that way they complement each other SO well

i love also that janeway worse so many dresses. it hints to her not being able to be as feminine as she might like to be on the job, because when she unwinds in the holodeck she's also wearing a dress and in this elaborate romance novel where she is in a very womanly role. i loooove that like she's still a woman she's just a professional first. so when she wears a dress it's a vulnerability thing, permission given to see her as human woman, just like when chakotay is gentle with people. because the last person he was gentle and loving to was seska who betrayed him utterly in every possible way. he doesn't let people in but AUGH HE BUILT HER A BATHTUB HE BUILT JANEWAY A BATHTUB VOYAGER WASN'T EVEN OUT OF CONTACT RANGE YET AND HE WAS ALREADY TRYING TO MAKE THINGS BETTER FOR HER GOD KILL ME

ANYWAY. ANYWAY. they're also both normally very serious, largely because of the burdens placed on them by life circumstances, so it was SOOO GOOD to see them gradually become more playful with each other

him holding her while her experiments fell apart. him holding her on the walk back during the storm. their hand touches. the way he touched her hair pre-massage. the hustling outside with the phaser when she called for him. the way he couldn't stop staring at her in the bath towel. it is so. IT IS SO. devotion. borderline worshipful. AUGHGHG

his love language is ACTS OF SERVICE like KILL ME

i can't believe they never touch on this romance ever again. ik he gets with seven eventually, and ik im gonna love her, and im also gonna be into janeway/seven, so why choose?? that said, it shouldn't be this way. it should be janeway chakotay. they are perfect. they shouldn't have had to breakup

anyway shoutout to the four pregnancy fics i've read so far. i can't believe i didn't think of it. chakotay meanwhile already like having pregnancy trauma because of seska. AUGH

lightening her BURDEN brought him PEACE

also lol the way he was like. when he said that bit. yeah this is an ancient legend and then he was just bsing her, he should do that more often. but also AUGH, BECAUSE. THAT MADE IT EASIER. TO SAY

FULL ON. CANON LOVE CONFESSION. AND THEN WE NEVBER MENTION IT AGAIN???????

i have to end this update now before i start screaming.

okay. tonight: ds9's "quickening" and voy's "basics part i" which will both be inerior to "resolutions" forever no matter what amen.

[roxykisser]

my twitter account got locked so tumblr gets my insanity full force. i’ve been thinking about dirkjake.

it’s mostly been vague spinning of concept ala food in the microwave BUT i’ve wanted to talk about them and colour association for a while now and what better time to do just that than this one?

dirk’s primary colour association is orange, specifically a sort of creamsicle shade. i find this to be one of if not the most interesting colour choices, as dirk’s chosen colour, at a surface level, seems to represent a concept that is near antithetical to himself. according to most search engines, it is associated with warmth, excitement, joy, the sun… all things that aren’t necessarily characteristics of his. there is the association with creativity, which most definitely fits, but other than that…?

it seems an ill fit choice, until you look at orange in how it’s used. it is an incredibly hard colour to match and counter, especially in fashion, and isn’t commonly used for that reason. it doesn’t carry the sweet calmness of yellow but also not the ferocity and unmitigated energy of red. it is commonly thought to produce a feeling of hunger. seems to make more sense, doesn’t it?

then we have his other primary association: pink. not sweet baby pink or millenial pink or bubblegum pink but something that i’d describe as almost magenta. pink is one of the primary colours in the cmyk colour profile (the stuff used in printers), and it’s associated with kindness and compassion, love, sometimes. while those aren’t traits we might assign to dirk at the beginning of his arc, as act 6 goes on we learn he has a uniquely large heart. pink is all the things he believes himself not to be, add the association with femininity and you get a solid metaphor for his coming into himself as a gay man.

then there’s jake. his primary colour is dark green, which also happens to be a primary in the rgb colour profile. this colour fit is an odd case. by popular lore it is heavily associated with nature, life, growth, inner balance, which might fit jake to a point, but generally assumes themes and traits better suited to other characters. funnily enough though, the negative traits associated with green fit him pretty universally, envy not so much, but jealousy is a large part of his arc, and he proves to be quite materialistic in his life as jake harley.

the colour green in practice proves to be interesting again, as it is kind of an everything colour. i can’t think of a scenario where a shade of green wouldn’t be downright inappropriate to use, and that just about sums up how i feel about jake english early in his arc. he tries so hard to stay away from conflict and keep his friends happy he becomes a sort of social chameleon, mirroring whoever it is he’s talking to, even if it doesn’t make him happy. jake doesn’t know who he is, at this point in life. he knows what he *wants* to be and what he’s *expected* to be but reaching inside himself yields no result. by being appropriate in every scenario you lose an amount of character that others with more specialised uses will always hold over you.

the light yellow of the hope aspect is a fun one. yellow is generally associated with happiness and optimism, traits that jake shows in equal measures, though how genuine they are at any given moment is hard to parse, unless you of course are dirk strider. it’s supposed to produce enthusiasm and confidence, things that we see once again in jake harley. on the flip side… yellow is heavily associated with cowardice. and it’s very true. jake is a coward, and it’s something he spends a good chunk of act 6 maybe not… coming to terms with but finding out about himself. not that there’s anything bad about being a coward, in the case of homestuck especially, he would have been stupid if he wasn’t scared. speaking of; another association: naïveté. something jake heavily projects into his image in order to absolve himself of the consequences of his actions. he’s a bit of an asshole in that way, but not maliciously so.

now, let’s look at their colours together. orange and green make brown, which is not a colour very common in these sorts of analysis, but it nontheless proves fitting for their relationship, at least pregame. it is the colour of stability, reliability, but also dullness and timidity. jake and dirk were clearly very comfortable with each other and knew each other well: enough that jake was able to tell hal apart from dirk based on speech patterns alone. but their relationship as it was wasn’t completely fulfilling for both of them, at least dirk seemed to want to take things further for a long time before the game but was unable to due to his own fears and partially jake’s immaturity.

yellow and pink on the other hand? orange, again. this time it seems fitting to look at orange’s negative associations: immaturity, impulsivity, impatience. dominance, in a negative sense. this i think mirrors jake and dirk’s time as boyfriends during the game, before their breakup following trickster mode. their inability to communicate became their downfall when forced to communicate face to face. they stopped balancing each other out and closed themselves off in an effort to keep up the charade of a functional relationship. considering their lack of communication even before the game started, this wasn’t a surprising outcome, but a sad one nontheless.

still, they beat the game. and now they are just orange and green again, albeit joint kings of all consorts (the epilogues don’t exist). people often forget but orange and brown are two shades of the same colour. and i believe given time and methods of communication suited to both of them they can build up to brown again. better, stronger this time.