#this is so unnecessarily long all I had to say was ‘thanks lovely anon’ but I have FEELINGS and THOUGHTS ughhhh

[ivyithink]

I just want to let you know that I am obsessed with the reverse AU where Claudia is the adult and loustat are the teens in the family. It's such an interesting idea and loustat look so cute in your art! Thank you for making it

Thank you so so much, I’ve very glad you enjoy both the idea and the sketches for it!!! I gotta admit I’m kinda obsessed with it too, I would LOOOOOVE to read some fics exploring this new, very different dynamic! And, like, it obviously changes the plot as drastically as everything else, but wouldn’t it be interesting to try and keep certain key moments unchanged somehow (but reversed), and then how would it end ultimately? The same horrible way for the boys that it ended for Claudia? THE ANGST POTENTIAL. But in a different fic I literally just want to see a much better functioning (because Claudia’s running things) (though it still would not be totally healthy…) vamp fam taking Paris by storm, stealing Armand’s theatre (would he still even have it, without Lestat in the picture??? see so much stuff to explore!) and enjoying life being two proud vamps + one still a bit on the fence about it all, but at least his family loves him and lets him read quietly in the back row.

Anyway, sorry for this essay, as you can clearly see, I’m also quite fond of this au, so 1. might draw for it again, nobody be surprised! 2. if you have fics with this idea — gimme gimme gimme those links, I’m very curious!!

[fatesundress]

⭑ made with love. draco malfoy x reader

summary. it's winter, you’re sick, and draco is extremely rational a terrible, doting mess about it.

tags. fluff! so much fluff! married couple, gn!reader, lots of banter, post-hogwarts with one fleeting mention of the war, draco's anxiety is whetted by a common cold, he basically treats the reader like they hung the moon in the sky and also have the power to yank it down at any given moment. he's very grumpy. but so so in love.

note. my sweet anons!! i tried on three separate occasions to write the requests in my inbox but sometimes i need to be in the depths of hell (ovulation week) to manage smut. i'm sorry. i've made some progress i swear! but the draco hyperfixation came out of NOWHERE and unfortunately i had to indulge in it. also thank you so much for 200! :’)

word count. 1.6k

You are deplorable.

With a fever temperature of 40° and explicit instructions to stay in bed, you’re discernibly not in bed when he makes it home from the apothecary, a jumbled mess of the blankets he’d swathed you in left in your place. Your slippers are absent. Your slippers — in two feet of snow. Your coat is gone too, at least; ridiculously thick and unnecessarily long, though now he’s thankful for it.

Draco paces. Then he sets the Pepperup Elixir over a flame at his desk to keep warm, pours two drops of Sleeping Draught into a mug for your tea, and paces again.

He should have insisted on binding rings for your wedding, he thinks. Something to trace you in emergencies. There’s little to do without them as you’ve evidently either taken the Floo or Apparated, and, in truth, he can’t remember the last time he’s been this nervous. In school, perhaps? During the war? You have him comparing his nerves over a bad cold to those he felt during war. The insanity of that is actually not lost on him, if that counts for anything.

But you are deplorable, and his. His almost as much as he is maddeningly, irremediably yours.

How he allowed an aliment like this to infect him goes against all evolutionary sense. It’s a fever of its own. Incurable despite knowing its cause, and probably festering worse than yours.

And then the fireplace hisses and out you stumble with soot on one cheek and frost on the other, the neck of your coat zipped up to swallow half of your face. In an arm shoved deep in your pocket, a bag swings from the puffy coat crease of your elbow, and Draco baulks. It’s a muggle grocery bag — translucent enough that he can see the square imprint of your favourite sleepy-time tea, a chocolate bar, cans of what he thinks are soup, and — a lemon? Yes. A big miserable lemon that you’ve deigned was worth almost killing yourself over.

Draco does not hear whatever excuses escape your chattering teeth as he plucks your hand from its pocket, puts the bag down, pulls off your coat while you slap at his hands and insist you can do it yourself, and only because he thinks you’d hex him to oblivion if he tried, leads you with a hand on your back to the bedroom rather than hauling you into his arms and carrying you.

“A lemon,” he says, and is aware by the severity of his tone he might as well be saying a gun, or a missile, or a milk crate of Living Death cartons. “You forayed into a snowstorm for a lemon. Do you think I’m incapable of reading a grocery list? I just Flooed —”

“I got more than a lemon,” you huff in a weak voice.

It is appalling that that’s what you take from his admonishment.

Your snow-soaked slippers are tossed aside as you tumble into bed. Draco bundles you in blankets and holds his wand out to take your vitals. You roll your eyes all the while, but once the cold wears off he’s sure you’ll be burning hotter than you were this morning.

He shakes his head. “Lemons are common stock in apothecaries, you know. The shavings are essential in Weedosoros antidotes.”

“Yes, but they’re always so dry.”

“And chocolate — they sell it at Téa’s across the street for the magizoologists. Did you know that?”

“Hmph. No Cadbury, though.”

“And I’ve already warmed the Pepperup and poured you Sleeping Draught, despite your urgency for this —” He pulls the box of tea from your grocery bag, impressed with an image of a little bear with a red nightcap, a steaming cuppa, and a plate of biscuits — “Inarguably superior muggle panacea —”

“I never claimed it was a panacea —”

“Of which we should have distributed to St. Mungo’s en masse. In fact, I should owl them now so they’re informed the Sleeping Draughts are ineffective by comparison —”

“You’re insufferable —”

“Imagine all the orphans without rest —”

“Actually ridiculous —”

“You’re ridiculous. And I hate this bear. Look at his hat. Bloody Gryffindor.”

“Do you know what the wizarding world is lacking? — If you’re concerned enough to make a donation, Mr Malfoy?”

You think it’s hilarious to call him that. He does well not to mention you are, by law, also a Malfoy, and his money is your money to donate as you please.

“What is that?”

“Soup,” you say. “Canned soup — canned with love.”

“We are lacking soup canned with love,” Draco repeats, just to be sure.

“Yes.”

“I’ll be sure to write the Minister.”

“Do.”

“Only if you stay in bed.”

“Hmmm… mmmm… well. Hm.”

“Incorrigible,” he mumbles, brushing the damp from your face before getting up to fix your tea. (He kisses your cheek for good measure, big sop that he is. You do well not to mention it.) “Don’t move or I’ll cast wards on the fireplace.”

“Oh! Cast wards on the doors, too. I might go for a walk.”

He glares at you from the archway. Your answering laugh is broken by a coughing fit, and you look reluctantly glum when he raises a told-you-so brow.

Draco mutters about how ridiculous you are through the kitchen and back, as he steeps your tea, heats your soup, unstoppers the Pepperup Elixir, pours it in an old shot glass from a trip to Italy (you have no graduated plastic cups lying around), squeezes the big stupid lemon in your tea, carries it all to your bed on a tray and realises, still muttering, that these are a lot of steps. But Draco balances the tray without an utterance of magic. It’s rather impressive. You should be sorely sorry.

You are, instead, asleep.

You’re splayed across the bed like something Baroque, limbs fascinatingly posed: half under the blankets and half stubbornly poking out despite his fervent tucking, head nuzzled into the pillow with a slight frown. If Draco were any better with a camera he’d take a picture. Instead he takes careful steps to your bedside, placing the tray on the nightstand and sitting as close as he can manage without disturbing the (once more, revolutionary) arrangement of your legs. It feels criminal to wake you. His fretful anger that you’d gone out in the cold is whittled to a humiliatingly thin and empty husk, and all that remains is mushy adoration. Damn you for that; you look ridiculous anyhow.

Draco kisses your cheek again. Your nose. Your forehead. He traces an invisible portrait of your face with his fingers, as if he’s ever drawn anything better than nasty stick figures on crumpled parchment in school. You, though, he thinks he knows well enough by memory to try.

You stir, not too far from consciousness that it’s a challenge to find it again, but far enough to be audibly vexed by his summons to the surface.

Draco means to berate you in that way he's so good at — chin pointed and scowl permanently etched — but you grumble with a sick, hoarse voice and he falters in a pathetic display. “You forgot your love-suffused muggle soup,” he whispers, one hand cupping your cheek.

“Ugh.”

“Heinous, I know. Sit up for me?”

“Magic word.”

There’s his scowl. “Alohomora.”

“Not that magic word.”

“Imperio.”

“Unforgivables, Draco Malfoy?”

“Hmm, Locomotor Wibbly?”

You sink further into the bed, pulling the uppermost blanket over your head inch by inch. 

“Please,” he says, with profound displeasure.

You sit up and smile.

Draco sighs and lays the legs of the tray out over your lap. You regard his service with sleepy content, one of your hands travelling to his face in what his heart surges to appreciate is an honest thanks after his several near-heart attacks, and then your gaze finds the medically expert Pepperup in an Italian shot glass and it falls.

You groan. “Draco…”

His name says, quite plainly, please don’t make me.

Draco has enough self-respect to at least deny you this. “Wards.”

That says, quite plainly, I was not joking about the fireplace.

You look as though you’re contemplating the severity of two horrors, but it passes fleetingly, with one curse under your breath and a sour expression as you down the shot of Pepperup like… a shot. Burning Ogden’s that scrunches your face up until you shake it away with a blagh noise. 

Come to think of it, Draco's choice of glass is much more appropriate than some medical cup.

“Better?”

You shudder. “I will be.”

“Good. Have your love soup and stupid lemons.”

And then, when he isn’t expecting it, your hot palm finds the place it left off; Draco’s healthily warm, sharp cheek, the soft fuzz of hair beside his ears before your fingers card through the longer strands and you hum like he’s your favourite thing to hold onto.

He melts, eyes fluttering shut. You’re sick, and wholeheartedly deplorable, but you’re safe, and it’ll be alright.

“Draco?”

“Mm.”

“The soup.”

He opens his eyes. “The soup?”

“You know it was canned with love.”

“I trust you wouldn’t have bought it otherwise.”

“And,” you say, thumb flush over his bottom lip as you smile a groggy, self-satisfied smile, “it was made with love, too, right?”

He rolls his eyes, and kisses you nonetheless. “You never cease to ask absurd questions.”

[n0tamused]

Hi! I saw that you requests were open and I had a brain rot about an idea, with platonic! Ratio with a student who acts like Bronya Zaychik. Feel free to ignore this if you don't feel like writing this! I love your work sm! Take care🗣🗣🗣

- 🧈 anon

A/N: My first emoji anon >:D Hello! Thank you so much for your request, I do hope I did it justice. I do have to say I did not play HI3 besides a little bit of the start, so I am not that well versed with Bronya's character there, but I did ask a friend to tell me about her, so I hope this is alright <3 Enjoy! You take care too!

Contents: PLATONIC! Dr Ratio x Reader, hcs, fluff?? Fight me

-Dr. Ratio is hard to get close to, both as a professor and an individual outside the Intelligentsia Guild. With that comes great impartiality when dealing with people, no one gets a better or a necessarily worse treatment by him, unless they’re really asking for it

-This does not mean that he is not keen on observation. Seldom few things can go by him without his notice, and that includes the little details about the students he teaches. The things they think escape the view of others

-It took some time, some odd few months before he really began to focus a bit more on you, all past observations accounting up to what he thinks now. His view definitely changed, positively so too.

-He is very appreciative of you, as a bright spark among the sea of dull minds, and he also began to look forward to your essays and exam papers. Although his rather harsh outward demeanor is yet to soften, it is clear he is taking steps to take a bit more care about you, taking steps to nurture your mind and to encourage its further growth

-Dr. Ratio really does want to spread knowledge far and wide, that is his life mission, and his way of teaching can be hard to catch on to, something he is aware of. So whenever he does see someone grasping his talks and being in tune with the material, he will do his best to not let that student stray from this path

-As a professor it is his duty and responsibility to be like that, but he takes that duty on tenfold

-During the days and classes which are spent in practical learning, Dr. Ratio would observe your way of going about the task, the way you look so…deadpan when being seemingly sarcastic with your peers, and how much you just cherish those few people in your closest circle, and how they cherish you in return- it is something that leaves him with an odd sense of pride in his chest.

-Having mentioned that, he finds it oddly peculiar and curious how you seem to refer to yourself as a third person too, and at times he does find it to be a pet peeve of his. In his mind it’s a cruel way to demean yourself like that, and at times when it seems as if you’re being rude to yourself, he will jump in to correct you - not only on the way you refer to yourself, but also the way you talk about yourself. He may be blunt, but he is not unnecessarily rude and there is care interwoven between his sharp words. Dr. Ratio does not take out rage on his students either, unless asked for, obviously - when did he ever mince his words or  actions with idiots? But you are human, so at least treat yourself as one.

-It is an odd feeling Dr. Ratio feels,  a sense of paternal protectiveness when it comes to you after a long while of teaching you and getting to know you through small talks here and there and through the answers you offer. 

-Should you encounter an issue, any issue, rest assured, Dr. Ratio does not mind repeating himself - after he let a small sassy remark fall from his lips about having to repeat himself. He shows you how he does it himself, before letting you take a go under his watchful eye. You may even catch a subtle praise or two slip from him

-He is well aware of the setbacks you can encounter, mainly with the issues of walking and going about. Dr. Ratio would try to accommodate the needs of his students, including you, as practically as he could. Thankfully, you won’t need to walk much at all during his classes. 

-Going back to the protectiveness he feels, he sort of has that demeanor which in a nutshell is just “I can yell at them but no one else can”. The other professors at the Guild can really strike his nerves when they are just rude and cruel to students, and aeons save the person that dares to dig their nasty teeth into either one of his students. They’re not gonna hear the end of it

-Say what you want about him, but one thing that is not true is that Dr. Ratio is emotionless, or that he lacks empathy. He was a student once too, and someone’s child. And now you’re his student, and while you may not be coddled in any way, you will be taken care of.

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[sodoshame]

please please PLEASE write something with regressed!phantom being seen by dew for the first time. maybe it’s during the time that dew is mean to phantom because he took aethers place? something like that

thanks shadow! always love ur fics

Hello sweet anon! Sorry this took so long, I’m working my way through requests :) I hope this is what you are after!

Requests are still open if anyone wants anything, I’ll get to it when I can :)

Honey.

Regressed!Phantom & Dewdrop.

A/N: SFW like all my agere fics of course! Dew is a little mean at first but he gets nicer I swear. I also wrote this really fast on my phone so I apologise in advance!

_

Dewdrop was the only one up this late; the rumbling of the tour bus wasn’t lulling him to sleep like it usually did, so he gave up on trying to sleep and got out of his bunk to go and sit on the couch in the main area of the bus.

The ghoul had been sitting on the couch for almost an hour now, watching the TV at a low volume so it didn’t disturb anyone else. Upon hearing the door to the bunk area click open, Dew looked over, trying to make out who the figure in the doorway was. He squinted slightly, trying to adjust his eyes to the dark. The figure stepped forwards, the light from the TV illuminating him.

“Phantom? What do you want?” Dewdrop asked, his tone unnecessarily harsh. The young ghoul squeaked out a response, too quiet to hear.

“Fuck’s sake, speak up would you!?” Dew snapped, clenching his jaw.

Phantom stepped forwards again, allowing Dew to see him properly. The quintessence ghoul had the spade of his tail in his mouth, gently suckling on it. His hair was sticking up all over the place and he had tear tracks on his cheeks. He’d been crying.

Dewdrop sighs irritably, not quite yet realising the state of the poor ghoul.

“Speak, would you? Or go bother someone else.” Dew mutters, turning his attention back to the TV. He hears a little whimper from Phantom; he groans and looks back at him.

“Satanas, what is wrong with you?!” Dew snaps again.

That does it. Phantom bursts into tears.

“I- I had b-bad dream. Swissy i-is sleeping.” Phantom manages to stutter out between his sobs. His vocabulary is limited and his voice is muffled around his tail that is still in his mouth.

Immediately, Dew’s eyes widen. He hadn’t realised the state that the younger ghoul was in; Phantom was regressed and Dew had just yelled at him, making him burst into tears. The older ghoul sighs, standing up from the couch.

“Fuck- I mean shit- damn it! Okay, alright… Phantom?” Dew mumbles as he slowly approaches Phantom. The young ghoul backs away slightly, still sobbing.

“Hey, come on. I’m not gonna hurt you, quint.” Dew says, his voice softening. He holds his arms out to Phantom, offering him to come closer.

As Phantom toddled over to Dew, the fire ghoul realised just how little Phantom was; he was wobbly on his feet, sucking on the spade of his tail like a pacifier. Even the way he’s crying. He was regressed much younger than Dew had seen any of the other ghouls be.

“Oh, you’re really little right now, aren’t you?” Dew coos softly. Once Phantom is close enough, Dewdrop wraps him in a gentle hug and softly rubs his back.

Phantom says nothing, but allows himself to be wrapped in Dew’s arms. His crying has calmed down a little, but there are still tears running down his cheeks and his breathing is shaky.

“I’m sorry, little quint. I didn’t mean to shout at you, I didn’t realise that you’re-”

Dewdrop pauses and sighs.

“I shouldn’t have shouted at you, end of.” He mumbles.

The fire ghoul leads Phantom to the couch, getting him to sit down. Dew wraps his arms around the young ghoul, pulling him to his chest.

Phantom lets out a little whimper as he cries, burying his face into Dew’s shoulder.

“Shh, shh, shh. Don’t cry, honey. You’re okay. You’re safe.” He brings his hand up to run his fingers through Phantom’s messy hair, keeping one arm wrapped around him. The young ghoul brings his tail back to his mouth, suckling on it once again; Dew frowns as he watches him.

“Hey, quint, don’t do that please. It’s not good for your your tail, you’ll end up hurting it.” Dew says softly, trying to pull the tail out of the quintessence ghouls mouth. Phantom whines and looks up at Dew with big watery eyes. Dewdrop sighs, then fumbles about in his back pocket.

“Can you try this for me? It’s Mountain’s, but I’m sure he won’t mind you borrowing it.” He says, pulling a pacifier from his pocket and offering it to the young ghoul.

Phantom lets his tail drop out of his mouth and cautiously leans his face closer to the pacifier. Dew gently pushes it against his lips, encouraging him to take it. Phantom does, taking it into his mouth hesitantly. After a few minutes, he looks up at the older ghoul, grinning around the pacifier.

“You like the paci, bug?” Dew questions, stroking his fingers through Phantom’s hair. Phantom nods, softly sucking on the pacifier as he looks up at Dew.

“Maybe we’ll have to get you your own, huh? That sounds like a good idea?”

Phantom nods excitedly and starts shuffling around on couch, eventually planting himself on Dew’s lap. He curls up against him and nuzzles his face into the fire ghoul’s chest. Dewdrop watches him with a raised eyebrow and lets out a slight chuckle as Phantom settles himself in his lap.

“Oh, just gettin’ comfy, hm?” Dew coos softly, wrapping his arms back around Phantom’s body.

The quintessence ghoul hums quietly in response, already closing his eyes. He mumbles something into Dew’s chest.

“T’ank you, Dewy.”

Dewdrop all but feels his heart melt; he places a soft kiss to the top of Phantom’s head and cradles him to his chest.

“You’re welcome, baby bug.” Dew mumbles into Phantom’s hair.

Maybe he should give the new quintessence ghoul more of a chance. Maybe he shouldn’t take his anger about Aether on Phantom.

From that night on, Dewdrop vowed to himself that he wouldn’t ever hurt the young ghoul again; nor would he let anyone else.

[the---hermit]

Hello, hope you are having a great day! What are some little trivia about Italian language? I don't know it, but I love learning about languages and cultures. I'd also love if you share random tidbits about Italian culture too. Thank you! Have a great time ahead!

Hello anon! This is a super broad question, so if tou have specific things you'd like to know let me know. Honestly I don't know what trivia could be interesting to you so here's a few random things that come to mind. Mostly about how history and literature have shaped our language:

When something is quite messy or confusionary you can say é successo un 48 litteraly meaning a 48 happened. This refers to the chain of revolutions that happened all throughout Europe in 1848

Similarly when you are referring to a very heavy defeat or a terrible failure you can use the term Caporetto, referring to the terrible defeat Italians had in ww1 in 1917

When you are referring to a very long or troubled and unnecessarily complicated joruney or chain of events you can say it was an Odyssey (ex. é stata un'Odissea), for obvious reasons. This is a favourite of mine I use it all of the time, mostly bc I use public transports a lot and they like to make my commutes feel like the Odyssey lol

Another mythological expression is piantare in asso which means to leave/ abandon someone or something unpredictably. This derives from the phrase piantare in Nasso, to leave (someone) in Naxos, and it's derived from the myth of Ariadne who was abandoned on the island of Naxos by Theseus

These are just a few random things that came to mind right away, again if you have more specific questions about Italian language and culture do let me know and I will try my best to answer!

By the way sorry if it took a while to get back to you, but things have been busy lately. I hope you'll have a lovely day anon!

[whimsicalcotton]

I'm gonna be honest I just love the way you write amberpricefield so much. I've never even played the game. I love them so much. If you're still taking requests please pick your favorite.

skdfjsdhk thank you anon 🥺🥺🥺

thank u also for the free reign! here is some incredibly stupid Everybody's (Actually) Fine AU nonsense for u <3

--- --- ---

50: Nicknames/Pet Names

There’s a list of things other than “Max,” that Rachel and Chloe call her that probably runs a mile long. 

Chloe likes to stretch her name into a wide variety of different shapes — some more ridiculous than others — and though there apparently exists some method to her madness no one else seems to know quite what it is. Mad Max, Maximilian, Maximum Turbo-Force Dork. Max could fill up a whole notebook with just those, let alone the pet-names. Chloe was once solely an ironic user of the word babe, so Max has been told, but she’s long since fallen into the trap of habit and now throws it around far more casually than Max can handle. 

Rachel has also grown fond of playing around with Max’s name, but she leans more towards the terms of endearment. Max has lost count of the amount of times she’s gone all red in the face after being called honey or love or darling. There was even that one time Rachel had the audacity to call her babygirl in the middle of the dorm hallways, which made her fluster so hard she’d immediately started babbling some lame excuse about the time before literally running all the way back to her room. 

All this is to say: Max has been thinking it’s time for some payback.

So with devious plots in mind from the moment she gets up — perhaps Rachel is starting to rub off on her a bit — Max makes it her day's mission to give the two of them a taste of their own medicine. 

She catches Rachel first. Lingering in the dorm halls, fittingly enough, knee deep in yet another unnecessarily tense looking party planning conversation with Victoria. Of course, Victoria is often the only one who suffers in a conversation with Rachel, so when she turns to see Max approaching her expression shifts easily into one of earnest excitement.

“Morning, Max,” she greets, apparently feeling generous in her sparing Max from having to get flustered in front of Victoria. Her mistake. 

Max takes a final little breath for courage, and goes for the metaphorical kill. “Good morning, sweetheart. Am I seeing you for lunch today?”

She tries not to smile so hard watching Rachel’s cheeks turn red.

“Y-Yeah,” Rachel answers, looking momentarily horrified by her stammering before straightening up. “Yeah, sure, lunch. I’m there. See you then.”

As Max is taking her leave, hardly capable of stopping herself from skipping the whole way, she overhears their chatter resume. 

“Bitch, didn’t you literally just tell me we were gonna go over this shit again at lunch?” Victoria snaps, incredulous. “Oh my god, you’re down bad. That was pathetic. Well played, Amber, truly.”

“Shut the hell up, Chase,” Rachel hisses back. “Tell anyone what just happened and you’ll be on your own supplying party booze for the rest of the year.”

Max gets Chloe later on, during the aforementioned lunch hangout that Rachel is apparently snubbing Victoria to be present for. 

She’s in the midst of chowing down on some of the sweets Max brought along, getting bread crumbs and icing sugar all over herself in the process. By the time she’s done, there are patches of powdery white and a hint of jelly still adorning her face. Rachel tries to hide a bout of snorting giggles upon looking at her.

“Jesus, you’d think we never feed you,” she says, still covering her mouth with one hand and handing Chloe a napkin with the other. 

“Yeah,” Max agrees, taking the napkin in Chloe’s stead and reaching up to wipe off her face. “You’re making such a mess of yourself, baby.”

Chloe’s eyes go wide as saucers as she squeaks out an astoundingly unsure, “I sure am.” She lets Max finish cleaning her off before seemingly coming to her senses and going even redder than Rachel had earlier. 

Speaking of, Rachel’s gone a little pink again herself. She looks over at Max with a gaze as hungry as it is curious. “Man, you’re out for blood today, aren’t you?” 

“Just having a bit of fun,” Max assures with a smile, watching on in unabashed satisfaction as Chloe devolves into a grumbling, mumbling mess hiding her face in her hands.

[lostinthewoodsomewhere]

Could you rank Jesse's outfits?

Hell yes I can!!!! Strap in lads, I've decided to put this under the cut because it got... long. Thank you so much for this question anon, I'm sorry if it's not quite what you wanted, it kind of ran away from me!!! But please know that I had so much fun doing this!! I'll take any excuse to talk about Control fashion!!!!

Okay, so:

The Director's suit

What can I say, just look at it, 10/10, no notes (well, lots of notes, but all about how much I love it!!!) Absolute perfection!!! The details on this outfit!!! The triangle on the back, the little triangle on the shoes, the cut outs on the jacket, the hair pin?????? It's truly everything to me, and I love it's story significance of visually showing Jesse embracing her role as Director, it's just the perfect example of everything the FBC and Oldest House is!!

(Also, fun fact, the first thing I thought when I saw it was 'oh, yeah, I understand why this is one of Julia Drawfee's favourite games now'...)

2. Asynchronous suit

Again, what can I say??? Look at it, this thing is just gorgeous!! Oh, the details!!! The structure is so beautiful, all the different shapes, the Brutalist nature of it all!! Also her cute little boots, I love them and the way they blend into the leggings!

Also, as someone who would desperately love for Jesse to get a skirt at some point, the half skirt and the way it moves in combat is everything to me, ahhh it looks so good!!!

3. Civilian outfit

I love her original outfit so much!!! It's so simple, yet it manages to be so iconic!!! I remember someone I was watching complain that her outfit wasn't great because it doesn't stand out enough, doesn't make her look like enough of an outsider, but personally I completely disagree! Control is such a high aesthetic game, and Jesse's civilian out so perfectly compliments the aesthetics of the Oldest House through its colour scheme and silhouette! Especially the back of the jacket, I absolutely adore the structure of it, it kind of has a similar energy as the Asynchronous Suit with the sharp Brutalist energy it has. But at the same time, by making it a leather jacket and jeans, it stands out so clearly from the (sometimes unnecessarily extra) formal shirts and trousers/skirts the others wear.

Anyway, love it! Also adore the bright blue of the original jacket!!!

4.Janitor's Assistant

Love it!! Love it so much!!! I adore the rolled up sleaves and trouser legs (whether this is for fashion or practicality, I do not know, but it is aesthetically pleasing none the less). Also, I love the detail that's she's wearing her original boots with this outfit, it feels like a cute visual cue of how comfortable she feels in this outfit/role. Also, the fact that Ahti gives it to us personally for a job well done just, perfection...

(also look at her little hammer and plyers, she deserves them!!!)

5. The Golden Suit

I do indeed enjoy the Golden Suit, I mean, it's a variation of my beloved Director's Suit, and has a lot of the same details I love that one for, but it just doesn't hit the same for me. I think I would prefer if it had a white shirt, or the shirt was a little darker as the greyish colour just isn't quite for me, (though it could be the darn lighting in the Oldest House). But still, I do indeed love it, I mean look at her, she still looks incredible even if its not quite my style!

6. Expedition Gear

You know what, I used to think I didn't like this outfit, but it grew on me as I was looking at it for this, and you know what, I love it now!! Like, to begin with it's one of the outfits that has the ponytail, and I absolutely adore this hairstyle!!! The way it moves in combat is gorgeous, and I enjoy the effort made to give her a high pony style that doesn't make her look like Beth Wilder!! But again, rolled up sleeves, super cute, the zipper/clasp detail on the side, it's all giving practical but fashionable, and I'm so hear for it!!

7. Extradimensional Suit

She's cool!! I mean, this outfit has the ponytail, so that's already a win! It's not my style, or the sort of thing I'm interested in, but I can appreciate it for what it is. The colour scheme is gorgeous, I love all the textures and shapes, particularly the piping around the neck (it reminds me of the mail room/pneumatics!). And as always, she looks incredible in it, so a solid outfit all round, just not one that makes me go feral, you know?

8. Office Assistant

I do very much love this outfit, I think she looks adorable, there's just not that much going on. I do love her little sensible heels, and the fact that the shirt is pinstripe rather than plain, it's cute!!! It's also just, it just is the FBC, it's such a recognisable look throughout the game, so I very much appreciate it!!

(Can you imagine if we got the pencil skirt version too????? Sigh, I can only dream...)

9. Candidate P7

Again, like, story wise this outfit is fascinating- (I've been thinking recently, like, at what point did Darling decide Dylan was a lost cause, and what did that mean for their pursuit of Jesse?? Is there a reason they just happened to have a prime candidate outfit ready for her, exactly in her size???)

Anyway, fashion wise there's not much to say, though I never realised you could run round the Oldest House in little socks, that's cool!! It also looks so cosy, but it has far too many lore implications for that, so unfortunately it does come last, but it's still cool!!

Bonus Round- Pre order exclusives

1.Tactical Response

You do not understand how unbelievably sad it makes me that this was an pre-order exclusive and I can not have it, because I love it so so much, it is gorgeous!!!!!!!! Look at her, she looks incredible!!!! The pony tail, the monochrome, it's like her civilian outfit but just elevated to the highest degree, I love it so muuuuuuuuuch!!!!!!!!!!

2. Astral Dive suit

I feel similarly about this outfit as I do the Extradimensional suit. Not quite my style, but I highly appreciate it, it's beautiful!! Also her hair, ahhhhhhh!!

3.Urban Response

It's cute!! It has a lot of the things I love about the Tactical Response, but the colour scheme just doesn't hit the same! The top is so cute though, I love it!!!!

And, uhhhhhhh, thats it :) If you made it to the end of this, thank you, I am incredibly impressed!!! Anyway, the clothes in Control are incredible, and this is only Jesse's outfits, there's so many other amazing clothes in this game!!! Like genuinely, the commitment to fashion in Control is incredibly important to me, and will always be one of the things I love most about this game!!!!

(I am literally always ready to talk about it, so never hesitate to message if you want to talk about it with someone!)

[my-castles-crumbling]

Hi Cas, it’s adoring anon (that’s a super cute nickname btw so thank youuu). I didn’t think i’d be writing you so soon, but something very very weird just happened so- yeah.

First of all, thank you. I didn’t mean to have you break rules or make you uncomfortable, so sorry if I did.

So I talked to him this morning and it was really nice. I told him that I don’t doubt that I’m straight, and that I know he’s a man, and that sex isn’t very important to me, but it doesn’t bother me what we do or don’t do, i’m happy to figure it out as we go and see what’s comfortable (don’t worry this ask isn’t abt sex). 

So i asked him whether sex was difficult for him, you know, if he hadn’t wanted to do anything cause he was afraid of me finding out he’s trans, or if he doesn’t like to do anything anyway. He told he was psyching himself up to tell me cause he was afraid i’d leave cause people have before (assholes, he’s amazing). 

Then he asked me something. On our third date I mentioned wanting kids. We’re at an age where it was clear neither of us wanted to beat around the bush, we’re looking long term and that needs to be compatible (we were also very romantic though don’t worry). He was a bit weird but said he did after I brought up the fact that i’d always preferred the idea of adopting kids over having kids myself.  

Anyway, he asked me if it was a problem, that he’s trans. I assumed he meant because he can’t get me pregnant. I told him it’s genuinely never appealed to me and I meant it when I said i’d rather adopt, if that was what he’d want too. And he agreed. 

It felt like a weird conversation, like I was already missing a hint. Looking back I think maybe he was asking if I saw this as a long term thing, would it be weird parenting with him since he’s trans? 

Obviously not, i’d always have wanted to teach my kids about all different types of people anyway. Or maybe he meant that adoption might be harder since he’s trans (I don’t know much about it to be honest- adoption). 

Either way, do you think I should bring it back up? To clarify. Or is it fine? It would just be to reassure him, I don’t know if i’d be bringing it back up unnecessarily. Like maybe he didn’t mean that and then it’ll seem like I’m having doubts. 

That’s not why i’m writing though. Something incredibly weird just happened, and I very much need some of your magic advice. 

I met his parents this afternoon, just left an hour or two ago actually. He usually visits them every sunday and now he’s come out to me, he told me he wanted me to meet them. 

When I talked to him, he’d mentioned that he likes to distance himself from the past before he transition, since he struggled a lot and faced a lot of challenges. He basically making sure I knew that he didn’t find it necessary to talk about his childhood much (he said I could talk about mine though cause he loves listening to me ❤️). Anyway, he said he told his mum when he was like 10 or something that he didn’t feel like a girl, I don’t know if that’s early or late tbh, but he said he mum supported him and bought him clothes he preferred and for most of secondary school he was- I don’t know- presenting as man? Transitioned to a man? A boy. I don’t know the terminology sorry.

Anyway, his mum had always been very accepting but his dad, his parents were divorced so he saw him on the weekends, strongly disapproved. 

When he was 17, his mother passed away from cancer. She left him a trust fund in her will, and the money for the top surgery he wanted. He had to move in with his dad, who wasn’t as much of a dick as he used to be, but still didn’t approve of him being trans. 

So he got top surgery at 18, and moved out. They’ve stayed connected over the years and when his dad got married, he went to wedding. His step mum is really really lovely and she basically whacked his dad over the head and told him to be nicer. The dads been pretty accepting ever since and he goes over like every weekend now (he says mainly to see his step mum and step sister though). 

ANYWAY. That’s the info you need to understand to know what the fuck just happened. Because I met said family. And the step mother and sister were lovely. But then I was left alone with his father when they were talking in the kitchen. Here’s what happened.

Dad, “So you do know he’s trans right?”

Me, “Yep.”

Dad, “I’ve met his past girlfriends. They’ve haven’t been good to him. Will you be?”

Me, “I hope to be, I really care about him.”

Dad, “Good. I’m going to tell you what you need to know to survive this relationship okay?”

Me, “Okay?”

Dad, “His name was ******”

Yep. That’s right. His dad told me his- I think it’s called a deadname. I don’t know much about trans people but I do know, especially after him telling me he likes newer people in his life to be distanced from his old one, that that was a bad thing to do.

Not only do I not need to know that. What the fuck has it got to do with anything? But also, that’s one of the things he clearly wouldn’t want me to know. 

Anyway, back to convo. By the way, i’m only not swearing at the dad right now cause I do want his family to like me.

Me, “Why did you tell me that?”

Dad, “They always want to know eventually. Curiosity would get the best of you and you’d ask and he’d get mad and this way I made it all easier.”

Me, “I appreciate you trying but I didn’t need to know that. I also would prefer if you refrained from telling me information about him, in that regard at least. He’ll tell me if he wants to and if not I don’t need to know.”

Dad, “Okay fine. Im just helping. You don’t even need to tell him you know it.”

Then they came back in from the kitchen. He drove me back to my place tonight, and spent the whole drive talking about how nice it was that his dad was nice to me and him and how much better of a person he’s become.

Should I tell him? And if I do, how? I think it’ll crush him. But I don’t feel comfortable keeping it a secret, that I know. Unless it would make it seem like I think it matters. Cause I don’t. Im happy to ignore what he told me cause I don’t care what his name used to be, but then is bringing it up just causing upset cause he’d rather just not talk about it? 

To be clear, I love this guy. I texted my friend and she asked if this deterred me? Cause it’s SO dramatic dating a trans guy? Please, the last boyfriend I brought home, my brother got drunk and kissed him, my dad almost sawed his thumb off and my mum poisoned him (he had an allergy). Family is drama. He’s still alive though, in case you’re wondering.

But I don’t know if this is like inserting myself into their family drama. I don’t know if this will cause drama. Or what type of drama. So… yeah. I’ll take some more advice please? ❤️

Hi again!

Yeah, I probably wouldn't bring it up again (the parenting thing) until it comes up naturally. But when it does, just reassure him that when/if the time comes, you do want kids with him, however works best for you guys.

As far as his parents. Fuck, that's horrible. Yeah, I would definitely tell him. I would start by saying something like, "I know you wanted to keep your younger years separate from your life now, and I totally respect that. But I wanted you to know that you dad shared some things with me. It doesn't change anything, but I wanted to make you aware. Do you want me to give you details, or no?"

That way you're not like "GUESS WHAT I KNOW YOUR DEADNAME." It gives him knowledge but also some space to consent and ask questions. But yeah, don't hide it. That could lead to feelings of betrayal.

You're doing great, hon <3 Let me know how it goes!

[nightmare-dreamt]

Hi there i am not sure if your matchups are open but i wanna shoot my shot lol feel free to delete and apologies if they are closed :)

Id like a matchup for aot, demon slayer and tokyo ghoul (but mostly DS so if it is easier for you to only write one, pls do DS)

I am a bisexual guy so idm any gender, but pls give me adult characters.

A lil about my personality: im an entp. I think if my friends were to describe me they'd say im helpful, talkative and open-minded. I'm the type of guy to have a lot of random accumulated knowledge that is also struggling to pick a career lol. I talk a lot and seek stimulation thru conversations. It is my favourite way of learning and i find that i remember things best when it is a fragment of a conversation i had. I show my love for other people thru acts of service and i feel most loved when people give me some quality time.

Likes: board games, long walks, long convos, jewellery, animals, museums, travelling, webtoons & manga (esp psychological or crime stuff), history

Dislikes: close-minded people, politics (it makes me clutch my forehead lmao), networking, unnecessarily rude ppl (esp to service staff)

Appearance: tall, dark hair, pale-ish, thick brows, always in dark loose clothing but with cool jewelry

Thanks a lot in advance if you end up doin this and if not, it is fine. have a good day :)

Matchup for Anon!

Levi Ackerman:

He would fall for someone who is helpful and caring, wanting someone who isn't afraid to show their soft side and be there for someone who is in need. He spends a lot of nights in his office doing paperwork and sometimes he'll fall asleep on acident, but his heart always skips a beat when seeing his favorite tea in front of him when he wakes up.

Acts of service, like mentioned before. He has a bad sleep schedule so someone who would help him and do simple tasks would make his heart swell. If you're making a mess, but then clean your mess up when you're done, he's in love. Bring him his tea or something to eat, he has hearteyes like he's making sure not to let you go.

This man has been dead for centuries and he has never found someone as talkative as you, but for some reason he doesn't mind, not at all. He enjoys listening to your conversations and putting his own thoughts into them, never feeling ashamed of them or disturbed. He would never tell you to stop talking and instead would tell you to keep going wanting to have a long conversationw with you. He also likes your voice and laugh, so it's just a win win.

During any moment in time, Muzan would drop everything for you and spend as much time that is needed. You miss him? Well guess what, he's at your door ready to spend the next week by your side. You want to go somewhere? Well guess who's coming with. This man is never leaving your side, unless you want him to then of course he will.

[marypsue]

I just realized that perhaps the samples we’ve seen the least are the Groundhog Day trio fic! Would you have samples to share now that it’s trucking towards completion? I’m excited to see it and I love a little tragedy and doomed hero’s that are also kind RadioShack employees!!

Anon I'm pinching your cheek like an overly affectionate aunt. Thank you for asking, and of course I have samples to share! Have a goof that's totally representative of the tone of the entire thing there is no angst and absolutely no horrific deaths in this fic no sir not a one

...

The man, it turns out, is named Murray Bauman. He’s a private investigator, in town looking into the events of last November. He has a laughably patchy version of things, compared to what Bob now knows really happened. And he’s apparently been harassing Jim Hopper to look into it, to no avail, for weeks.

He does not seem to have anything helpful to offer on the monster hunting front. Doesn’t even know there are monsters. Bob feels a little foolish for having wasted so much time on a dead end.

“Did you see the kid?” Murray asks, over his fourth cup of terrible diner coffee. He’s practically vibrating. “Or know somebody who did?”

“Sorry,” Bob says. “Can’t help you.”

Murray’s eyes narrow shrewdly behind his glasses. “That’s not a no.”

Bob looks the man in the eye, and makes an executive decision. “Not me. My – the woman I’m seeing now. And her – friend. They met a kid like that, last year.”

There’s a hungry gleam in Murray’s eye as he leans forward, resting his arms with both hands clasped against the sticky Formica of the tabletop. “Names?”

Bob shakes his head no. “But I’ll tell you this, that kid’s not dangerous. I don’t know who’s been telling you she’s a Russian spy, but they’re wrong.”

“You sound pretty sure of that, for somebody who never met the kid.”

Bob shrugs. “Those two have pretty good judgment.” He thinks about that for half a second, and adds, “Most of the time. About people, anyway. I trust them. And I don’t think they’d lie to me.” Except for the part where they both had, for almost a year. But state secrets don’t really count.

Murray studies his face for a long moment.

“She must be a real knockout,” he says, finally, with a smugly knowing look that Bob doesn’t like at all. “This woman you’re seeing.”

“I’ve known her since high school,” Bob says, not really liking the implication any more than the look. “She’s not a Russian spy, either.”

“Sure. Sure. And her friend wouldn’t happen to have a thick accent and an unusually close relationship with her, either. And she wouldn’t happen to be washing her hair, or having a headache, suspiciously often…?”

“I think this conversation’s over,” Bob says, pushing back his chair.

“Hey, Red Sonja there might not only be using you to provide cover,” Murray offers. He ruins it a second later by saying, “You might both be Russian spies. I don’t know you from Adam. Although, believe me, I will be doing my homework as soon as this conversation’s over.” His eyes narrow, again, and he adds, a little too deliberately to be as conversational as it’s clearly meant to sound, “And denial’s not a good look on you. At least you’re not so gone that you can’t tell she is a little too close with this…‘friend’.”

“He’s not a Russian spy, either,” Bob protests, feeling a little like he’s lost the thread of this conversation. “What does any of this have to do with last November?”

Unsurprisingly, Murray ignores that part completely. “ ‘He’, huh. Well well, what a surprise.” His triumphant grin is quickly tempered by suspicion. “But you’re still trusting them both? Enough to defend her. And parrot what they told you about this kid to me. So either they don’t exist and you just want some plausible deniability, which would be more likely if you didn’t make the story so unnecessarily convoluted and get so defensive about it, or you’re the poorest deluded S.O.B. this side of Siberia. Or…”

Bob stands, pushing his chair in under the table. This has been one colossal waste of time. “I really don’t see how my love life is relevant to your investigation. Or any of your business. Good day, Mr. Bauman.”

“Hey, on the off chance you’re actually not the patsy for some Mata Hari type,” Murray calls after Bob, as he starts to leave, “sounds to me like you and this woman both need to get over yourselves and ask this friend of hers for a threesome. If you haven’t already.”

Bob hurries out into the November chill with his face burning. He’s really not sure which is harder to handle: the mental image of Joyce as some Mata Hari type, or the whole idea of asking Jim for a threesome.

Jim, Bob decides, has had the right idea refusing to give Murray Bauman the time of day. If their paths ever cross again, Bob’s giving the man a wide, wide berth.

[superherotiger]

I’m back ;) I’m the anon who loved your x-men apocalypse animation especially. Really enjoyed your latest one as well! Gorgeous animation - loved the Jean Grey/Phoenix animation! The tiktok of Erik imagining/sitting down and taking to Peter is also a fave of mine - it did make me sad about the lack of Evan Peters - Michael Fassbender/ Magneto - Quicksilver scenes in the movies. Their dynamic could have been so great!

Yes, Dark Phoenix was a real mess. I do still absolutely adore the space scene though - it looks amazing and seeing the x-mens’ powers work together is just everything. Wish there was a lot more of that across basically all the film tbh. Loved seeing Quicksilver’s abilities in zero g! But despite how much I love that scene I can’t say that the movie is good. Honestly the frequent and unnecessarily large time skips generally bothers me - they robbed us of seeing the characters develop. I also can’t believe that Peter wouldn’t tell Erik for almost 10 years after the apocalypse incident.

I did try to brain storm a few ways of Erik finding out about Peter that could potentially be dramatically/visually interesting? One of my ideas was that for some reason, maybe due to Erik seeing red due to grief of losing Raven, Erik is wreaking absolute havoc and is trying to kill Jean. But the x-men have some sort of plan or just needs to freeze Erik so they can then stop Jean without killing her. And the scene would be Peter using his speed to try to get the helmet off Erik so that Charles could communicate with/or freeze Erik. And then because of Erik’s vast power he would be able to stop Peter in his tracks (similar to Jean in the film) and there would be a scene (similar to your animation) of him “grabbing” Peter in the air - throwing him up against the wall of the train(possibly?) to stop him, angry and pissed off and there would be this moment of Peter bracing himself genuinely worried he’s about to be killed - and Charles or someone else would panicked about what Erik might be about to do as he is blinded by anger - yell out the fact that Peter is his son. Perhaps for a second Erik would see Nina in place of Peter for a brief second as he recognises the familiar resemblance (as he is staring at another child of his in danger). And then of course he wouldn’t hurt him but instead freeze due to shock. What do you think? Too much? A scenario like this would kinda only work if the time skip is much shorter - maybe just a year. I quite like fics that address the fact that Peter is probably on some level afraid of Erik when he goes full Magneto. I like the scene when Peter claims to not fear him to his mother (which imho reveals that he in fact actually does). I think it adds an interesting layer to Peter’s feelings about telling him. I don’t think Erik would kill him - even if no one revealed their familial relationship - but that uncertainty in such a scene could kinda be dramatically interesting I think? I dunno, sorry if I’m rambling - I just quite like discussing alternative scenarios with other fans :) and wanted to hear your thoughts.

Ahh welcome back Anon!! Always a pleasure to talk X-Men with you! 💕

And aww thank you! I loved working on the Oleander animatic! The Phoenix was especially fun to animate, and of course the hug made all the hard work worth it haha. And awww yes! I love that edit too, it uses an audio from Gotham Knights where Batman is talking about Nightwing and how proud he is of him. As soon as I heard it I knew it would fit really well with a good timeline Dadneto, and I was definitely inspired by my fic The Hardest Part Is Leaving You which I had finished not long before making that edit!

Oh yeah, the effects in Dark Phoenix are actually pretty solid (at least most of the effects surrounding Jean and the Phoenix at least). Would have loved to see more of the X-Men as an actual team as well, but alas, the writers have robbed us of that yet again 😭 Guess that's what we're here for lol.

And OOOH Anon I love that idea! Definitely not too much, I think that's a great mix of angsty and intense but also heartfelt! And yes, a shorter timeskip between Apocalypse and Dark Phoenix is always appreciated haha. That's such a fair point about Peter being afraid of Erik when he's in 'Magneto' mode too. Usually I write them post reveal so I mostly play around with the concept of what their relationship is like after many years of bonding and trust has been built, which means Peter is rarely if ever scared for himself, but more likely scared of what Erik could do to others in the case Peter ever got hurt. Younger Peter would definitely struggle with that though I bet!

Thanks for sharing your ideas with me Anon, I love hearing them! If you ever turn them into a fic let me know, I'd love to read it! :D Have an awesome day!

-Superherotiger

[septembersghost]

satellite mv anon here! 🪐 sorry for not responding sooner! you might have already found out what’s happening but just incase i’ll catch you up…

so some of this is still speculation but i believe it all started when fans noticed that the youarehome website had been updated & that hasn’t happened since the mfasr mv dropped last year! this led everyone to start getting excited that something could be coming & then HSD tweeted a link to the website w the caption “🪐” !!!!! here’s the tweet ! https://twitter.com/hsdaily/status/1652122918980026376?s=20 so that ofc led everyone to believe whatever was coming had to do w satellite!! hsd has hinted to videos in the past & gotten it right so im hoping this time is the same✨😭

meanwhile while all that was happening a new photo of Harry dropped that people are claiming looks like he’s on the set of something? this is it if you wanna see for yourself: https://www.instagram.com/p/CrmcTMvo2-7/?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=

idk i’m still on the fence w this bit just bc it could just be him out and about & someone took a creeper photo but fans are saying the black curtains to the left make it seem like part of a set and that he’s like all by himself in this diner ?? who knows! also i think this one fan said that back in jan someone they knew told them they were working on a mv set for Harry but she didn’t believe them until now lol. again this whole “set” portion is really just speculation and could absolutely be nothing!

so yeah i believe that’s everything that happened last night in the span of like an hour lmao! but also you’re so right what did happen to the circus video haha that was so long ago & nothing came from it. maybe this is finally it & either the “set” is nothing or they’re filming more for it? who knows w harry! im excited for whatever’s coming tho w the website! hopefully it’s a satellite mv 🥹🪐 & hopefully we know soon enough!

also jess your tags lmao SAME!! she deserves her MOMENT but the gp does not deserve her after how unnecessarily cruel they’ve been the last year! but if it means we get satellite for the one year anniversary i’ll be so happy bc we genuinely never thought he’d make her a single!! all we can do is manifest and wait to see what happens 🤍🪐✨

(sorry for the super long ask! tried to summarize as best i could! have wonderful day jess!!)

hello love!!! i'm sorry i haven't been around the last couple of days, but this was such a wonderful catch-up message to read and i enjoy your investigative skills! i see we got it confirmed today, so it looks like all the hints were right - won't it be wild if it doesn't include the canary circus scenes at all? (i just need to know what those were for! 😂) stomper the robot is adorable, i also saw a cute joke about "HARR-E" 🤖💞 i'm excited!

she deserves her MOMENT but the gp does not deserve her after how unnecessarily cruel they’ve been the last year! but if it means we get satellite for the one year anniversary i’ll be so happy bc we genuinely never thought he’d make her a single! <- RIGHT, exactly the same on all of this, satellite is so special to *us* that it makes me protective, but i also think harry has such a fondness for it as well and knows it's beloved to fans and that she deserves a moment to shine. ✨ this feels a bit like how the tpwk mv was more a gift for fans too. my heart is warm!

thank you so much, you summarized perfectly, and i hope you've had a fantatic weekend and a bright week ahead! 💖

[flowerfacedowl]

Hey love it's alright, you did nothing wrong. Nothing at all. Therapists are like shoes, sometimes they fit, sometimes they don't. And you need a good fitting one to walk forward. Maybe your current therapist can recommend you somebody to try on for size? Because you deserve to get better!! You deserve this magic of things moving forward that happens when you really vibe with a therapist. Don't give up💕

I have a shitty ex too. And only after he's gone i really realized how abusive he was. But tbh i still miss him. And i probably will for a while. And my head will probably keep replaying all those little moments that were good and the sound of his voice for a little while longer. Because abusive or not he was the center of my universe and when he left it just pulled the rug from under my life. But u know what? We both deserve so much better. You deserve to be loved right. You deserve that things get better for you. Life is cruel sometimes, unfair and unnecessarily hard. But the good thing is that this is not the only thing it is. There are still so many happy things out there, people to love, happy memories to make, moments to experience, that are worth staying alive for. Because life can also be really really sweet when it wants to be. I believe in you that you'll make it through this rough patch. Things will get easier again, i promise 💕🌸

thank you so much for writing this out. i'm crying again because of your kindness. i understand being anon but i kind of wish you weren't so i could reply privately too. thank you for believing in me and saying i deserve to heal and to not give up in finding a better fit for a therapist. i just feel like a failure and like it's my fault because i'm too much/not enough, even though i've been trying so hard for over a year to do everything right. so now i'm just confused where i went wrong and i don't have clarity even when i try to ask. i'm scared to try therapy again because i don't know how i can be vulnerable all over again, and i'm scared to mess things up again and waste someone else's time.

thank you for what you wrote about my ex and i am so sorry that you had a shitty abusive ex, too. i walked away because of that, too, i was trying to do what i thought an empowered person would do, but i'm doubting myself and it still hurts even so many months later. i empathize so much with how you said the rug felt pulled up underneath you after your ex left, and i am so sorry you went through that. you didn't deserve to feel that way or go through that. you deserve so much better. thank you for saying i deserve that too.

i'm trying to hold onto those happy, meaningful moments. i think it's just that this feeling has felt endless for so long, and i've tried to work through it in therapy, and to be told i'm too stuck and self-sabotaging despite all of my attempts and 'doing the hard thing' feels like i'm even more hopeless. i'm trying to hope that there can be happy moments and experiences to come. thank you for believing in me and sending me a message because tonight has been rough and knowing you thought of me enough to send me kind encouragement means more than i can express. i hope you know you are deserving of those happy, peaceful, gentle, lovely moments over and over again.

[chuuyrr]

I love your scarlett baby series!! can I request gojo being too overprotective with teenage reader and she ending up screaming "I hate you" at him cause she feels overwhelmed by his behavior when gojo just worries for her and wants her safe :((( I want it really angsty pls

thank u and have a good day/night 💞

dad! gojo being too overprotective with scarlet witch! fushiguro! reader

jujutsu kaisen x reader

masterlist of the series

warning(s): angsty angst, screaming, use of strong language, dad! gojo being too overprotective and controlling, scarlet fushiguro snapping and breaking down, no comfort :)

i'm glad you're loving the series anon, thank you for requesting!! god this request hurts me so bad :( i don't myself good in writing angsts, but i hope this one is angsty enough. im not sure if i can say happy/enjoy reading, so um happy hurting ??? 👁👄👁

ever since you reached your adolescence years, gojo had become extra protective of you. inheriting your biological father's look and being the scarlet witch, you grew up to be a beauty and because of that, you were beginning to attract boys and even girls your age, and apart from that, your chaos magic had gotten much stronger compared to when you were a baby which inevitably activated gojo's 'overprotective dad mode' a bit too much.

gojo became paranoid, especially now that you were a teenager who frequently went out after school and came home late. he figured that the only way to protect and keep his baby safe was to control you. he didn't want to lose you. his fear of finding you hurt, kidnapped or worse got the best of him.

at first, it wasn't so bad. gojo just set you curfews and asked for regular text updates from you whenever you were away but it gradually got worse.

gojo started to restrict you from going out, began to pick you up at school consistently and bug you about who were talking to on your phone when he catches you smiling and laughing. you couldn't even talk and hang out with your friends anymore because of him.

as his controlling and overprotective behavior persisted, you were getting fed up until one day you had finally had enough and snapped. you couldn't take it anymore, you felt like a caged bird from all this rules and shit. everything was overwhelming, you couldn't even do anything more without being unnecessarily reprimanded.

"dad! all my friends are going out and i'm the only one who's not coming!" you tried to reason with gojo, "please, it'll just be a one night sleepover!"

"i already told you, [name]. a no is a no." gojo answered you sternly. "why can't you understand that?"

"no, it's you who can't understand!" you bit back.

"excuse me?" gojo pushed down his blindfold to look at you straight in the eye with his crystalline blue ones.

"you don't trust me, that's that! you don't love me either. because if you really did, you wouldn't be doing any of this."

tears pricked against your eyes and it didn't take long for you see red both literally and figuratively. "i'm sick and tired of you controlling me! you never let me do anything anymore!"

"watch your tone, young lady. i'm only doing this to protect you!" gojo raised his voice, slightly in disbelief at how you were raising your tone at him.

"protect me? i'm not a little kid anymore! i don't need you to protect me. i'm literally the scarlet witch and i know how to look after myself!" you stomped your foot, angrily scowling. "if anything, i'm stronger than you are!"

"well, to me you are still a little kid! especially with the way you're acting right now!" gojo was now yelling just as you are. "this isn't about who's stronger, [name]. we're talking about your safety. i just care about you!"

"you've done nothing but make me feel like a caged bird! i just want to be free for once! if anything, i don't feel safe at all anymore because of you! you don't care about me or my happiness either!"

breaking down, you slammed your trembling closed fists down to your side, an intense energy emerged from your body and trembled the entire house, causing all the furnitures and house trinkets to fall and get thrashed from your power.

"i hate you! i hate you! i hate you!" you screamed repeatedly, tears rolling down your face.

"[name]! stop right this instant!"

gojo was now alarmed by your immense power that was gradually increasing. everything was now floating, a thick tension hung in the air as you proceeded to wreak havoc. "you listen to me!"

"you listen to me, gojo satoru! i am not your daughter! you're not even my real father, so stop telling me what i should do! i've had enough of you controlling my life!"

with that, you fled the house and left everything in chaos—including your father who stood there frozen from shock upon hearing your very words.

gojo fucked up, he really fucked up. guilt painfully racked him straight in the stomach as he took in your spiteful words, recalling how you felt like a caged bird with all his controlling and overprotective behavior. he didn't mean to overwhelm you or make you feel like that all. all he wanted was to keep you safe, but his worries got the best of him and he went too far that he hurt you.

you were right about everything though, no matter how painful it was. gojo was not your father, he never was. you didn't even carry his name, you still carried your biological's father surname. if anything, he broke your father's promise. gojo had failed to care for you with love. this wasn't love. love wasn't supposed to hurt.

you ended up fleeing into a secluded area that was far from home. unable to supress the ache in your chest, you choked out whimpers and painful sobs as you curled up into a ball. your hands tightly grasped the fabric of your sleeves, your nails digging harshly that you could feel prick against your skin. everything in your vision was red and blurry from all the fresh hot tears that welled in your eyes.

you were stricken with so much pain that you didn't even realize that everything around you became in shambles from your chaos magic similarly with how you thrashed your home, no gojo's house—it wasn't your home anymore—before you left. somehow, you had forgotten that was linked with your emotions. all of it was just red, a painful red. eventually, you became numb. too numb to even inch a muscle and get up from where you ended up.

it took gojo a day to find where you were and when he did, you were still angry at him. you lashed out all your anger and frustrations at him, sending him projectiles of red psionics that tried to claw him to pieces—which would have worked if he didn't have his infinity on.

"[name].. listen to me.." gojo attempted to reason with you, his voice was softspoken unlike before.

"no! i hate you! i don't need you!" you cried out, your eyes glowing an immensely red color, venom seething through your teeth.

"please, come home." gojo tried once again.

shaking your head, you crumbled. you had finally stopped lashing red psionics at his way and sobbed, falling on your knees. "i hate you.. i don't want to go home.."

you hiccuped pitifully, sniffling all over again. "..i don't want to go back not with you."

with your walls weakened, gojo managed to wrap his arms around you and pull you into his embrace, breaking down his infinity to hold you. you thrashed for a while, struggling to push him away with your clammy hands. you were so vulnerable that your physical strength was rendered useless.

"i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry."

gojo repeated, continuing to hold you as you squirmed to get away from him. "kikufuku, please come home. i'm sorry, please."

"i hate you.." you muttered out weakly, feeling exhaustion catching up to you, shaking your head.

you rested your head against the crook of his shoulder and proceeded to cry. gojo rubbed shapes on your back as you broke down, remorse weighted on his shoulders when he heard your sniffles and felt your body hitch with each sob. what has he done?

"we'll fix this, please let me fix everything, baby." gojo pleaded. "i'm so sorry, i didn't mean to overwhelm you. it's my fault, all of it."

"you hurt me." you grasped the fabric of his clothes from his back, your nails grazing. "it hurts you know."

"i know, kikufuku. i'm so sorry. i'm sorry. i'll change, i'll make it up to you. just please come home, i can't lose you."

gojo cradled you his arms, coddling you in his embrace desperately. he really wanted to fix what he broke. he didn't mean to sabotage your father-daughter relationship with him. he didn't mean to hurt you like this.

"i just wanted to keep you safe, to protect you but i went too far."

you two stayed like that together, with you his arms. your heart was still conflicted and hurting, and at the same time, you thought about the spiteful words you spat out to him earlier. you didn't mean any of them, just like how gojo didn't mean to hurt you. looks like the two of you were just as even.

you closed your eyes shut as your sobbing slowly subsided. all you could ever wish right now was to be a little kid again, then maybe none of this would have happened. you wanted to go back to the way things used to be with your dad, but not right now. you couldn't find it your heart to forgive him just yet, you needed some time to think.

[the-devils-girl94]

Headcannons of The Demons reacting to Black!Fem!MC that’s dummy thicc plz 👉🏾👈🏾 She’s just so unnecessarily curvy that her figure can be seen in anything she wears. Demon King have mercy on their souls when she bends over to pick something up or when she’s wearing a sweater dress that shapes her figure and thigh highs that cups her thighs 🌚

((I don't know why but this made me happy to see. I feel like I had too much fun with this, like I wanted these guys to simp. Anyway I hope you enjoy this anon. Thank you for sending this ask.))

Lucifer:

This demon is a very respectful demon, meaning that while he notices you, he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable because he certainly finds you as attractive as earth is attracted to the sun. But even he can't deny that your voluptuous assets affect him a great deal. Of course, he controls himself, but it is hard when no matter what you wear, it conforms to your body really well!!! And even he loses composure when your body is so attractive in even the simplest tasks that you do, like bending over to pick up an item, crossing your leg over the other, or simply just trying to reach something off a shelf because damn baby got back! In other words, he feels he has to distract himself and find solace in his work. You're much too distracting for him, but he can never stay away for too long.

Mammon:

Way more blushy, tsundere, and overprotective. Since you made a pact with him first, he will not let another demon try to slither their way in. You're his human, damn it! Though he can't control his thoughts as you're so damn attractive! He's thought of ways to try to stifle your attractiveness, including buying you baggy clothes. But you make even those work! Your thiccness knows no bounds.

Leviathan:

As any professional otaku knows, thigh highs on dummy thicc girls are a luxury to enjoy! And you've just made his whole dreams come true! Not only that, but bright colored thigh highs really look good against a beautiful, dark skinned babe such as yourself. So a double whammy on him as he cannot contain himself against a lovely, black goddess. And when you cosplay, oh! His poor heart can't take it as your thicc assets work for the bustiest of anime girls!

Satan:

Hey, even this bookworm is sweating in his boots at your thiccness. If you're a person who knows no personal boundaries because their language of friendship (or love) is touch, Satan certainly won't be able to ignore you as easily as Lucifer could. But he probably doesn't want to. He likes to admire your physique but he doesn't want to be a creep about it. He tries not to stare at you too much by indulging himself in whatever book he has. (He makes it his mission to always carry a book when you're around.) But it's so hard when you're within his prescence and either standing so close to him or even bold enough to bug him while he's reading.

Asmodeus:

Now, of course, Asmodeus will always say that your beauty is no match to him, but your thiccness is ungodly! He can't deny that your thiccness hasn't thrown him for a loop, but he loves getting to dress and doll you up because everything just makes it pop on you. He's mindful trying to explore what colors really make your skin stand out because you're beautiful, darling, and he can't ever let you forget it.

Beelzebub:

He honestly wonders if all the food you eat somehow gets distributed to your thicc areas. He will absolutely believe you if you said it did. He thinks you were blessed by God because not were you a beautiful, black girl but he also can't take his eyes off your body. Blessed in the right places, how about a yes indeed? He can never focus on his workouts when you join him in the gym and gets jealous of other demons trying to get a peek at your workout routine.

Belphegor:

All he can think about is how your thighs could be a really great pillow for his sleepy head. Boobs too but mainly your thighs as they could save his tired life. He wonders if this is what everyone meant about thicc thighs save lives. He makes all the excuses in the world to try to get you to spend the night with him because he wants to see if it would be better to sleep with you and if he would be in an oasis of warmth and comfort.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Golden Thread

Prompt: since Janus is Deceit, what if it takes a physical toll on him when he only tells the truth and doesn't manipulate anyone for a period of time? could you please write a oneshot where Janus is in a position where he really needs to to tell the truth, but he can tell he's getting close to his truth limit? - anon

 Hey! I don't know if you're still taking requests for prompts (and I apologize if you aren't), but could you do Janus-centric fluffy hurt/comfort? And maybe a polyship? (If you want to, of course). - anon

Thanks for the prompts, babes! This was supposed to go up yesterday and I’m so sorry I forgot

Read on Ao3

Warnings: sympathetic remus & janus, other than that, it’s not that bad

Pairings: LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 5874

There is a thread that winds through Janus’s tongue.

 Thin, golden, finely spun with lies. It tastes sweet against the back of his teeth, the back of his throat. As he talks, it colors his words with a soft gleam, spinning and spinning into the air in front of him. It coils neatly around his throat as its spool and winks.

Most of the time its taste is enough to curl the corners of his mouth upwards into a smirk, watching it wind and weave its way around the others. Sometimes he thinks he can see other threads, clasping delicately around wrists, arms, knees, necks. Sometimes he can’t resist letting his threat tug them this way and that. Come on, what good is temptation if you never give in to it? He’s grown fond of the sweetness it leaves on his tongue, in his words. Saccharine as they may be, the haze they leave behind is more than enough to make up for it.

 Sometimes the sweetness is too much. He swears he can feel cavities forming in the back of his mouth. His teeth start to ache. And sometimes…sometimes he doesn’t care. It’s too much fun to keep tugging this way and that at the others, too entertaining to let the thread unspool and unspool from his throat, filling the air with its golden light. His smile sharpens and the tangle grows, because what’s the fun of it without a little risk of hurt?

 Other times he knows to back off. He adores the others, but no matter how fun they are to play with, he knows not to push too hard. At those times, he lets the sweetness spill off of his tongue, gently winds the thread back around his own throat. It always protests, the lack of sweetness making his tongue ache, the grip on his throat just a little too tight. But the looks on their faces…the begrudging gratitude, the sincere remark, or--god forbid—the poorly disguised hope…well.

 Sometimes he wonders whether or not it’d be worth it to keep the thread fully wound.

 Not that he ever would, it’s just a thought experiment.

 It’s not like he wonders what it would feel like to have Patton be able to listen to him easily, not make it a fight to get his point across. He doesn’t want to have an engaging conversation with Logan about philosophy, ethics, science, anything just to hear the brilliant man talk. He refuses to entertain the idea of being a proper source of comfort for Virgil. He wouldn’t enjoy snarking with Remus just for fun and not because he doesn’t know how to do anything else.

 And he…

 Well.

 The idea of being able to have an honest conversation with Roman makes him fill to the brim, top to toes, with hatred.

 He doesn’t have much of a choice.

 He can speak a few times with the thread coiled up, just enough when it really counts. He knows the others, he can’t just play with them all the time, he’ll get bored. And they’re not really cut out for it. And as much as he loves to see them squirm out of their comfort zones, it’s not good for Thomas. That’s his real priority.

 Janus pushes open the door to his room and sighs, taking his hat off and hanging it carefully up on its stand. He summons his cane and makes it the rest of the way to the desk, plopping himself into the chair and scrubbing his hand through his hair.

 “They’re so slow,” he mutters as his fingers go to the clasp around his throat, “how do they ever get anything done?”

 Well…they don’t. Not really.

 Don’t get him wrong, he loves being the one to tug and twist them into the right answer, but he doesn’t want to be there all the time. They do know what they’re doing, they’re all good at their jobs, so…trying to manage all of that is exhausting.

 The clasp at his throat falls away and he lifts his hand, craning his neck above his collar. There.

 He knows the thread isn’t real; nothing here is real. Nothing of him can ever be real. But he can still feel it sometimes. Like today.

 They’d been…talking. It wasn’t an overdue conversation, not in the slightest, and he’s had to be honest with them. Doesn’t mean he has to be honest with himself.

 And isn’t that just his saving grace?

 Janus winces as he feels the thread wind tighter and tighter around his tongue, pulling his gloves off to touch his throat, just to confirm that it’s not real. His fingers meet his scales and he sighs, missing the sweetness. It won’t be for long. This will blow over and tomorrow they’ll be back to everyone’s favorite regularly scheduled programming. He’ll make Patton blink in that adorably-confused way, Logan will be pinching the bridge of his nose trying to make everyone shut up and pay attention to Janus’s lies, Virgil will be hissing at him like a demented cat, Remus will be having the time of his life, and Roman won’t want anything to do with him.

 Janus breathes a sigh of relief as sweetness starts to coat his tongue again.

See? It’s already working.

 It doesn’t keep working, but you know.

 The effort was there.

 They’re talking again.

 The living room feels dry. Has it always been this dry? Disguising it as a roll of his eyes, Janus tilts his head toward the ceiling. Huh. He’s never noticed that light there before. Has it always been there? Probably.

 “Janus,” Patton calls, “can you—um—“

 Rolling his eyes again, he looks back down, crossing one leg over the other. He hides the lack of sweetness by pursing his lips.

 “Yes?”

 “Did you hear what I asked?”

 “Of course I did,” he drawls, idly flicking the tips of his gloves together.

 “…so what do you think?”

  Honestly.

 “He didn’t hear you,” Logan says quietly, and thank god the other brain cell has joined the chat.

 Patton frowns. “Then why—never mind.”

  Oh, Patton.

 “I asked if you knew how to help,” Patton says, his hands clutched in his lap, “with the barrier breaking down. It’s been kind of rough from our side so…”

 Right.

 There hadn’t been a barrier up until a few years ago. Something had formed in the Mindscape, an invisible wall. It wasn’t real, of course, but it made walking through the hallways unnecessarily difficult. One of them would try to walk from one side to the other and be suddenly seized with a compulsion to do anything but. Or they’d be accompanying another Side back to the room only to freeze in the middle of the corridor and have to mutter out apologies. It’s exhausting. Luckily they’d still been able to sink in and out to get from place to place, but it’s not like the barrier actually does anything.

 Janus sighs and uncrosses his legs. The thread leaps to the tip of his tongue, eager, poised.

 “I don’t know,” he says instead, feeling the sweetness recede in disappointment, “I don’t know enough about how it formed in the first place.”

 “It happened around the time of the series premiering,” Logan says thoughtfully, “perhaps it could be linked with the presentation of the Mindscape in the fanbase?”

 Virgil snorts. “Like any of that is accurate.”

 “You don’t know that, Virgil.”

 “Um, excuse me, which of us spends the most time on Tumblr?”

 “What does that have to do with anything?”

 “Where do you think most of the fanbase hangs out? ‘Cause it sure as hell ain’t Facebook.”

 “That’s a shame,” Patton sighs, “I miss it.”

 “You miss Facebook?”

 “You know it does still exist, right?”

 “Did Thomas ever even have Facebook?”

 “The color palettes were nice!”

 “You mean they were blue.”

 “Yeah, that’s what I said.”

 “…the point being I know a lot about what the fans do with the content we give them and most of that stuff is entirely made-up.”

 Logan raises an eyebrow. “As opposed to the made-up that the series is.”

 “Shut up, L.”

 “I’d rather not, actually.”

 Virgil swats Logan’s shoulder half-heartedly.

 Janus is smiling. Why is he smiling? He hasn’t lied enough for the sweetness to make him smile and it’s not like Remus has appeared with feet coming out of his head again. In fact, Remus is just…sitting next to Roman. Granted, he’s got his morning star in his lap dripping with god knows what, but there are no crazy shenanigans happening.

 He watches Logan reach out and tangle his fingers with Virgil’s as Patton starts talking again. He watches Virgil nudge Remus’s tape back over to him when he drops it halfway through rewrapping the grip on his morning star. He watches Roman cover a flinch that he’d never have noticed if he wasn’t paying attention and sees Remus take hold of Roman’s costume and grip it tight in his fist.

 The thread twitches angrily on his tongue as he tries to make sense of what’s happening.

 “Has anything happened,” Roman asks as Patton pauses, “on your side?”

 Virgil shrugs. “I haven’t noticed anything. But I normally sink straight to my room, so…”

 “Remus?”

 “You do realize that most of the thoughts that come into my head are the type that you guys would ignore anyway, right?”

 Roman rolls his eyes too, but it’s fond. Affectionate. Janus is not.

 “…Janus? What about you?”

 The thread begins to sew neat little words into his tongue, all prepared for him to say. Yes, he’s noticed something, he’s noticed that the others are so much less fun than they used to be. No, he hasn’t noticed anything, it’s not like he’s the observant one.

 Yes, he’s noticed that the barrier is fading and he hates it.

 No, he hasn’t noticed anything because he spends as little time with the others as possible.

 “I don’t know.”

 Patton nods. “That’s okay, just…maybe try keeping an eye out? See if anything changes?”

 “I will.”

 The thread takes longer to undo that night.

 Janus slumps onto his elbows and groans.

 When did he become addicted to the sweetness? When did it get so hard for him to realize when he’s the one telling the lies and when the thread is telling the lies? When did he stop caring about the words coming out of his mouth?

 The truth is, of course, that he didn’t.

 He started caring more about the others.

 The thread tightens in warning but Janus pushes it aside. He frowns, staring hard at the grooves in the desk. He started to care about them, not just as parts of Thomas’s personality that would help him do things, but as their own Sides. As them.

 He cares about how Logan’s eyes light up just a little when he starts talking about something. He cares about how warm Patton speaks when they’re all there. He cares about how bouncy Remus gets when they talk to him. He cares about when Virgil’s eyeshadow turns all purple and sparkly. He cares about how hard it’s become to genuinely make Roman smile.

 The thread groans.

 Janus curses.

 He can’t.

 “The others aren’t important,” he hisses at the mirror, “Thomas is the only important one.”

 The thread pauses.

 “I don’t care what they want,” he continues, feeling it slowly start to unwind, “it only matters that Thomas is safe. That Thomas knows what’s going on.”

 It starts to run back out along his tongue.

 “Their thoughts and feelings aren’t important.” His hands ball into fists. “I don’t care about them.”

 His tongue starts to taste sweet again.

 “I don’t care about them,” he repeats in a whisper, “they aren’t important to me.”

 The salt of the tears goes perfectly with the sweetness on his tongue.

————————————————

Something is wrong.

 Something is horribly, desperately wrong and the others are panicking.

 The barrier is gone. That’s not the bad thing. The bad thing is that along with it, everything in the Mindscape is rushing out of control.

 The walls won’t hold. The doors lock and unlock more often than they stay in place. Floors disappear out of nowhere and open up into yawning black pits. The doors to the Imagination buckle and groan under the onslaught of rushing beasts from the other side. Something is fading.

 They can’t sink out anymore. They need to know where everything is in order to do that. The place is a labyrinth. Only one entrance, one exit. There’s no way that they’ll know the right path unless they run it themselves.

 Janus knows something is broken the instant his eyes open. He can feel it. Cracks wind their way through the walls, through the floor, the ceiling shakes. He’s out of his room in an instant, running through the halls, somewhere, anywhere, are they alright? Where are they? Have they faded?

 “Virgil!”

 “Janus?” Virgil flies into him at breakneck speed, clutching his cape in both hands. “Are you—what’s happening? Where is everyone? Did something go wrong? What’s happening to Thomas?”

 The thread perks its end up eagerly but Janus swallows it down.

 “I don’t know what’s happening,” he says quickly, pulling Virgil closer, “and you’re the first one I’ve seen.”

 “I can’t find anyone,” Virgil pants, “I can’t—there’s no one—we’re going to fade.”

 “We won’t, I promise. We just have to find the others.”

 “Hello?” Another voice calls out from around the corner. “Hello, where the fuck is everyone? Who decided to break shit without me?”

 “Remus!”

 “That’s me, where the fuck—“ Remus barrels around the corner, almost knocking them over— “Virgil! Snake Face!”

 “Remus—“ Virgil wraps Remus in his arms, clutching him tightly. “Where were you? What’s going on?”

 “I was draining the viscera from a partially dissected sperm whale—“ of course he was— “but then everything started shaking.”

 “We can’t find the others.”

 “Then what the fuck are we waiting for?”

 They don’t even look back; Remus grabs Janus’s sleeve and Virgil still hasn’t let go of his cape, dragging him behind as they race through the halls. They can see where the barrier used to be, though with how much the place has shifted, it’s impossible to tell. Janus grits his teeth as they prepare themselves to smash through.

 Nothing happens.

 They just keep barreling down the corridor.

 “Patton! Logan! Roman!”

 “Where the fuck are you guys?”

 “Can you hear us?”

 “Re? Re, is that you?”

 “Ro!”

Remus reroutes them effortlessly, barreling through chunks of disappearing floor and leaping over cracks forming in the tiles. Virgil hangs onto Janus as they go. Janus can’t let go of either of them.

 “In here!”

 A blade flashes through a crumbling chunk of wall and a hand reaches out. Remus grabs it and vaults through the opening.

“Oh my goodness, Virgil!”

 “Pat—“

 Another hand helps to haul him through the crack. The hand he has in his cape pulls uncomfortably at Janus’s neck.

 “Where’s Janus? Did you guys see him?”

 “Yeah, he’s right here, Ja—“

 “Snake Face, get your butt in here.”

 “Don’t just stand there, help you idiots!”

 A sickening crack right above him makes him jerk his head up. His eyes widen as a massive chunk of ceiling starts to fall. Hands wrap around his arms, his clothes, even his waist and pull.

 “Janus?” He blinks through the dust to see Logan staring at him, concern written plainly all over his face. “Are you alright?”

 No, the thread sews, I am now trapped with the five people I abhor most in this world. I am the furthest from alright I could possibly be.

 “Are you all alright,” he asks instead, lifting his hand to fix Logan’s collar, “I’m not hurt.”

 “We’re fine,” Roman says, helping him to his feet, “we managed to get in here before the place really started coming down.”

 “What’s going on?”

 Patton’s shoulders slump at Virgil’s question. “We were hoping you would know.”

 Janus bites back a curse, turning to look at the opening. It’s blocked now, completely choked in dust. He glances around.

 “Where are we?”

 “Safe room,” Roman says, tapping the wall, “something Remy helped us come up with.”

 “Remy?”

 “He’s a bitch but he knows what he’s doing.”

 “Fair enough.” Janus grits his teeth. “So what do we know?”

 “Who was awake when it happened,” Logan asks, “Roman and I were not.”

 “I was also not awake,” Virgil mutters, “and I would really appreciate this not being how I wake up ever again.”

 “I agree.” Janus glances at Patton and Remus. “I was asleep too. Remus, you said you were awake?”

 “I was in the middle of an experiment!”

 Logan perks up. “An experiment?”

 “As much as I love watching you two be nerds together,” Roman breaks in, “can we do that later?”

 “Of course.”

 “Spoilsport,” Remus says fondly, “but it wasn’t me. I’ve done this experiment before, nothing I do could do…this.”

 All eyes turn to Patton.

 “…Padre?”

 Patton shakes his head. “I…I don’t know. I had just gotten up to get a glass of water when it shattered in my hand.”

 “It did what?”

 “Are you hurt?”

 “Let me see.”

 “No, no, guys I’m fine,” Patton says quickly, holding up his hands, “but then the whole house started to shake. I don’t—I don’t know what’s going on.”

 Janus’s heart sinks. He’s telling the truth.

 They’re stuck.

 “Oh, god,” Virgil mutters, his hands flying to his head, “oh god, oh my god, no one knows what’s going on.”

 “V,” Logan murmurs, crouching down and reaching to take his hands, “Virgil, look at me.”

 “We’re going to mess everything up—it’s going to be so bad—what’s happing to Thomas?”

 “Virgil, look at me, come now, it’s going to be alright—“

 “How can you promise that?” Virgil’s voice starts to rise. “Have you seen what’s happening?”

 “Easy, shadow-ling,” Roman murmurs too, his hand carding through Virgil’s hair, “just listen to Logan.”

 “You’re doing well,” Logan encourages, rubbing Virgil’s arms, “just stay here, with me, alright?”

 Janus watches Patton and Remus stand a little closer to the three of them, shielding them from the debris still raining down from outside. Something in his gut clenches.

 Then he notices the tremors are slowing as the other calm Virgil down.

 And it clenches more.

 “It’s us,” he mutters quietly, almost too quietly for the others to hear, “it’s us. We have to stick together.”

 The thread on his tongue twitches angrily. There’s almost no sweetness left in his mouth now.

 Patton looks over his shoulder. “What do you mean?”

 “Look—“ Janus points at a crack in the wall— “they’re moving slower now. The closer we are together the less this place falls apart.”

 Virgil’s next inhale is almost a sob.

 “I really do just ruin everything, don’t I?”

 “No,” Roman says firmly, wrapping his arms tightly around the shaking Side, “we’ve had this conversation, shadow-ling. You’re important to us. You’re not a burden. And this certainly isn’t your fault.”

 “We need you,” Patton echoes, reaching down to rest his hand on Virgil’s shoulder, “don’t go anywhere.”

 “Don’t make us chase you.” Remus bonks his head into Virgil’s. “Not fun.”

 Virgil still looks doubtful. Which, alright, isn’t his fault. Voices in the head, not to mention the general anxiety, it’s no surprise, not really. Janus clears his throat.

 “Virgil,” he says softly, crouching down as well, “Virgil, listen to me.”

 Purple eyes stare at him.

 “You haven’t lost us,” he promises, “you won’t lose us. You’re important, not just for Thomas, but for us too. We care about you. All of you.”

 “Fuck, J,” Virgil huffs, swiping at his face, “why’d you have to make me cry?”

 The tremors keep settling.

 Patton throws his arms around Virgil. “See? We care about you, kiddo. We love you.”

 Something else twitches in Janus’s throat as he hears Patton say that. Virgil must notice it too; he looks up and squints at Patton.

 “Have we ever told you that we care about you?”

  Bingo.

 Patton falters, his grip wavering. His smile wobbles. “W-well, no, not really, but that’s okay! I know you do.”

 Logan tilts his head. “But you enjoy hearing it said.”

 The smile slips even further. “…you don’t like saying it.”

 “That’s no excuse!” Roman reaches over Virgil to get to Patton. “If you want us to say it, we can say it!”

 Janus shifts his attention. “Patton?”

 “…yeah?”

 “No one takes care of us like you do,” he says softly, “and none of us care as openly as you do.”

 Patton’s eyes widen. “Janus—“

 “You try,” he continues, not to be interrupted, not now, “and that is perhaps the most admirable thing we could ask for.”

 “He made Pat cry too,” Virgil mutters, pulling the now-sobbing side in for a hug.

 “Happy tears,” Patton manages, “I—wow.”

 A crack in the wall disappears.

 “Is that what this is?” Logan looks around. “An…emotional problem?”

 “We’re fading, the whole Mindscape is,” Janus says around the thread, “if we—if we stay, then we can fix this.”

 “O-oh.”

 That tone of voice always leads somewhere good. Sure enough, as he looks around, he sees Logan adjust his glasses and take a step back.

 “And where are you going?”

 “I’m not sure I can help,” Logan says flatly. “You have the answer already.”

 “But we’re not done.”

 “And what do you expect I can lend to this problem?” He spreads his arms wide. “I’m no expert on emotions, nor am I useful in proving things that are already true.”

 “Wait, what the fuck are you talking about, L?” Virgil scrambles up. “What are we proving here?”

 “That you are important.” Logan frowns as Patton and Roman scramble up too. “What?”

 “You’re implying that you’re not important,” Remus growls, “and I’m pissed about it.”

 “But—“

 “No buts!” Roman points a stern finger at him. “Believing yourself to be unimportant is a falsehood!”

 “I never said I was unimportant,” Logan corrects, “I said I would not be helpful in this situation.”

 “Bullshit. You helped me calm down.”

 “So did Patton and Roman.”

 “You figured out that I like being told that you guys care about me!”

 “That was obvious.”

 “Logan,” Janus calls softly to get his attention, “Logan, if you believe that anyone knows us better than you, you are gravely mistaken.”

 Logan’s mouth drops open.

 “You claim not to know emotions,” he continues, stepping closer, “but you know us, perhaps better than we know ourselves at times. You are kind, you are wonderful, and if you ever stop teaching us things, I am sure we would never recover.”

 He slips Logan’s glasses back into position.

 “You are not just Logic,” he murmurs, “you’re Logan. Stay. Be Logan.”

 Logan swallows heavily.

 “I must ask,” he says hoarsely as a tear rolls down his cheek, “if you intend to make everyone cry today.”

 Janus chuckles. “No, I don’t, but it seems that it may be a side effect. I promise I’m not trying.”

 “You won’t make me cry,” Remus remarks casually, “not without trying. I don’t care.”

 Oh, Remus. Janus doesn’t bother to hide his smile at the indignant squawk from Virgil as Remus implies that he doesn’t care about the others.

 “I don’t need to try to make you cry,” he says, “I’ve never wanted that. I just want you to be listened to.”

 “…fuck you, Snakey.”

 Patton lunges forward as Remus sniffles.

 “Do we just like…not talk to each other, then?” Virgil wipes his nose. “Because I sure as hell don’t remember us getting this emotional about anything.”

 Then Janus realizes that his mouth tastes bitter.

 The thread has not been idle, he realizes in horror, not while he’s been spilling his guts to the others in an effort to hold them all together. It’s dragged itself over his tongue, scraping every last bit down his throat, winding tighter and tighter. His mouth tastes bitter. It’s not supposed to be bitter. It burns, scraping along the sides of his mouth until they smart. He swallows frantically. It’s not working. Nothing is working. It hurts. His tongue hurts. His throat hurts.

 The floor wobbles.

 He can’t catch his breath.

 His eyes land on Roman.

 No.

  No.

 No, no, no, he can’t stop now.

 Not here.

 Not with Roman.

 Roman just watches the others wrap their arms tightly around his brother still wiping snot from his nose. A soft smile curls at his mouth that never reaches his eyes. Behind him, massive cracks open up in the walls.

 No.

 He can’t let Roman fall.

 Not after everything.

 Roman notices he’s staring at him. He just raises an eyebrow.

 “Going to make me cry again,” he asks softly, “or are you all finished for the day?”

 The thread stabs words into his tongue until he can taste blood.

  Well, it’s not like it’s difficult to make you cry.

  If I had something that would work, I’d say it.

  Only if you were a Side worth worrying about.

 No.

 No, no, he won’t say that. He won’t.

 The thread tightens around his throat as a harsher warning. The bitterness on his tongue worsens.

 “It’s alright, Janus—“ no, it isn’t— “I know you don’t like me much anyway. Don’t force yourself.”

  At least you’re being considerate for once in your life.

  Took you this long to figure it out, hmm? No wonder you’re called the stupidest Side.

 Janus grits his teeth against the thread. It just keeps tightening. His mouth has never tasted sweet in his entire life.

 He needs to tell Roman how important he is. He needs to tell Roman that they all have to start paying attention to him. He needs Roman to know that he’s sorry, sorry he ever implied otherwise.

 All that comes out of his mouth instead is: “you need attention.”

 Roman blinks. “Well, yes, I’d say that’s true.”

 He has to tell Roman that Thomas needs him, needs him to be strong and healthy, to dream.

 What comes out instead is: “you spend so much time stuck in your head.”

 Roman frowns. “If that’s the best you can do, there’s no need to overexert yourself. I can make myself cry much easier than that.”

 Why won’t his tongue cooperate?

 The thread just tightens around him again. A warning. A threat. A promise.

 He can’t tell the truth.

 He can’t.

 He can’t.

 It doesn’t matter. Roman won’t know how important he is. He’ll think that Janus hates him and that’s fine.

 Janus struggles to breathe.

 “There are two Creativities,” he grits out, even if the ‘but only one Roman’ won’t follow.

 “Patton is the heart,” comes out next, separate from ‘but he needs you to love.’

 “We don’t need you,” hurts on the way out because it leaves behind ‘but we want you, we want you so badly.’

 The Mindscape is crumbling. Janus can’t speak. The others are going to fade. He can’t help Roman. He’s ruined everything.

 He’s forgotten what sweetness tastes like.

 Roman is frowning at him. He stands, striding across the broken floor, eyes flint chips. Janus closes his eyes and braces for the hit.

 Roman’s fingers hook into his collar and yank.

 “What the fuck is that?”

 “Why is it cutting into him?”

 “How long has that been there, this whole time?”

 “Janus—Janus can you breathe?”

 What?

 Janus opens his eyes in confusion. Roman’s still holding onto him but his eyes are fixed not on his face, but lower. Something shiny casts light onto Roman’s face.

 “Janus,” Roman asks softly, “what is this?”

 “What is what?”

 “This,” Roman says darkly, fingertips tracing across something, “around your neck.”

 No.

 No, it’s not real.

 It can’t be real.

 …can it?

 “It’s not a thread,” Janus spits out, his tongue smarting in the air, “and it doesn’t keep me from telling the truth.”

 Roman’s eyes widen in horror. He reaches forward and Janus keens as the pressure tightens.

 “Don’t stop,” he grits out, “it doesn’t hurt.”

 “The sky is green.”

 “What?”

 “The sky is green,” Roman repeats, still glaring hard at Janus’s neck, “the Fourth of July is in October.”

 The thread loosens.

 “Remus, get over here,” Roman barks. A second later, two more fingers slip under the thread. “Now lie.”

 “Um, ventricles are found in the liver.”

 “Blue is made of red and orange.”

 “The alphabet starts with the letter ‘m.’”

 Logan catches on next. “The sun goes around the earth,” he says, nudging Virgil.

 “Uh—“ he glances around— “Patton isn’t wearing glasses.”

 “Paris is in Canada.”

 “Books are printed on alligator skin.”

 “Water isn’t clear.”

 “Mark Zuckerberg isn’t the inventor of Facebook.”

 “Earmuffs go on your hands.”

 “Hamburgers are vegan.”

 Lies spin out of their mouths. Remus grits his teeth as he pulls at the thread. Patton looks around frantically. Janus still can’t breathe.

 The room is settling, slowly but surely, but there are still cracks snaking their way through the walls, the ceiling, the floor. Right under Janus.

 Roman looks directly at him.

 “I hate you.”

 The thread gives.

 The brothers yank, unspooling the thread from around Janus’s throat, throwing it at the walls. It freezes in mid-air, still glowing gold.

 The cracks weren’t cracks, they were threads.

 The golden thread melts seamlessly into the wall, knitting the place back together, stitch by stitch. The walls settle, glowing softly as the floor reconstitutes under them. The Mindscape breathes.

 Janus hasn’t noticed any of this. He’s too busy collapsing into Roman’s arms, sobbing his heart out.

 “Shh, shh, sweetheart,” Roman coos, “I’ve got you, you’re alright, you did it, come here…”

 “He’s gonna be cold,” he hears someone—probably Virgil?—say over his shoulder, “grab a blanket. Can we sink?”

 “Let me try.” A second later there’s another sigh of relief. “Yeah. We can. Let’s get him to the living room, I’ll get a fire going.”

 “In the fireplace, this time, Remus!”

 “Yeah, yeah!”

 “Come on, little snake,” Roman coaxes, lifting him up to a broad chest, “let’s get you warm.”

 He’s still sobbing breathlessly, draped uselessly over Roman. He feels another set of arms as they sink into the couch.

 “I’ve got him,” Patton says quietly, “hey, kiddo, can you hear me?”

 The next sob is slightly higher.

 “Shh, shh, it’s okay, kiddo, you don’t have to speak right now.” Patton rubs soothing circles into his back. “Just stay right here with me, right here, the others are just getting the nest set up.”

 N-nest?

 “Give him to me, I’ll help him down while you slide in.”

 “Make sure to get his head, he’s having trouble right now.”

 “I understand.”

 A warm hand cups the back of his neck, leaning his nose into the crook of a warm shoulder. Books, coffee, whiteboard pen…Logan.

 “You’re freezing,” Logan murmurs, concerned, “let’s get you warmed up…no hyperthermia today, hmm?”

 Janus almost groans in relief as his scales hit something thick and soft and warm. He’s still crying, isn’t he? Why?

 “Hey, Snakey,” Remus mumbles, his hand under Janus’s head, “you gotta roll over, you’re gonna crush yourself that way. Come on—for crying out loud, you bastards, how long does it take to undo a clasp?”

 “Got it.”

 He suppresses a whine as his cape flies away, only for it quickly be replaced by a warm, warm blanket. He blinks his eyes open, straining to see through the tears. He can only see blobs. What is happening?

 “Rest,” comes another voice, is that Roman? Isn’t Roman angry at him? He can’t stop the confused whine.

 “Shh, shh, easy, little snake,” Roman soothes, running his hand through his hair, “breathe, that horrible thing was choking you.”

 The horrible thread…is it…gone?

 “Relax, come on, shh…easy,” he says earnestly when Janus whines again, “don’t work yourself up.”

 “He’s gonna hurt himself if he keeps clawing at his throat like that.”

 He’s doing what now?

 Warm hands take each of his and…oh. Well, maybe he was.

 “That’s it,” Patton whispers, “easy…”

 “What…what’s going on?”

 “You did it,” Logan says softly, stroking his thumb along the back of Janus’s hand, “you figured it out.”

 “But—“ he swallows, still not used to the freedom in his throat— “I couldn’t do it.”

 “You weren’t supposed to do it on your own, Jan-Jan. We all had to do it, remember?”

 “That’s what you said, J.”

 “So we did,” Patton finishes, smiling at him, “and it worked.”

 “But—but I—“ Janus’s eyes flash up to catch Roman’s.

 Roman, who sat there and didn’t protest when Janus couldn’t say one nice thing about him.

 Roman, whom Janus has hurt so many times.

 Roman, who pried the thread away from Janus’s throat without blinking.

 Roman, who caught him, and is still here.

 “Maybe the next time we talk,” Roman says softly, “we can do it without that thread around your throat, hmm?”

 “I’m sorry.”

 “Shh, little snake,” he murmurs, gently stroking a tear away from Janus’s cheek, “I know. But not right now, okay? You’re still crying.”

 He is?

 Oh.

 “Close your eyes,” he encourages, his hand still cupping Janus’s face, “rest, we all need it.”

 “Did we—“ his tongue is heavy— “did we ever figure out what happened?”

 “I believe Thomas had something of an identity crisis,” Logan remarks, “but we can figure that out later. For now…we should all try and go back to sleep.”

 “Great. Pop Star, budge.”

 “Hey! Kiddo!”

 “Ah. Much better.”

 “Pocket Protector, stop pretending you don’t wanna cuddle and get down here.”

 “In a moment, Remus, I need to take my glasses off.”

 “Ro-Bro! Get over here.”

 “Re, pulling me over Janus is not going to work.”

 “L, are you coming?”

 “Must you all be so impatient?”

 “Yes, my dear darling nerd, now come here.”

 Logan rolls his eyes and lies down, still holding Janus’s hand. On his other side, Roman leans Janus’s head into his chest and hums softly.

 “There. Now we’re all together again.”

 “Shut the fuck up, Princey, I’m trying to sleep.”

 “Shut up yourself, then.”

 “Kiddos.”

 “Sorry, Pat.”

 Logan chuckles. Remus shifts on the edge of the blanket nest. Roman tilts Janus’s chin up.

 “Are you alright,” he whispers as the others drift off to sleep, “not hurt?”

 Janus shakes his head. “I…was it really a lie?”

 “Was what really a lie, little snake?”

 “…you said ‘I hate you.’”

 “Oh, that.” Roman chucks him lightly under the chin. “What does your mouth taste like?”

 …sweet.

 It’s sweet.

 Oh.

  Oh.

 Roman smiles. “Go to sleep, little snake.”

 The Sides fall asleep in the Mindscape, threads wearing them tightly together.

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