#...i just think maybe there is a better way to approach this where everybody can be seen and listened to

[batsplat]

oxley bom pod was talking about the friendly atmosphere in the paddock today and they brought up vale as someone who would make himself hate his opponents in order to beat them. they mentioned biaggi before saying vale didn’t need to make up a reason there lol, and the gibernau, stoner, lorenzo, marquez. thought it was interesting to hear them say that especially since oxley specifically had a particularly close working relationship with vale!

got around to listening to the podcast rather belatedly + had a chat about this general topic that helped me organise my thoughts on this a bit. I transcribed the most relevant comments - probably some small errors because of cross-talk and like... I'm a fast transcriptionist but can't be bothered to properly do it, here:

O: One is because racing is so fucking complicated now. [...] They've got so much to do, so much pressure - to have the negative energy of anger and hatred is actually - B: It's a waste. O: It's a bad thing, you're just wasting your energy. I mean it depends on the character, okay - B: So maybe Vale was the last who really needed to hate somebody to give him - and now even Vale invites Casey to his ranch to ride with him. But he really needed to - It was not difficult for him to hate, but he - Some riders he really looked for a reason to hate them even more, because then he could dig deeper in himself - because he was just a happy chap - in order to beat them. O: Max Biaggi. B: But it was easy to hate Max! That was not very difficult. Sete Gibernau, basically he needed to try - O: Casey Stoner. Sete Gibernau. Marc Marquez. B: He hated Vale probably before Vale hated Casey! But that's another podcast. O: Yeah, I think so. No, definitely, definitely, definitely. [...] Some people - they get fired up by hating other people, and that's fair enough.

so yeah. I mean, qualified agreement, I guess? they're definitely right about casey hating valentino before valentino hated casey lol. if valentino ever really hated casey at all. which is not necessarily a mainstream take, so it's nice to hear it!

I also agree with this general take about... y'know, the creeping professionalisation of the sport and how that affects how likely you're going to get fun drama. goes beyond just hours spent looking at data and also about... having a bit of a life, having time to actually form a personality. and as I've said before, it's the fans! clickbait news + social media featuring partisan fans, who aren't just going to read every statement but also react to every statement like it's life or death shit. pecco and jorge have gotten push back for some incredibly, deeply, ridiculously mild comments these last couple years. they HAVE to phrase everything they say as inoffensively as possible while still getting their points across, and even then they'll generally be jumped. like, forget valentino, how do you think casey would have fared in this current media environment? up against a fanbase as partisan as valentino's - or marc's nowadays? not well is the answer! I think to some extent you can get away with this stuff more depending on people's perceptions of you, so marc and increasingly pedro will generally be fine... but on the flip side, the pecco's, the casey's, the jorge x2's of this world... everything they say gets read in the worst possible light, but now everyone's just so much louder about it

but this ask was more about valentino than the current landscape, so I'll get back to him. I do think it is a bit of an issue if you frame it as a completely either-or issue - at the end of the day, most competitors will probably motivate themselves through their enemies at least a little. pecco definitely uses negative emotions to fire him up, people criticising him and the like. casey absolutely used them, often directed at valentino. all the comments from the haters to fire them up right, to show everyone how wrong they are. on a psychological level, there is not something *fundamentally* different between using your rivals or the fans or the press to motivate yourself - it's still the same underlying motivational process (and indeed the podcast references lawson's distaste for the press). casey signs off his first every grand prix win by saying how nice it was to beat a spanish rider sponsored by the circuit, like are we calling that pure love for the game? he and mostly martin and to a somewhat lesser degree pecco do share a tendency to... believe the world is out to get them, and use that to fire themselves up. idk if casey strictly needed to do that or if it was just ingrained at a young age and became a stable self-perpetuating way in which he viewed the world but also, it doesn't really matter, right. maybe in both valentino and casey there is a pure unpolluted soul who could have enjoyed winning just for the sake of winning, but in practise it's clearly more complicated than that. as has been recently discussed in quite some depth in this parish, late 2007!casey was getting sympathetic interview write-ups that described his mentality as informed by 'bitterness and rejection'. including bitterness at valentino, who at that point in time was not meaningfully reciprocating any of that stuff!

so I do have a bit of a bone to pick with this idea of 'the last guy'. valentino didn't 100% motivate himself by hating his enemies, the blokes after him didn't do so 0%. I think of the aliens casey is probably the most similar to him by this metric... some are definitely less inclined to do so. lorenzo's a bit of an odd case where at times it felt like he was better at making other guys hate him than necessarily hating them himself... complicated guy but I think he actually really did want to mostly fuel himself in a positive manner, except then for various reasons both external and internal he needed to also draw a bit more from. the darkness. marc is more likely than either valentino or casey to just fight to win for the sake of winning... then again you do have cute little incidents like misano 2019 where marc - off the back of two back-to-back last lap defeats - miraculously happened to find an extra bit of motivation through a spat in qualifying after duly harrying the yamaha's all weekend. again, it's a question of degree, right. marc is just inherently less restless than valentino and less inclined to think the world is out to get him than casey, which are all contributing factors

with valentino, I think I disagree a teensy bit in terms of framing more than I do in substance. first off, not to be a broken record on this, but obviously all of these feuds were very different, involving very different emotional landscapes. I don't think it's correct to say valentino needed an enemy to fire himself up, but he did always need something. some mission to dig his teeth into, some way of making the whole thing exciting. of making it fun! I'm not all that convinced of this happy-go-lucky characterisation of valentino - a lot of the time he had to go to an awful lot of effort to keep himself entertained, and when that didn't work he could get pretty miserable. he needed to keep himself stimulated, he needed to stop himself from feeling lonely, he needed to give himself a purpose to work towards. hatred did help him in a motivational sense, and he's talked in his autobiography about how anger has made him ride faster. it's useful... up to a point. it's just not a uniform thing across rivalries

my sense is that it comes down to two things. 1) he needs something to motivate himself and get excited, be it a rival or whatever. and 2) he needs some distance from his rivals. motivating yourself through a rival is not quite the same thing as motivating yourself through an enemy. for instance!! casey was only really his enemy once they were no longer on-track rivals - it was unrelated to actual competitive calculus, and was in some ways more about casey than it was about valentino. when valentino did that shit to casey at laguna 2008, he's not like... mad at casey. he doesn't hate him. he's gleeful at least in part because of how obviously pissed casey is, but he doesn't hate him. because he doesn't need to hate casey to want to beat him! casey is already so considerable a challenge that beating him is reward enough in itself - he's this super tricky puzzle for valentino to work away at... and when he comes up with the answer at laguna 2008, he's delighted. he doesn't really hate jorge in 2009 either - dislike, yes, hate, no. he's already plenty stimulated by the challenge of beating his feisty young teammate... he doesn't need anything else. he gets through 95% of the 2015 season with barely any animosity with his title rival - there, he would have seen it as distracting from his primary mission of winning his tenth in a way that was entirely disconnected from any particular rival. he also runs into the problem that it feels like any psychological warfare feels like it's getting aimed more at marc than jorge - but that's entirely accidental, he isn't TRYING to fuck with marc in the middle of the season. why would he!! and jorge refuses to be fucked with on the track because he's just never in the same postcode as valentino, and valentino isn't attempting to fuck with him off the track. he's barely even doing like,, mild mind games, like they're quite actively friendly the entire year

(I do sometimes think you can do a bit of displacement here where you don't necessarily need to hate the person you're actively fighting to get the job done - cf marc at misano 2019, also... tbh casey 2011-12 kinda had that vibe where he was getting all that energy out of his system in valentino's direction and could then keep things civil with his actual title rival. there's a LITTLE bit of that 2015 even pre phillip island but mostly valentino does have a more early 2008 'we move in silence' vibe or whatever that pecco tweet read. this is the restlessness thing, right - he kinda needs to fill his brain with SOMETHING)

which brings us to the second element: needing some distance. zero problem with biaggi, which is kinda the training wheels feud in that it takes a bit of a life of its own before valentino REALLY was intending it to. he's a kid (literal eighteen year old) who's kinda snarky about biaggi in the press and biaggi takes it EXTREMELY poorly and confronts him about it and it kind of spirals from there. with casey + jorge, valentino ensures that they never GET too close. I do think there is an element of... y'know, not wanting to be close friends with the guys who are your title rivals, because it's harder to beat people you care about and deprive them of the thing they want most in the world. which I actually think is pretty normal!! valentino's problem is that on a few occasions he has ended up in rivalries with blokes he was at some stage close in - and either he preemptively withdraws as with marc and... ? probably...? melandri...? - or the relationship deteriorates and then blows up as with sete and also marc. the 'preemptive withdrawing' bit does suggest a degree of self-awareness with regards to his own competitive process - and as has been previously argued in this parish, valentino's relationship with marc developing as it did was in large part due to his competitive situation 2010-14. the two of them falling out was probably always going to happen if they were competing, the two of them falling out that badly required valentino's stint in the competitive wilderness to let him lower his guard to such an extent

so that's the argument in broad strokes. yes, valentino can use enemies to motivate himself - he certainly enjoys having rivals, he enjoys fucking with them, he enjoys figuring them out and measuring himself against them and also a little bit of competitive edge. that doesn't mean he needs enemies per se, or certainly he wouldn't have seen some of his rivals in quite such extreme terms (casey in particular of course felt differently). he did need SOMETHING to motivate him... rivals, definitely - enemies, perhaps. and he also needed a bit of distance from those he was competing against. which post-sete he tended to preemptively enforce, except that one time when he didn't, and when it wasn't preemptively enforced it did have a tendency to blow up rather spectacularly. so in essence, you still end up at the same conclusion, right - valentino did get a lot out of having enemies, did motivate himself with them, did need to beat someone. but the working process is a bit different as I see it. sometimes making enemies is about emotional regulation, y'know. feuding as a healthy outlet for competitive tension. as it should be

[dollyichi]

IN-STORE EXCLUSIVE

katsuki bakugou x f ! reader ᯓ★ 1.7k words. fluff / both are pro-heroes / maybe a little ooc but idc / no established relationship, he likes you though / hints on mutual feelings / not proofread

you catch him buying your merch during a morning patrol.

katsuki’s currently getting ready for the day. it’s his day off and could’ve chosen stayed in as usual, but he had an agenda. he’s already thinking of it while he’s tying his shoes, how he could approach it the best he can. well, maybe a bit too seriously.

he thinks it’s stupid but he’s been wanting to visit this new merch store in the city that opened the other day. he missed the big opening, which was fine—better not to get ‘caught’ and bring any attention to him, especially not when midoriya’s the main guest for the opening promotions. he doesn’t want midoriya to run his mouth in front of everybody.

it’s still early morning, and he hopes not a lot of people were in the area, assuming most of them are busy or on the way to work, so their routes should be different from the one he’ll take. he even made sure to check who’s patrolling. it’s just todoroki today, so he didn’t mind. it’s a secluded area, having to pass an alley to enter the store’s street no one should be there anymore since most exclusives for the grand opening should be sold out.

with a huff, he locks the front door and makes his way to the shop. pushing down his cap further. kids were able to recognize him though, giving him a wave while their parents apologized. “i’m on a secret mission kid.” he says as a joke and they nod in enthusiasm, happy to see a hero at work. “pfft.” he laughs to himself when the kid salutes him and goes back to his mother.

once he gets to the store, he’s scanning the area, only a few people were inside. it’s pretty big, seeing how there were also other merch aside from the heroes section.

the staff greets him a good morning from the counter and he gives him a nod. he checks his face if he remembered to put his face mask on. he sighs in relief feeling the cloth on his mouth and goes to the heroes aisle—he looks like a creep the staff doing rounds almost wanted to kick him out.

“lots of me in here.” he mumbles to himself.

he thinks it’s crazy how high the prices were for a figurine of him (the manufacturers usually gives it to him for free). he looks around, cringing when he sees midoriya and todoroki’s section. “shit’s not even worth the damn thing.” he thinks, but then again, he’s a dumb hypocrite.

it’s already a pain to even get to the store. he could’ve ordered anything he wanted to online but this line of collectibles were in-store exclusive and it just happened to be in this store which was a relief. he really would’ve drove to a different city just for it—though, it was also dangerous if someone catches him. he could’ve asked anyone to buy for him too, even thought of todoroki to purchase for him but that man doesn’t have the same shame he would have if he gets seen. plus he didn’t like the idea of a dating rumor of you and todoroki if he’s seen with the merchandise.

he was only supposed to buy one figurine, but ends up buying a few more, pin buttons and one big plushie that he finds really cute of you. he chuckles to himself when it got that ‘same dumb smile’ you always have on your face—the one that causes his heart to skip a beat, even when he didn’t want it to.

this all started when midoriya found out about his little crush when katsuki got into an accident with a victim they saved. it was a big mission where several individuals in the area went missing, turns out a whole gang was using them for blackmail and ransom. every hero in the area, including you, were tracking every villain involved in this case.

a little girl in hostage activated her ‘truth quirk’ when she clung onto the blonde. midoriya was asking him what he’s thinking of—he meant what to do with the villains—instead, katsuki said, “i think y/n’s really pretty tonight.” and he slaps his mouth, he didn’t mean to say that.

apparently the kid’s quirk manages to bring out the deep inner thoughts of the person they used their ability on. “t-that’s n-nice kac- dynamight but i’m asking about the villain… hehe.”

the quirk lasted the whole night and he made sure to keep him mouth shut, having midoriya talk for him instead for their initial report. because when he answered another question from the green haired hero the only thing that ever left his mouth was about you. how he wished he was doing this mission with you instead, or about how many people you saved that night.

eventually midoriya gives him a TCG of you and while he wanted to act like he didn’t want it, it sent shivers down his spine thinking midoriya would have a photo of you, so he takes it (keeps it in his wallet too).

then he got even more invested when he saw collectors online, showing off their ‘rare y/n merchandise’ which got him seething too. he’s not gonna lose, not at all.

which brings him here.

he heads over to the counter with his head down. the staff notices the pink hue on the tips of his fingers and laughs (pissed katsuki real bad). “you like her too huh? i think she could definitely be a top 5 hero soon.” they say. katsuki doesn’t respond instead waits for his total and pays with his card. “fucking nerd shouldn’t talk about her at all.” he thinks. in fact, he thinks your ‘weird fans’ shouldn’t even breathe the same air as you. treating you like some idol, it’s fucking gross.

“have a great day sir!” he takes a breather when he gets out the store. a paper bag in one hand, and the plushie around his arm. he thinks he looks pathetic right now but it’s not like anyone would notice him if he gets home quick, right?

he walks fast but not too much to get him any unwanted attention. taking the same route home quietly and fast.

though he stops in his tracks before even exiting the alley, seeing todoroki waving to him. “you have y/n’s merch?”

katsuki takes off his mask, “mind your business half n’ half bastard.” and walks away flipping him off. it’s fine, it didn’t bother him too much if todoroki were to see anyway.

however, the icy-hot hero was just about to warn him what’s up ahead but it was too late, katsuki’s already gone.

he could’ve hit a perfect home run until he’s stopped on the sidewalk by someone he definitely didn’t want to see right now.

“katsuki?” he internally panics when he hears you. too in shock he looks up from the ground, flashing you his eyes. he blinks and immediately ignores you by walking away, tucking the plushie in his jacket. yet you follow him, already floating to his side with a curious smile. “just what is it with this area suddenly?” he’s mentally screaming right now.

you knew those pair of eyes anywhere no matter how much he tried to cover it. “you’re on patrol right now, huh?” he says with a low voice.

“yup with shou! did you see him? he went first before i did.” you chirp, “didn’t think i’d see you today with…” you look down to see a bag full of your own merch and your newest plushie’s head peeking out of his jacket, “me?”

katsuki’s face turns red. if it was even possible, smoke would be coming out of his ears since he’s been caught by the worst person—fate is really messing with him today. “i’m buying this for that dumb izuku!” he lies, hoping you’d buy it, but you could only giggle. “really? i don’t think you’d do that for him though?” katsuki curses under his breath.

“look kats i’m real flattered. could i take a picture of you like this?” you clap, floating around him.

“fuck off! don’t push your luck. besides, shouldn’t you be on fucking patrol?” he shakes his head and tries to loose you again, unfortunately for him, you’re quicker.

“mhm! you’re right.” you say, “but i only have a few minutes left before i switch shifts.” he’s not even looking at you. “besides i went extra early for today.” you take a quick glance at what’s inside the bag. “it’s a really good thing i did! real great!” you giggle. katsuki’s really flustered, hoping you’d just go away soon and you’d forget about this in an hour. to add more to his rapidly beating heart, you look so good in your hero costume. the fan in him wanted you to sign the toys he just got—well, as if he’d do that at all, he really planned to take this ‘secret’ to the grave (it’s okay to shoot your shot katsuki!)

he seemed lost in thought, and it was the perfect opportunity for you take your phone out and get a quick picture of him before you fly off. katsuki flinches when he hears the ‘click’ but you’re already so up high, laughing away and he’s screaming a string of curses at you.

he didn’t know who to blame, but he knew he fucked up even more when he gave you that stupid excuse. “what the fuck…” he says through his teeth, rubbing his temples with one hand as he walks back home.

katsuki never feels shame, but there’s always that stupid thing you do to him to feel things he’s never bothered to before—right now it’s embarrassment.

tomorrow was supposed to be his shift to patrol with you. he doesn’t even know how to face you after that. when he gets home he immediately sets it up and lays down on his couch.

after a few hours he gets a text from you. ‘i got one of yours after my shift!’ is what it read and it was a small chibi doll of him. you’re so adorable holding the mini version of him close to your face while you’re in your costume, he couldn’t help but save it.

he thinks, “wait, what does that mean?” does it mean you like him too? what’s even the point of you doing all that for his sake?

he then gets another message from you. a picture of him walking out the alley with a smile, clutching the plushie while todoroki’s looking from behind him. sometimes he really hates your flying abilities even when he thinks it’s the coolest.

“ha… you knew all this. well two can play that game.” as if he could even try to embarrass you after that.

oh whatever. he never loses, right?

do not copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost my works

note : i feel like i keep embarrassing reader in front of kats so it’s payback time :p i didn’t mean for this to be so long omg. MINORS AND AGLESS BLOGS DO NOT FOLLOW ME!

[nereidprinc3ss]

you’re my best friend

in which spencer reid has to teach your young son how to make friends nicely after a day at the park gone awry

fluff!! warnings/tags: fem!reader, husband!spencer yum, boy dad spencer enters the nereidprinc3ss cinematic universe!!!! yayyy!! but you still have a baby daughter as well, Spencer would 100% give his children old people names I'm sorry, gentle parenting Spencer my beloved a/n: I really miss spring its my favorite season so I found this draft that feels very springy and it makes me very happy also.. the name... like queen... also this is old so its probably not winning a pulitzer

The sun beats down just shy of hot on the sheath of fresh grass where you and Spencer are comforting your crying son—the ground beneath your blanket is a lush, verdant carpet, still cool with springtime rain but not wet. 

All of this pleasantry is lost on your son Oliver. He’s too focused on the scraped knee he sustained when he got pushed over on the wood chips. Marianne, your baby girl, is gurgling happily in her little bassinet next to you. Whoever said raising girls was harder had obviously never met the Reid siblings. Oliver is a drama queen—something you suspect he inherited from his father. 

“See? All better,” your husband is saying, wedding band glinting as gold as the curls that fall to his eyes as he smooths a bandaid over Oli’s wound. Seeing him like this never gets old.

Oli’s crying chokes to a confused halt. 

“It still hurts,” he complains. 

“I’m sorry, buddy. But you shouldn’t’ve pushed.”

“I wanted to be her f-friend,” Oli says, his sweet little bow lips (all Spencer) beginning to pout again. 

Your husband wipes Oliver’s already teary cheeks gently. “I know, but she didn’t know that. Not everybody likes to be pushed, even when you’re playing, because it’s kinda mean, isn’t it?”

“I was not being mean.”

“Do you push all your friends?”

“Sometimes,” Oliver says stormily. Spencer gives him a knowing look. 

“Are you sure you didn’t push her just because she’s a girl?”

Little shoulders raise and drop heavily. Guilty. 

“I know it’s sometimes hard to make friends with girls, but they generally don’t like being pushed. Not anymore than boys do. Maybe even less.”

“Then how do I make friends with them?”

Spencer considers this. 

“Well… how do you usually make friends?”

“I ask if they wanna play.”

“Sounds like you already know how to make friends with girls, then. That’s all you have to do.”

“How did you be friends with mommy?” Oli asks, bunching the blanket in his little hand. You smile to yourself.  

Spencer’s eyes flash up to you for only a second, his lips parted in what only you would recognize to be amusement. 

“I was super nice to her. Me and mommy are really good friends, right?”

Oliver nods dutifully. 

“Do you know why?”

A shake of his little curly head, this time.

“Because when you’re nice to someone, it usually makes them want to be your friend. Not always. But you have a much better chance that way. If I pushed mommy the first time we met, I don’t think we’d be here today.”

Your lips flatten to zip in a laugh. To Oliver, this is a very serious matter. To you, too. It’s important that he grows up to treat people well. 

“Why not?”

Spencer dodges the question smoothly. 

“Why don’t you try going to apologize to her? She might not want to talk to you, and that’s okay. But if you say you’re sorry, maybe you guys can play nicely together.”

This determines the already willful Oliver, who pushes up clumsily before running down the knoll on his short legs and approaching the swing set where his earlier assailant now plays alone. He stops far enough away that he can make a break for it if she gets a fixing to push him again. Smart boy. 

You and Spencer observe the interaction carefully, and while you can’t hear what’s being said, things seem to go well. Soon they’re making their way to the little kid’s playground in tandem. 

“Super nice, huh?”

“I really wanted to be your friend,” Spencer counters, scooting closer to Marianne’s bassinet. “Hi, angel,” he coos, demeanor instantly softening as he strokes her soft cheek. You can’t help smiling. The look in his eyes is truly something to behold. “God, I’m never gonna get over how much she looks like you.”

You preen and try to hide it. “You can’t possibly know that yet. Her skeletal structure is far from fully developed.” 

“Uh oh,” Spencer says to Marianne, offering her a quarter of a strawberry from a Tupperware. “Mommy is starting to sound like me. Is that scary, or what?”

Marianne cackles and burbles and takes the fruit with her little clutching fingers, only missing her mouth the first time she tries to eat it. 

“You’re so good at this,” you murmur thoughtlessly. The moment Oliver was born he’d been a natural. Earlier, even. You saw it in his eyes the second you tearfully told him you were pregnant. He’s a man of many gifts—and that extends to the way he parents. 

His gaze turns to you, still just as soft, but more knowing, on you. It’s comforting, to be known and seen and loved like that. 

“Couldn’t do it without you.”

“Corny,” you tease.

He shuffles on his knees to be closer to you. “Biologically factual.”

Your eyes flutter shut as he pulls you into him with an arm and presses a firm kiss to your head. 

“Have I told you how much I appreciate you recently?” He murmurs into the quiet dark against your temple, shielded from the spring sun. 

You’re melting in his hold, the way you always do. “Mhm.”

“Good. There’s nobody I’d rather be super nice to.”

You breathe him in—feel the rush of happy chemicals flood your brain.

“What if I pushed you?”

“You wouldn’t do that,” he asserts, pulling back and framing your face between his hands. 

“But if I did.”

He regards you with narrowed eyes. 

“Why? Am I in trouble?”

“Maybe.” But you say it too coyly. The corner of his mouth twitches. 

“I’d forgive you,” Spencer murmurs, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips. “But if you want to be my friend, you can just ask, lovely.”

One more quick peck, and he’s situating himself to lay his head in your lap once more. You slide his sunglasses on for him once he’s settled, and he catches your hand, kissing your knuckles. Your lips twist. 

“You make it so hard to want to push you. I need you to be mean.”

He laughs. 

“Too bad. I like being nice to you.”

[obsessedwrhys]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ BROKEN FRAGMENTS

ᯓ★ Kurt finds you hurting yourself. Graphic description of cuts and scars/gore (?), SH, comfort, can be read as platonically or intimately. Reader is fem!! (I do not condone to anything in this fic. I just wanted to provide comfort to those who need the love they deserve.)

۫ ꣑ৎ Please reach out to someone if you're going through a tough time. Do not suffer in silence. YOU deserve to feel safe just like many others. Warning, this may be triggering for some so PLS DONT FORCE YOURSELF TO READ IF ITS TOO MUCH

ᯓ★

How you found yourself starting this habit was like a haze. You don't remember it all that well, but the emotions, the overwhelming emotion of guilt and pain always made it feel like it was just yesterday.

You had your reasons to carry out such acts.

But you knew that those reasons weren't an excuse for this.

Deep down you knew it was bad... but if it's bad, why does it make you feel so much better?

Should you feel guilty for wanting to be better?

After all, you never really knew how to express yourself... it always felt like this was the only way for it.

You made your way through the corridors of the mansion. The others had went for a mission so it was just you left behind. Why you weren't chosen to go was unclear but you had a grudge on why.

You tried your hardest to ignore it but you can feel how everybody was beginning to worry about you.

Moments where they'd take short glances of you...

Asking you if you wanted to hangout more...

Even secret talks regarding your wellbeing...

You'd be an idiot if you chose to believe your change of behaviour wasn't taking its effects on the others. You just feel like you've lost the spark you used to have in you. But can they blame you when you no longer have the energy to fight?

You retreated to your room, sitting on your bed to stare at the ground for a good few seconds before letting out a sigh. You searched through your drawers, looking for the exact thing you needed to get your mind off of these thoughts.

You really wanna stop... but it's so hard to...

Your hand just itches each time...

Your mind was a race track where the thoughts won't stop until one finally crashes.

You pulled up the sleeve of your hoodie, collection of scars that went back to weeks ago. Maybe even months. You're not sure and you could care less about it.

One...

Two....

Three....

Four.........

You continued on, the sight of the blood made you feel alive again. It was like you've pulled the curtain aside to reveal what was behind it. Your flesh and blood. Your very proof of existence. To prove you were real and breathing.

However that moment of euphoria soon vanished... you stare, almost blankly at the cuts as the blood continued on dripping out.

Why do you never feel good enough?

When will the time come where this moment will just be a faded memory?

Why—

Suddenly there was a knock on the door but before you could respond, it opened by itself.

"(Y/N) I wanted to—"

The sight left him quiet. Kurt, who's smile was on his face dropped immediately the second he saw what was happening. You stare back, guilt heavy in your gaze as your face turned red.

Oh nononononono....

Whatdoyoudo?run??hide???kickhimout???

Before you can even think of how to act, he was the first to act, he took a few steps inside your room before closing the door shut behind him. He approaches you, carefully, almost like you were a wild animal he didn't wanna scare off because it was clear you felt tensed and afraid of how he may react.

Once he was close enough, he looked at you with a concerned expression on his face. It was visible to see that he was more worried about your wellbeing than anything right now.

"Do you wanna talk?" He knelt down in front of you, his eyes roamed over your body to see just how much harm you’ve done to yourself.

You look at him, afraid to speak. Afraid he may not understand and right away, he understood what you were trying to express in your eyes and he tilts his head with a sympathic smile.

"…I’m not angry at you" He said, a soft and understanding expression on his face as he looked at you.

Just then, Kurt slowly reaches out to you and places his hands over yours, gently prying the blade from your hands. Even though the sight of the blood on your hands worries him, he manages to keep a calm and relaxed demeanor for your sake.

"Shhh. It's okay...it's okay..." He mumbles to you in a soft comforting tone as he sets the blade aside and gently take your bloody hands back in his.

Even though some may get on his. It didn't matter, all that mattered to him, was making you feel okay.

Sensing you didn't have the strength to speak... and seeing the tears forming in your eyes. He caresses the sides of your face to wipe the tears away with his thumb. His touch was gentle and in a way it comforted you.

Your avoiding eyes finally locked with his, just to be met with his warm and soft yellow eyes that made your heart melt. Despite how seeing the slight fear in your own eyes made his heart ache, he manages to give you a soft smile.

"It's going to be okay..." He assured as he held you closely against his chest, gently rubbing your back in a soothing manner. He was slightly surprised at how small your body felt in his arms, but that just made him want to hold you more tightly in his arms and tell you that everything would be alright.

"You're not alone... I'm here for you. I promise..." He softly placed his hand on the back of your head and gently stroked your hair.

His words and how he was treating you made you feel seen.

Cared for.

Loved.

"I'm sorry" You tried to stop your tears but you were unable to hold everything in anymore. At the same time, the burn of the cut made your skin itch.

"Shhh... it's okay" He muttered, holding you tighter to have you cry on his chest.

"You don't have to apologize... Shhh... it's going to be alright..." He continued on stroking your hair comfortingly while he rest his head on top of yours.

Kurt hold you closely to his chest, his arms wrapped around you as you cried like your lungs were burning. His cheek was now rested against the top of your head and how he carried on to make gentle hushing noises in an attempt to soothe you made you feel appeased.

"You're safe... you're safe... I promise you’re safe with me" He said.

The room was quiet as you two remained in each other's arms. No amount of words could express how belonged you felt in his embrace. Even though your face was a mess of tears and snot, he didn't care if it was getting all over his shirt because none of that mess is equal to the situation you're in right now.

By the time you have calmed down, he felt it was the okay time to treat your scars now. Being as gentle as he could, he lifted your head so he could look at your self-inflicted wounds, his expression showing his concern but not a trace of judgement.

"Let me help you" He said softly, his voice just as gentle as his touch.

You watched when he got up to get a band aid kit from your closet. Then returning back on the bed, the mattress sinking back down from his weight. Kurt grabbed a piece of clean towel and you couldn't help but find the sight of him dapping it gently on your cuts with such focus touching.

After applying a thin layer of antibiotics, he took a roll of sterile gauze from inside the first-aid kit and gently wrapped the gauze around your hands and arms to help stop the bleeding and prevent further scarring if possible. His touch was firm but tender, his fingers carefully wrapping the gauze around your wounds.

Once he had finished bandaging your hands and arms, he gently cupped your face in his hands and looked at you with care in his eyes.

"Are you feeling better now?" He asked and you hesitated... then nodded.

Seeing you nod made him feel a bit relieved, but he could still sense that you were feeling vulnerable and fearful. He looks at you with a glint of hope.

"You don't have to tell me everything now... let's take it slowly... hm?" He said and you nodded again, a grateful smile on your face.

"Mein hübsches mädchen" He leaned in, resting his forehead on yours as he closes his eyes.

"Lieber Gott, bitte schütze dieses Mädchen vor allem Bösen und Schaden. Helft ihr, sich zu erholen und zu heilen. Schenke ihr Frieden und Trost in dieser schwierigen Zeit" He uttered, a prayer you assumed, his voice was small and hushed that it was comforting listening to him.

When he finally opened his eyes, he smiles at you, his fangs becoming noticeable as well.

"What do you say we raid the kitchen? Hm?" He asked and with that playful look on his face. It was hard to say no.

"Yeah..." You answered and he gave you one last squeeze of a hug.

"I know you're hurt and scared, mein liebling. But I promise I'll always be here for you. Together we can get through anything" He said, his words being enough to make you feel better now.

"Thank you"

Deep down you knew your habits would still haunt you but at least now you felt there was somebody there for you, to help and care for you.

Healing itself has no end but is a lifelong journey.

A journey Kurt is willing to go on with you.

[notmorbid]

the americans, season 4.

dialogue prompts from season four of fx's the americans.

you okay?

it was the only way to protect you.

i'm not gonna be able to come back here.

everybody kind of hates me now.

i do, sometimes, rub people the wrong way.

did you screw something up?

not everyone's as lucky as you.

i wish i could live that way again.

you think everything is all about talking.

is something wrong? is something going on that i need to know about?

how do you feel in your body?

to forgive yourself, you have to create a space for it to exist.

you have a lot weighing you down, don't you?

there's a limit to how much progress you can make without being honest with yourself.

you're not destroyed.

you're safe. we're together.

i keep having these memories from when i was a kid.

everything here is out of the ordinary, isn't it?

can i talk to you alone for a second?

nobody can carry this sort of thing alone.

we could leave. maybe we should leave.

i'm looking for something good in all of this.

my world was too small for you.

were you surprised to hear from me?

i won't let you do anything that will put you in danger.

in a place like this, you have been a surprise.

i'm not who i was.

it's amazing what you get used to.

i'm not so good at approaching people.

there's always a better choice.

people believe what they need to believe.

i don't think it's something most people would understand.

losing a child is like nothing else.

you are living in a burning house.

i told myself i'd be safe if i just did what i was told.

i don't know why i expect anything.

you really know how to kill a party.

it eats you up, what we do.

there are places no one could find us.

it's not safe for us to be here. we need to go.

i'm not checking IDs. don't freak.

i just think it's very american, the whole thing.

you cannot get precious about your feelings.

you don't have to do anything you don't want to do.

come on. i have to always ask before you tell me anything.

free. i don't remember: what's that like?

i don't know a lot of happy couples.

there are a lot of jerks out there, and they all seem to want to date me.

you always undervalue yourself.

was your mom a good cook?

there's a word for what you just did: entrapment.

you can't understand america without trying a twinkie.

have you guessed why i'm here?

you're good at this, aren't you?

we may have to run.

i thought i could live like this.

you've done so much for me.

people disappear for all sorts of reasons.

promise me you won't give up.

'okay' means 'not okay'.

are you hungry? everybody brought food.

it's possible for people like us to forget ourselves.

i don't want your money. i don't want anything from you.

i think i kind of lost my mind.

i haven't felt the same since.

i tend to show up around mealtime.

i feel like i'm out on a limb and i've handed you a saw.

i will do anything to keep this family together.

how did you know how to do that?

i just keep replaying it over and over in my head.

i wish i could show you where i grew up.

think good thoughts.

it's time for you to come home.

i didn't change your mind. i reminded you who you were.

you always say we'll get through it, but you never say how.

maybe i need to learn how to defend myself.

every morning, i wake up with this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.

the absence of closeness makes you dry inside.

it's hard to know when it's too late.

this isn't how i wanted to tell you.

sometimes don't you just wish you could go back to being a little kid again?

you want to pack? get the hell out of here?

[justananxiousweirdo]

Can I request a fic where reader and joost are together but some mean girls/groupies who want him are being bullies and saying the reader doesn't deserve him?? It hits right in the insecurities and reader thinks maybe they're right but it's all fluffy and cute <3 I'm a big fan of your blog <3

I love this request. You’re amazing. Forehead kisses for you <3

Joost x Reader

You ran up to Joost the second he got off stage, peppering the side of his face in soft kisses. You were always so proud of him every time he performed. He made his way to the VIP area where his fans were waiting for him, you on his arm of course. For the most part the fans were nice just talking to Joost and getting a selfie and a signature. You were more than happy to take pictures for fans until you got to a group of three girls. All dressed in a little too little for the cold weather of the outdoor venue. You thought their outfits were cute, but not cold Netherlands weather friendly. When they asked to take a selfie with Joost you offered to take the picture for them, the three girls gave you a nasty look.

“No. It’s okay.”

“Yeah we don’t need you taking the picture.”

You furrowed your brows and tried to ignore it. But it just felt so unnecessary. Soon Aspon approached Joost and while Joost was distracted the girls turned to you again.

“What are you even doing here?”

“Joost deserves someone much better than you.”

“And hotter too.”

“You’re not good enough for him.”

They silenced the second Joost turned back around but their words weighed on you and Joost could tell something was up.

“Goodnight everybody! Hope you enjoyed the show!” Joost waved goodbye to his fans leading you away with him by the small out your back.

The second you made it to his dressing room he immediately asked you what was wrong. With tears you tried to say it was nothing. You didn’t want to bother him with your insecurities and you knew Joost would be sad to know his fans treated you like that. Or what if.. what if Joost realized they were right? You couldn’t bare the thought of losing him. You began crying harder and Joost pulled you into his chest kissing your forehead.

“Schatje.. tell me what’s on your pretty mind.”

“Those girls… they said I wasn’t enough for you… and that you deserved someone better…” you broke out between sobs.

“Oh, liefde, they’re so wrong. I’m the one that doesn’t deserve you. You’re the best woman I could’ve ever asked for. I love you more than anything in this world.” He wiped away your tears.

“Really?” Your tears began to dry.

“Of course, I’d do anything for you darling.”

You smiled at Joost thanking him for helping you feel better and he pressed another light kiss to your forehead before leaning down to capture your lips in a very passionate kiss. He also took the liberty of taking a picture of your kiss and posting it to his insta story saying how lucky he was to have you.

You two spent the rest of the night tangled in each other’s arms telling each other how much you loved one another. Joost was the best boyfriend ever.

Hope you enjoyed:)

[saturdaynightspecialpresentation]

Poor Things

First of all, Emma Stone’s performance is as good as everybody is saying. Stone takes a very difficult role that easily could have gone very, very wrong and makes it look like the most effortless thing in the world.

I have been looking at the reviews, good and bad, and I think that the minority of people who didn’t vibe with this movie had slightly skewed expectations.

Poor Things starts out at Tetsuo The Iron Man levels of fucked up, but by the end it has dropped to Edward Scissor hands levels of fucked up. This is probably plenty of weirdness for the average movie-goer, but true connoisseurs of mondo cinema should calibrate their expectations.

Second, apparently this is being talked up as a sort of feminist coming of age fable chronicling an everywoman’s sexual awakening and liberation, and it really isn’t that, and I think if you are hoping for that you’ll come away disappointed.

Better, I think, to look at it as an autistic coming of age fable and power fantasy, which I think it does a tremendous job at.

Very minor spoilers under the cut; really, this is more an essay about what I thought the film was about than a review, my review would be that it's somehow simultaneously a feel-good crowd-pleaser AND a movie where an adult woman with the brain of a toddler stabs the eyes out of a corpse with a scalpel and then plays with its penis (I wasn't kidding with the Tetsuo comparison)

Honestly now that I've actually written that out I have maybe underestimated how impressive it is that Yorgos Lanthimos made a movie where that happens on screen but somehow basically everybody loves the movie.

In terms of sex, we do watch Bella discover sex, but she very quickly comes to a conclusion about her relationship with it which never once changes throughout the rest of the movie:

She likes it, she likes it more with an attractive partner, she is utterly lacking in any kind of sexual jealousy, and she doesn't attach too much more to it than that.

This is an odd comparison, but Bella treats sex the way Joey did on Friends. A man acting this way is a sitcom cliche, but a woman acting the same way…

This is a film that is really, really not interested in the real-world consequences of this kind of sex; in fact, given that a pregnancy is the inciting incident of the film, it came off a little weird to me that the possibility of a pregnancy or STD was never really addressed (unless there was a line or two that I missed while I was in the bathroom).

For the most part, though, I was able to get past it by just thinking of it as a heightened world. The sets and settings are extremely artificial, and ultimately I figured, “Hey, if I can buy this kind of thing as harmless and fun in a sitcom, I can buy it in this other kind of heightened reality.

I will say, I don't think Bella is meant to be an every-woman, and that there's textual support for this in the film itself.

All of the women Bella deals with in some way question her approach to sex, making it clear, sometimes through explicit dialog, other times more reading between the lines, that her approach to sex is not for them.

If there’s any particularly feminist message in the film, it’s that when confronted with Bella’s bizarre approach to the world, none of the women get angry at her, and most of the men she meets do.

But Bella’s relationships with other women aren’t really the meat of the film, that’s more about her relationship with men, and particularly the way that they feel, deep in their bones, that they should have control over any woman that they have sex with.

Duncan Wedderburn, when he first discovers Bella and convinces her to go away with him, thinks he is tricking and seducing a beautiful naif who he can use and then discard when he tires of her. Their relationship disintegrates as it becomes clear that Bella hasn’t been tricked at all; she wanted exactly what he was able to give, a chance to sow her wild oats by having some no strings attached sex with an attractive, likable person in an exciting foreign city.

This makes Wedderburn increasingly unhappy and unhinged (He says at one point that he has become what he hates, a “grasping succubus”) much to Bella’s growing consternation. She has no idea why he can’t simply be happy having sex with her and otherwise letting her do what she wants, and he is so committed to a certain vision of gender roles that he can’t even begin to explain it, he can only lash out in frustration.

And that I think is the meatier part of the film; Bella doesn’t so much flout social expectations as she is simply totally unaware that they exist. 

Honestly I think the character isn’t so much coded as autistic as she just is autistic. Bella is a woman who is basically totally unaware of social expectations and constantly taken aback to discover that they exist.

More than that, she has to figure out a way to work around the fact that many of the people who become most enraged by her are also so totally lacking in self-reflection, and view their social situation as so normal, so self-evidently obvious that they cannot explain to her why it is she has made them angry. They suddenly fly into rages that clearly perplex Bella and which they themselves don’t even bother to explain, because they regard their own ideas as self-evident.

Bella is an idealized autistic hero; personally as outlandish as she is I don’t really think the film expects us to take the side of anybody else, and I think there are some fairly subtle and accurate bits of autistic behavior on her part.

She responds to life as a kind of social experiment, attempting to parse out a set of logical rules and, especially in the latter parts of the movie, she often justifies her actions with a perfectly sensible internal logic that the emotional men in her life can’t parse out. Late in the film, when she and Wedderburn are destitute, she prostitutes herself for 30 francs, and with implacable logic, explains the two reasons that Wedderburn ought to be quite happy she has done so: First, her john was much worse at sex than Wedderburn, which ought to satisfy his ego, and second, they now have 30 francs and the potential to earn more.

Wedderburn does not appreciate her logical approach.

Another thing that strikes me as very true is that Bella has a very odd theory of mind for other people. There’s a scene where, traumatized by the unspeakable poverty and suffering she sees in Alexandria, she puts all of Wedderburn’s money in a box and rushes out to give it to the poor. Unfortunately the ship is leaving, but two port attendants tell her that they will be staying on the island, and would be happy to deliver a package. She tells them that she has a big box filled with money and they should give it to the island’s poor, and they agree to do so. Now, the film never tells us one way or another whether they keep their word; but Bella herself retains an iron certainty that they did exactly what she asked them to. Now, we know Bella understands what lying and deceit are, because we’ve seen her trick people before, like when she chloroforms McCandles to run away with Wedderburn. But it never once occurs to her that these sailors might do something similar. Call it paradoxical, but that kind of thinking is common in autistic people.

There’s also the scene where the self-professed cynic Harry Astley shows her the suffering in Alexandria; he admits, when he sees how terribly it has affected her, that he didn’t tell her simply because he thought it was the truth of the world, but that her attitude made him angry, and he wanted to hurt her. A very common part of the autistic coming of age is the slow realization that not everything people tell you is part of a dispassionate, scientific search for the truth.

There’s also a scene in a whorehouse in which Bella argues that it would make more sense to have the women decide who is to sleep with the johns, so that then the john could be more confident that the girl was attracted to him, which he must doubt if he chooses. You can tell I’m autistic because I immediately had the thought, “Well, but the johns would probably be worried that nobody would choose them.”

One of Bella’s fellow working girls instead tells her, “Some of them like the fact that we don’t have a choice”.

[crownmemes]

Advice; Everyone Should Be Making the First Move

There's been a trend within the rpc here for years now where nobody is willing to make the first move. The problem with this is that if nobody ever makes the first move, then nobody is ever going to write anything. Considering that, everybody should be making an effort to be the first one to reach out to their writing partners more often.

Examples of making the first move:

Sending an IM to say hi, then suggesting a plot

Sending a meme to start a new thread

Responding to starter calls and open starters

All of this is just as valid for old partners as it is for new. If you haven't written with someone in a while, maybe it's time to reach out to start a new thread?

The most common reason I see for people not making the first move is social anxiety. I'm going to give you all a bit of tough love here: speaking as somebody who once had crippling social anxiety (and still does in irl settings), the best way to overcome it is to push yourself to try the things that make you anxious.

Communicating with people is a really important part of rp because it's not a solo hobby, therefore you are going to have to talk to people at some point. It's unavoidable. Here are a few reminders to help you feel a little less nervous:

If somebody follows back, they're doing it because they're interested in writing with you. They are not going to be upset if you send them an IM with plot ideas

Most people are friendly! In 12 years of rping on this site, I can count on one hand the number of people who I've talked to that were actively rude to me

It's okay if someone says no to you! People have different styles and not all of them will work together. If someone says no, say thank you for the consideration, then move on. There are more people to write with out there

If somebody is nasty to you, you can block them. Don't be afraid to do this; you don't have to explain yourself, and you wouldn't want to write with someone who's rude to you anyway

If you're not sure what to say, I usually go with a version of "Hello! Thank you for following/following back! I've looked through your rules and about pages. Would you be interested in plotting something for X and my character, Y? I have an idea already, if you would like to hear?"

Don't just say "Hi!". Cut to the chase and tell them why you're messaging so they immediately know what the conversation is about

Reasons why it's good to message first:

You look actively interested in writing. This is a huge boost in your favour when it comes to asking to write with someone

It makes it a lot easier to get new interactions

It makes you appear more active

If you're a new blog, you won't have a lot of examples of your writing on your blog yet. People will be more willing to give you a chance if you approach them first

If you don't message first, you are likely to be waiting a long time before somebody messages you

It's easier to make friends if you have an active conversation!

Some other thoughts on messaging first:

You have followed the person because you are interested in writing with them. Think about why you are interested, and suggest this as a plot idea

Make sure you read through the rules still. It's very obvious when you haven't. Also, look through the muses on offer so you can suggest which you'd like to write with

If the rules say they're not mutuals only, or that you're welcome to IM to introduce yourself if you want to plot, don't be afraid to message. They wouldn't have put that in their rules if they didn't mean it

If someone is reblogging memes, it's because they want to write responses to them. Send them in! If they didn't want them sent in, they wouldn't have reblogged the meme

IMing to plot is often a better idea than liking a starter call or sending memes if you have never interacted with the person before. It gives you a chance to work out what kind of thread would work well before you start something, so the resulting thread has a lower chance of fizzling out quickly

However, all that being said, it's not just up to the person messaging first to make all the effort. If the receiver doesn't put any effort in in return, then the person making the first move is going to think they aren't interested. Eventually, they may give up messaging people at all, because what's the point if it never goes anywhere? Some tips for not seeming uninterested:

If someone IMs you, try to reply to them in a timely fashion. Especially try to reply to them if they sent you a plot idea. You don't have to agree to do the idea - it's just very annoying to be ghosted the second you actually start plotting

Suggest your own plot ideas in return, or build on the idea that the other person has given you

If you agree to write a starter, or one is written for you, follow through with it. Write the starter, reply to the thread. If it's going to take a while, let your writing partner know that you've seen it but you're going to be slow for a while

Similarly, if you post memes, reply to the ones people send you. If you never reply, people will pick up on this and eventually stop sending you things

If you go on hiatus, message your writing partners directly when you get back to let them know you'd like to write again. This will demonstrate that you really are active and ready to write again

[wiltedreamofbaldursgate]

Steady Hands, Frame My Love

characters: Astarion x race/class neutral fem!Tav/reader word count: +3.2k Rating: M trigger warning: mild-ish sexual content. bad eyebrows. This hasn't been beta-read nor am I a native speaker. read on ao3 read more BG3 one shots

Entrusting you with his face isn’t easy for Astarion, which is exactly why you’re so nervous about the whole thing to begin with. You want to do your very best—make him look his very best so that Astarion can feel good about himself. You couldn’t bear anyone making a bad comment on his appearance when he trusts you to be his mirror.

“Come out, spawn. There is no use in hiding.”

You know there is trouble when you spot Lae'zel in front of Astarion’s tent. Her tiny nose is scrunched up in a way that would be cute if it didn’t mean she wants to skin someone alive. The perfectly sharpened blade twitching in her hand is just another hint that she’s out for blood. You almost can’t blame Astarion for hiding from the Githyanki warrior’s wrath—almost, because it’s within every reason to assume he’s brought her wrath upon himself. 

Taking a quick look around camp, you find that everybody is suspiciously busy minding their own business for once, skillfully ignoring the one-sided commotion in front of your lover’s tent. You can’t really blame them either; it’s been a very long day, and everybody wants to get some rest before dinner. You have half the mind to do the very same when Lae'zel’s intense gaze suddenly locks with yours—an honest rookie mistake.

There’s no use pretending you haven’t noticed her now, so you put your journal aside and approach the red tent with long strides and a smile that you can only hope will have a calming effect on her. Unsurprisingly, your hopes are shattered instantly. 

Lae'zel doesn’t wait for you to friendly inquire about what the fuck the matter is this time; before you can even open your mouth, she’s all the way in your face.

“The spawn does as he pleases!”

Lae'zel would need to get a great deal more specific when it comes to Astarion, but you refrain from telling her so, opting for a questioning look instead. 

The young warrior shakes her head, annoyed that her explanation isn’t sufficient enough for your small istik brain to comprehend.

“It is the spawn’s turn to fetch water from the stream. Thus is his duty,” Lae'zel explains slowly, accentuating every word with a well-placed hiss to get her point across. “A duty he fails to perform.” 

You think it is progress that she isn’t waving her sword at you, although she does glare at you as if you were the offending party, which—since your relationship with the pale elf has become common knowledge around camp—you somewhat are.

“Where I am from, we make sure to keep our mates in check, however pleasing they might be. You might want to do the same.” 

Maybe not so much progress, after all.

“Haven't I made myself quite clear on that before, Lae'zel?”

Holding her intense glare, you stare the warrior down. You have made yourself clear on occasion—you aren’t Astarion’s keeper. 

It takes a moment, but Lae'zel is the first to break eye contact, eventually taking a step back. Not lowering your gaze, you wait patiently for her to continue.

“The spawn would better honour his word, or else…” She spits, not at you, but at Astarion’s firmly closed tent flap. 

“I will remind him,” you assure her, not unkindly.

Lae'zel looks you up and down before she inclines her head ever so slightly.

“I trust you will,” she drawls, glaring at the tent one last time before she stalks away.

Left to take care of the issue at hand, you frown at the closed tent flap. As much as Astarion bitches about pulling his weight in camp, it’s unlike him to not do his chores one way or the other. And now that you think about it, he’s set up his tent uncharacteristically fast earlier, too, not even trying to rope anyone in to help him do his work. The realisation that you haven’t seen him since he vanished into said tent quite a while ago settles unpleasantly in your stomach. 

“Astarion?”

You step closer to the heavy fabric closing off the tent’s entrance, listening. There’s no answer, although you do hear some hurried movement from within the tent. It’s a good sign, you suppose.

“You good in there?”

The silence stretches for another moment before Astarion finally lets out an exaggerated sigh. Going by the sound of it, he, too, must be standing rather close to the entrance.

“Truth be told, darling, I have been better.”

“Are you hurt?” You ask, not bothering to hide the obvious worry lacing your voice. 

When could he have even gotten hurt? Haven’t you checked up on everyone after your earlier fight with some overly pesky, giant spiders? Or is he just messing with you—trying to avoid his laborious chore after all?

It takes yet another moment for Astarion to mumble something incomprehensible in reply. With raised eyebrows, you repeat your question, which earns you another sigh from him, this time more exasperated than theatrical. 

“I just so happened to get some acid in my face when we took care of those cursed spiders and—”

“And?” You press, alarmed.

“It’s nothing, darling, really; it’s just—well…”

“Astarion!”

The vampire curses, and you can hear him step even closer to the tent’s opening, closer to you. You’re almost sure that if you pressed your hand against the fabric shielding him from you, you would be able to touch him. 

“They're gone,” he says, his voice so low you have to strain your ears to hear him. 

Your frown deepens. “What is?” 

More mumbling reaches your ear, and Astarion has to repeat himself twice before you can eventually make any sense of his words. You stare at the tent flap in disbelief. You can't have heard right.

“Your eyebrows are gone?”

Astarion inhales sharply. “Must you scream it around for everyone to hear? Come in, come in!”

Not knowing what to expect, you enter the tent. 

Astarion has retreated to the shadows; his hand is firmly pressed against his forehead. You stare up at him, trying to assess the situation. He looks pained alright, although you have an inkling it’s more from wounded vanity than actual injury. As you step closer to him, you give him a reassuring smile.

“So, acid, huh? I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

He is not convinced. At all. Wordlessly, he’s staring back at you, his jaw set. Your smile fades.

“Let me take a look?” You try again, feeling your already shaky optimism dwindle further.  

He thinks it over for a couple of heartbeats before he slowly drags his hand to his hairline, pushing up the stands of white hair that usually fall so gracefully in his face… 

Astarion must’ve drunk a healing potion because the presumably once-angry burns on his skin have already faded into pale red blotches sprinkled all over his forehead. By morning, nobody would even be able to tell the acid burns were ever there—were it not for Astarion’s eyebrows, or what’s left of them, that is.

You instantly force your face into a mask of neutrality. You have to approach this very delicately.

“It’s… salvageable. Really,” is all you can blurt out, though. 

Astarion’s crimson eyes grow comically round, accentuated by the lack of eyebrows; he doesn’t believe a word you say, which you can’t really hold against him. You’re talking shit. It’s bad, and you wonder how in the nine hells you haven’t noticed this before.

“You can redraw them here and…there,” you go on for lack of anything better to say—Gods, you really should shut up. “Fill them back in, you know…?” 

Astarion wets his lips while you're evading his piercing gaze.

“Why, what a grand idea,” he breathes, shakily. “I never would’ve thought of that myself. If only there wasn’t this one peculiar little thing. What was it again, my dear?”

You cringe. Of course. Of course… How could you forget?

“Ah, right…” You only notice the delicate hand mirror Astarion was holding when it flies across the tent, shattering somewhere on the bare ground farthest from you. “I can’t fucking see my face!” 

As if all strength has left his body, Astarion sinks to the ground, where he lets himself fall back into his pile of blankets, arms draped over his eyes. It’s all rather dramatic, but you guess you can’t have one without the other. 

Grimacing, because you’re sorry for him, you sink to your knees next to him, gently tugging at his sleeve. 

“Do you want me to do it? Redraw them, I mean.”

You can tell by the way Astarion sits up as if struck by lightning that he was only waiting for your offer. Suddenly very close, he considers you with narrowed eyes.

“I suppose you could,” he muses, tracing the shape of your left eyebrow with his index finger. “You usually look presentable enough.” 

You let the comment slide, but not without rolling your eyes at him. It’s just show, though, a way to suppress a smile. Astarion thinks he’s sly about it, but you catch him often enough looking at you as if you were the sun at dawn. 

Of course, you would never dare mention that to him.

“Give me a minute,” you say instead, already rising to your feet, were it not for the cold fingers curling around your wrist.

Astarion gives you a stern look as he's holding you in place, his nose nearly brushing against yours. “Not a word to anyone about this.” 

You give him a solemn look in return as you comb your fingers through his hair, gently guiding some stray locks back into place. “I’ll take your secret to the grave.”

Your hand is trembling just a little—enough for Astarion to notice. Enough for that damn smirk to find its way to his lips. You hold your breath. 

“Nervous, love?” 

Yes, and it’s stupid because you’ve done this often enough—daily, even. It’s just easier to apply cosmetics on yourself, sitting in front of a mirror and not kneeling in front of him, trying to evade his piercing gaze. 

“Why would I be?” You scowl, readjusting the hold on your charred willow stick that has yet to make contact with Astarion’s skin. “Aren’t my eyebrows, are they?”

You shift closer to him, brushing against his leg with your knee, which doesn’t help your case at all. You can’t help feeling a little shaky when he’s this close—and he knows it. 

“No need to tremble like a virgin, then, my sweet.” 

Giving him a sharp look, you draw back a little, although you don’t make it far. 

“Maybe you just need to come a little closer still,” he purrs as his hand takes hold of the back of your knee, pulling you onto his lap in one swift motion. “Might be less distracting for you…”

For someone close to having a meltdown less than fifteen minutes ago, he’s surely having lots of fun now. Biting your lower lip, you adjust your weight, straddling Astarion properly. Trying to ignore the hard body pressing against yours, you assess the natural growth of his eyebrows again, eventually setting the tip of the charred willow stick down on his skin, only to remove it again. This won’t work like this. 

“Honestly, can you please just close your eyes?” 

Astarion scoffs. “Should I blow out the candles, too, while I’m at it? Leave the nightdress on?” 

“Shut up, or you’ll end up looking like a clown.” 

That eventually does the trick. He gives you one last look that is somewhere between peeved and wary before he closes his eyes. 

Entrusting you with his face isn’t easy for Astarion, which is exactly why you’re so nervous about the whole thing, to begin with. You want to do your very best—make him look his very best so that Astarion can feel good about himself. You couldn’t bear anyone making a bad comment on his appearance when he trusts you to be his mirror. The thought alone makes you shudder.

Astarion’s hand wanders up from your knee to your hip, giving it a gentle squeeze; this time, his touch is more encouragement than teasing. 

After taking a deep breath, you lean back in. 

With steady hands, you begin to redraw the missing parts of his eyebrows. Taking your time, you make sure to follow the natural shape of them; to blend out the colour where the charcoal comes off as too stark a contrast to his white hair. 

While you’re working, Astarion doesn’t move one bit, eager—for once—to not fluster you. It’s not until you lean back to consider the fruits of your labour that he opens his eyes again. 

“And?”

“Well,” you muse, “you look presentable enough.” 

He scowls as you throw his own words back at him; you suppress a laugh before you take his face between your hands.

“If I could see the stars right now, I could not tell them apart from you,” you proclaim, mimicking his dramatics once again. It’s not as funny when you do it, so you’re quick to add, “You’re as beautiful as ever.”

You mean it, and Astarion knows it; trusts that you do. He leans forward to brush a kiss against your lips, hugging you to him, which is as much thanks as you expected to receive. 

“Will you do it again tomorrow? And the day after,” he mumbles into the crook of your neck, “please?”  

“Of course,” you assure him, deepening the embrace, “until they’ve grown back.”  

Astarion hums in agreement and you remain like this for a moment before you pull back to look into his eyes, which are once again framed by a pair of sharp eyebrows accentuating his perfect features. 

“I should’ve noticed earlier,” you say, at last. “I’m sorry. I’m not a very good mirror, it seems.” 

Astarion frowns at you, the intensity of his gaze taking you aback as it is wont to do. 

“Don’t be,” he urges, gently taking your dominant hand in his. He runs his fingers along the back of it, careful not to put too much pressure on your still-raw skin. His touch stings nonetheless, reminding you of your own acid burns that have yet to heal—those spiders really are a menace. “You should be more careful, too, you know? You’re the only working mirror I have.”

You’re lying flat on your back before you can even gasp in surprise. To your embarrassment, your legs have already wrapped around Astarion’s waist; all you can see is that damn smirk on his lips as he’s towering over you, his face barely a finger width away from yours. Your breath hitches as you take him in; nobody has any right to be this beautiful. 

“It would be a shame if I lost it, my precious little mirror,” he sighs before pressing his lips to yours. 

It’s a far cry from his earlier kiss—heated, needy. Knowing you don’t stand a chance against his tongue gliding over your lower lip, you open your mouth to him, slowly losing yourself in him. There’s really nothing easier than that.

Your hand moves to the back of his neck, pulling him even closer as your fingers dig through his locks, eliciting a low moan from him. This is a lot more thanks for your service than you’ve expected, but you find yourself unable to complain. Your mouth is far too occupied for that anyway.

It’s almost obscene how easily Astarion can undo your stays and by the time his hand finds its way underneath your thin shirt, your mind is long clouded by lust. Leaving goosebumps in its wake, his hand glides over your belly up to your sternum before it firmly cups your breast. The lazy pace of his thumb drawing circles around your hardened nipple has you aching your back, trying to ease the wet heat gathering between your legs. 

Wet.

Somewhere very far in the back of your mind, you remember that you had a reason for coming to him earlier—way before you ended up on his lap, let alone underneath him. Let alone this damn wet. What was it again? 

You break loose from Astarion to take a quick breath. Not wasting any time away from you, his lips begin to trace along your jaw, your throat, your collarbone; his wicked grin is painfully obvious against your skin. By the time you realise Astarion is scheming something, he’s already pushing his knee under your ass, repositioning you so that you can feel his hardness pressing against your core. You hiss at the sudden contact. 

Ah, right—hiss! Lae'zel.

You throw your head back with a sigh as Astarion begins to grind his hips against you, making any thought of the Githyanki warrior evaporate quickly. Fuck Lae'zel and her sense of duty and honour. You can just sit out her wrath with Astarion right here, right now, however long it may take. It doesn’t really matter that you’re not sitting much, either.

But then again, maybe this is why your companions take offence at you the moment Astarion is stepping out of line, although you’re sure they would be biassed, too, if they knew how positively divine he feels—especially when he’s teasing the waistband of your trousers with his long fingers as he does now. Your hips move in answer to his touch, and yet…Fuck.

You groan. Not with pleasure but from your own sense of duty. The others trust you as much as Astarion does; that’s why they somehow thought it wise to make you their leader. Almost annoyed with yourself, you prop yourself up on one elbow, pressing your hand against Astarion’s chest, telling him to stop before you’re way past the point of no return. 

He raises an eyebrow at you. His hair is messy and his lips are red and swollen from your kisses and by the Gods you want him to fuck you. It takes you a very long moment to gather yourself.

“Now that we took care of your issue,” you pant, tracing the shape of his left eyebrow with your index finger, “you might wanna go fetch water if you don’t want Lae'zel to wipe them off right away.” 

Tilting his head, Astarion gives you a long look. His fingers keep digging into your thigh which has you grinding your teeth to suppress another sigh. He doesn’t buy your attempt at keeping order and peace, not when he can undoubtedly feel you trembling with need for him. You’re not even protesting when he leans back over you, one arm next to your head to support his weight. 

“So, what?” he breathes against your shoulder before planting a hot kiss against your skin. And another. And another, as he is slowly kissing his way down your body. “You said you would redo them over and over and over again, didn’t you, darling?” 

Holding your breath, you watch your shirt being pushed up the lower he’s moving down on you, gasping only when the crisp evening air caresses your exposed chest. 

Astarion’s trail of kisses comes to a halt right below your belly button. His crimson eyes are looking at you expectantly but you’re too preoccupied with his fingers slowly undoing your trousers to make any sense of his wordless question. You swallow. 

“You did say that, didn’t you?” He repeats, the amusement evident in his voice.

“Yes,” you nod rather enthusiastically. “No problem. Not at all.” 

“That’s what I thought,” Astarion grins, finally freeing you of your trousers to see how pathetically ready you already are for him.

Duty can wait a little longer, you decide as you give yourself over to the pale elf. You only promised Lae'zel to remind Astarion of his chores, not that you would make him do them, you reason. 

You’re not his keeper, after all. 

[daytaker]

Hii if you have time, could you do one where the brothers react to an mc who is naturally distant? Like they just prefer to be by themselves 90% of the time so it will be hard to bond with them at first?

Hope you're having a good day! :D

Oh, you mean me, unfiltered? Damn. Well, you asked for it.

Skip to the end for my actual thoughts on what would happen as a whole. But first for the individual brothers, because I think this is what Anon wanted.

Reacting to a Highly Introverted MC

Lucifer

Lucifer isn't particularly bothered by this. If anything, it's a relief, because if you're off entertaining yourself and not assisting his brothers with hijinks, that saves him a huge amount of time and stress.

Once you get to know each other a little better though, he'll probably appreciate your quiet presence simply for what it is. You're someone he can sit in comfortable silence with while he works. He probably isn't one of the brothers who connects with MC by uncovering their more open side, but it might make him a relief to spend time with, since you need that quiet time to recharge after time with Asmo and Mammon.

Mammon

Mammon doesn't get it at first. He thinks you're haughty, or you think you're better than him, maybe because you hold prejudices against demons. After a few somewhat forced encounters where you have no choice but to interact with Mammon, he starts to get to know your less reserved side, and eventually he realizes you're not an asshole, you're just quiet and spend a lot of time on your own. He's not especially good at respecting your need for alone time, as boundaries have never been his strong suit, but if you're able to be assertive with him, he'll reluctantly give you your space.

If anything, your distance from others in general makes him think that your friendship is even MORE special than he does with Vanilla MC. Because it isn't like you're going around making friends with everybody left right and center, but he's still one of the lucky few.

Leviathan

I get the feeling that you and Levi would actually get on very well if you ever took the time to actually learn anything about each other. That's the sticking point though. Unless you are interested in anime and express it in a way that Levi can easily see (a T-shirt, for example) he won't think to open up to you. After all, what's there to be gained from revealing any specifics of his interests to some normie who's just going to mock him for his interests.

Satan

Satan probably sees you as something of a kindred spirit: aloof and content to watch things from the sidelines much of the time. He won't make any attempt to connect with you over this though, so it's pretty useless. It won't be until you've made some sort of expression of interest in him as a person, or in something he's interested in (read: books or cats) that he deigns it worthwhile to approach you. From that point, though, you probably spend a fair amount of time in each others' presence, not unlike your relationship with Lucifer.

Asmodeus

When you aren't immediately drawn to Asmo and his magnetic personality and devastating good looks, he isn't sure what to think. His reaction isn't too different from Mammons, but it's maybe a little stronger. He's also more persistent in trying to get you to open up with him. He sees your distance as a challenge, and either he'll succeed in getting you to open up with his warmth and charisma, or he'll only manage to push you further away.

Beelzebub

Beelzebub isn't that bothered by your need to be alone. He's very attuned to other people and their wants and needs, so he sort of implicitly understands that you're distant because being distant serves a purpose for you and keeps you happy and healthy. Because he seems to understand you and doesn't pressure you into things you aren't comfortable with, but also doesn't show absolutely no interest in getting to know you, he's probably one of if not the first brother you open up to a bit and begin spending time with.

Belphegor

Belphie isn't too impressed by your distance. He's not the sort to put a whole ton into building a relationship, so without you putting in a large amount of the effort, that bridge isn't going to be built anytime soon. If you ever did manage to get comfortable enough around each other, though, you would probably be pretty good nap buddies.

I'll finish off with a general, plot-related train of thought I found interesting when writing this...

Generally, being distant just slows down the progression of your relationship with each of the brothers. When you aren't that interested in going out and getting to know some of them, like Levi and Satan, it's going to be a lot harder to become close to them. Not to mention that if we're going with OG Season 1 as the starting point, who knows if you ever even meet Belphie, no matter how often he sends cryptic messages and calls for help through the walls.

Not meeting Belphie will slow down the entire plot, naturally, because you have no impetus to start making pacts. It's possible that Levi is able to get you to manipulate Mammon into a pact the same way he did in the original, but beyond that, you don't really have a reason to go around making pacts with anybody.

So when it's been a year and you've only got a single pact and the entire arc with Belphie doesn't happen and your connection to Lilith is never revealed....then what? Belphie is still locked in the attic, and who knows what will happen with that. If Lucifer releases him, I see two possibilities: he tries to revolt against Diavolo, which is stupid, or he goes and wreaks havoc in the human world. Lucifer would probably see that too, and he'd just stay in the attic. Lucifer would have to come up with new reasons to explain Belphie's absence to his brothers, and Beel, given his connection with Belphie, would probably become suspicious and begin to uncover the truth purely this way. Really, now that I think of it, this kind of lays bare the plot hole that Belphie could have told his brothers about what was happening through their dreams all along, but we'll skim over that for now.

Basically, if MC is hyper-introverted, the entire house of cards that is the Obey Me Cinematic Universe collapses in on itself.

[holycatsandrabbits]

How to Write Implied Smut 

**Ironically, this article is somewhat NSFW**

So you want to write about sex without writing about sex. (Or maybe you don’t want to, but you need to, which is usually where I end up.) Some writers and readers love smut, and some don’t, which is totally valid. Or sometimes you’ve got a couple of characters who’d like to get it on, but your story guidelines require a SFW rating. Whatever the reasons for keeping things under cover (pun intended), here are some helpful hints about hinting:

Method 1: Read between the lines

In this approach, there are no sex scenes at all, no (heavy) kissing, no wandering around in nothing but your socks. You want the reader to know Jane and Betsy participate in a certain indoor sport together, but we’re not going to pop a single blouse button on-screen. Here are three ways to do it:

Situation-based clues include having Jane and Betsy share a room at a hotel, arrive at work or leave together, keep their stuff at each other’s houses, wear each other’s clothes, etc. 

Other characters can assume Jane & Betsy are a couple, knowing that if you text one at three a.m. the other is likely to answer, or if you tell Jane something, Betsy will immediately know, or even blatantly stating they aren’t just roommates.

Jane and Betsy themselves can act like they’re lovers in a SFW way. G-rated signs of offscreen physical intimacy include sitting in each other’s laps, touching faces, briefly kissing on the mouth, and holding hands.

This “between the lines” method leaves the physical relationship entirely to the reader’s imagination. There are no hints of specifics in the bedroom, no scenes that will get your reader’s temperature rising. Perfect for some writers and readers. The next two methods have more heat.

Method 2: Kiss and don’t tell

This is what they call “closing the door.” Cue your characters kissing and then fade to black, and if you want to say what happens afterward, stick to general terms. You know, it was a very enjoyable evening, they got to know each other better, Jane learned what it was like to spend a night with Betsy. 

You can also have Jane and Betsy wake up in bed together the next morning, possibly showing them zipping up their dresses or even searching for their dresses wherever they may have been flung off on the way to the bedroom. You can even hang handcuffs from the headboard—and guess what? That’s all still G-rated.

Example from my (rare) SFW works:

They touched as much as they liked then, with fingers and mouths certainly, but also with toes and ears and knees. They laughed and moaned and they learned how to be as close as two people could ever be to each other, not just touching anymore, but for many sparkling moments actually being one body.

–The Other Arrangement (one of my Good Omens fanfics)

Unlike the first method, this “close the door” bit leads the reader into thinking about the specific bedroom scenario you’ve set up, which they can imagine at any heat level they like—or not imagine it at all. (Not everybody wants to look through the keyhole.) The last method is a bit more, well, explicit.

Method three: Think hard—er, carefully—about word choice

How to say they’ve got erections without saying they’ve got erections:

“Oh,” said Aziraphale, in a brave voice, “and here I thought my enthusiasm was rather obvious.”

Crowley didn’t move, but the expression on his face suggested that he could feel exactly what Aziraphale was talking about, and that he knew Aziraphale could feel the same from him.

-The Angel’s Bracelet (oh wow more Good Omens).

Believe it or not, you can actually have SFW sex on-screen if you’re choosy with words. So hard becomes aroused, ass becomes rear, tits become chest. Don’t name any super-naughty body parts at all. 

Terri was even softer and warmer than Heather had imagined, her curves unable to be contained by Heather’s small hands. Not that Heather didn’t try, and that was when they realized they probably should not be doing this in the library.

“You will let me take you on a real date, won’t you?” Terri asked, smoothing Heather’s hair where it had come loose from her bun.

“Well, what’s customary for a fifth date?” Heather asked, refastening two of Terri’s shirt buttons.

–Blind Date with a Book (wtf this is not Good Omens?!) 

In this “word choice” method, the reader knows exactly what’s happening, but it’s still safe enough to be read in public. It’s like naughty art with careful blurring. This method can be satisfying for a reader who doesn’t want to have to imagine the rest of the scene, or at least wants to know how the writer imagined it. And it’s good for writers who want to obey the letter of the law while still showing a love scene (see how I used the SFW term for “sex scene”?).

Writing smut without smut is a good tool (pun intended sorry) for writers because it lets those who don’t want to write smut still convey high heat between their characters, and because it lets smut-comfortable writers reach SFW audiences. I often have two versions of stories I’m submitting, one explicit and one not, so I can try more markets.

Please note you should never send an explicit work to a submission call unless the guidelines specifically say it’s allowed, because some editors/slush readers don’t want to read smut. When in doubt, politely query first.

Anyway if you want to read some more of my non-fanfic smut go here.

Thanks for reading! Looking for (SFW) inspiration? Get some weird writing prompts

This article was first published on my writing blog

DannyeChase.com ~ AO3 ~ Linktree ~ Weird Wednesday writing prompts blog ~ Resources for Writers 

Image credit

[oddly-casual]

Puzzlematsu Another One Overanalysis

Okay so I caved and properly edited my analysis of the Puzzlematsu set Another One. Not sure what its another one of, but I think it might be related to the Angel&Devil set because of its similar theming and colors.

The Angel & Devil set was more about right verses wrong. How the NEET’s approach things they actually struggle with (Example Kara and being a pushover).

The sets are also called Insider, and the description mentions them having an inner battle. More than that I think these sets specifically might be about inner desire, and how they choose to confront the thing their minds hide away.

Each set has one of the sextuplets being suddenly confronted with a shadow with a cracked mask, the last image always being how that Sextuplet choice to confront this piece of themself. I, personally, love the way they’re presented to us.

I like to make myself laugh by saying the shadow is coming out of Osomatsu’s ass.

For Osomatsu’s set, it repeats a lot of what we already know, but I like how it presents it to us.

Osomatsu is a park when his shadow shows up. A place he and his brothers spent a lot of time as children and as an adult its where he can be surrounded by like minded individuals (literal children). In the show itself, Osomatsu is known to bum around the park for day drinking or even just because he has nothing better to do. He’s literally surrounded by nostalgia and I think that’s where his shadow is the strongest.

The real meat of the meal comes from the final image of each set. It’s an explosion of color and conflict and Osomatsu’s just has so much to chew on.

For starters, Osomatsu's mask isn’t the only one with a smile on it. It is, however, the only mask with sharp teeth. Most of its cracks are from the top of the head and barely reach the eyes.

The masks are just that, masks for hidden desire or maybe even their more buried nature. For someone who is openly a piece of garbage, why is the mask so intact? What can we get from the mask itself?

It could be that the mask has such sharp teeth as a scare tactic. Something that makes others steer clear of it as a defense mechanism, or it could be how Osomatsu genuinely sees himself. Someone dangerous or aggressive. The cracks on the top of the mask could even be seen as devil horns, much like the image of Devilmatsu that Osomatsu is known for.

More over, Osomatsu is the only Matsu who is aggressive with their inner self so openly. Is it something he really doesn’t want to deal with? Or something he’s forcefully repressing? The inner self appears smug, like it knows there's nothing Osomatsu could do that would force it away forever.

I also find it interesting and kind of cute- how each sextuplet has a token in Osomatsu’s set, rather than anything that is unique to him. There is the money, but money is superficial. Everybody likes money.

The money itself is scattered and all over the place. Instead, its the little tokens of his brothers that are placed behind protective walls. Kept in place, unbroken, and where Osomatsu can keep an eye on them.

And really, that can mean so much. From- he loves his brothers- to -yikes- but regardless I think its an interesting way to frame Osomatsu’s perspective of his family and his inner self.

Karamatsu’s location of choice is a little hard for me to put my finger on in terms of meaning. Really, if we wanted a place that mostly belonged to Karamatsu, he would be on the bridge or the roof even. Except he’s not, so I wondered what made this window so important.

On one hand, I think they chose it as a reference to The Karamatsu Incident, even the sky changes when the shadow appears.

It could also just be because Karamatsu’s home is his safe place and where he likes to look at himself the most.

It’s also a little on the nose that his shadow comes from the mirror in a time of literal self reflection. Not to mention the shadow is the only one that directly grabs Karamatsu- almost like its demanding his attention.

For such a flashy guy, Karamatsu’s final image in the set is shockingly simple. The only thing really note worthy of his background would be his glasses and the arrows.

As for his glasses, they do get broken quite a bit in the show. He also uses them to hide, or appear more confident. In this confrontation, he doesn’t need to hide- hence why they're so out of reach. It could also be hinting at a shattered confidence.

The arrows? I’m not completely sure why those are there. The only thing I can really think of, is Todomatsu and the Five Demons. When each brother was hit with arrows when Todomatsu was eating them up verbally.

Which could mean the arrows are a stand in for hurtful words. If we want to take it more literal, then the arrows could represent the stand still Karamatsu feels in his life. The arrows are stuck, embedded in crystal. They cannot fulfill their purpose and they cannot go further than what they’ve reached. If you catch my drift.

Karamatsu’s mask is the only one with a frown on its face. The only shadow that shows its sadness.

We know Karamatsu is an emotional and sensitive guy, so that isn't too surprising. He tries to be a larger than life cool guy, but he’s actually super sensitive (His background being the most cracked and shattered could also hint at this.)

But his mask is just a bit more cracked up then Osomatsu’s, and if we follow a similar line of thinking when it comes to the mask, it could be how Karamatsu sees his buried emotions. Sad and pathetic- or its just how his emotions really are.

Not to mention Karamatsu is the one comforting his inner self. Meaning he is aware of its existence, accepts it, but still hides it. That, or he understands it but just isn’t ready for the mask to come off yet.

He’s cringe and he’s not free

This set feels like the equivalent of doing something fun only to stop and realize you probably look cringe as fuck. Like drawing your homestuck oc in 2025- I say, as I look in a mirror

Once again, Choromatsu is in the comfort of his own home, where he can indulge in his interests and have fun. That’s when the self reflection kicks in, but its inviting and encouraging. It wants Choromatsu’s attention, or maybe to distract him.

Like Osomatsu, most of the meat comes from the final image. I’ve noticed Choromatsu is very self aware, but chooses denial more often than not.

Choromatsu openly admits to being a pervert. That he likes being lazy, and that he is an asshole- yet he’ll double back into denial right after confessions like that.

His background is structured, but its also breaking apart. Things like his glow sticks and his cardboard appliances are restricted by vines with thorns. Though I still have some trouble trying to figure out what that means.

Thorns can generally represent sacrifice or even just holding something hostage. Really, it could go either way.

Choromatsu could see these things as something he’s forcing himself to hold onto despite the facts that they’re holding him back.

It could also be things he feels like he can’t indulge in, because he needs to be proper member of society. Only his inner self trying to get him to let go of expectation. A battle of mind and heart.

Choromatsu doesn’t look at his inner self, but they are physically touching. Meaning he knows what his inner self wants, and he is aware of it, but he’s trying to pretend it’s not there. Like he doesn’t want to acknowledge it as a piece of himself but doesn’t force it away.

Sources!

Here’s the fandom Wiki for the set itself

The images themself I got directly from User @snowimatsu appreciate you sugarplum

It was really fun revisiting an older analysis of mine to touch it up, especially seeing how differently I view the characters now. I should have the younger brother’s dissection up by tomorrow. Kiss kiss!

Edit:

The younger brothers have been finished. Enjoy!

[samm1e13]

In Another Life

dear rue, don’t hate me 🥺 @rueclfer full fic to the angst drabble i wrote the other day, which can be found here; angst drabble

synopsis; he’d never be yours in this life, but maybe in another he could be. (dabi/touya x reader)

cw; angst, allusions and mentions of character death, fem!reader imagined but not exclusively stated can be read as gn!reader, quirkless reader, mentions of endeavor (yes i consider this man a warning), i think that’s all

word count; 1.7k

please don’t use, copy, or steal my writings thank you and enjoy 😊

“fuyumi invited me to dinner this weekend. she says everybody will be there. your mom, natsuo, and shoto. i think he might also be there, she didn’t say but i could tell by the look on her face. i told her i’d think about it,” you sit on the uncomfortable plastic chair in the bland white room.

the only sounds are the beeping and the raspy shutters of the life support machine that is keeping touya alive.

“do you think i should go?” you're silent as you wait for him to answer. fuyumi had told you that you would be the only one to visit him today, meaning he’d be able to answer you if he wanted.

“that’s up to you.” his voice is raspier than you’ve ever heard it before, you know it’s because he’s burned his vocal cords beyond repair.

“i don’t think he likes me very much. he always glares at me,” you explain and watch the roll of his eyes as he lets out a scoff.

“i’m serious, he never liked me as a kid because i’m quirkless. i’m pretty sure it’s still the same. i know he only puts up with me because your mom forces him to since i’m friends with all of you four.” you assume the garbled sound that leaves him is a laugh and it makes you chuckle in turn.

“i miss those days,” he sighs and you smile nostalgically, as a kid you’d go to his house after school some days and nearly every weekend to play with him, fuyumi and natsuo. 

you were their neighbor and the same age as fuyumi who you quickly became friends with, and grew incredibly close to touya. so close that you developed a crush on him at five years old, though you’d never admit to it.

“yeah,” you sigh while looking over to the machine encasing him, “me too.”

it’s been almost two weeks since you last went to visit touya, work has been keeping you busy lately and you’re finding it hard to make time for him.

you have tomorrow off and have made the plans to go see him, fuyumi already knows and is making sure nobody else will go see him so that you can have the whole day with him.

it’ll be nice, you think, to see him and spend an entire day without having to worry about leaving if his family shows up.

you love them you do, but sometimes it’s nice to just be with touya. 

“you should tell him how you feel,” fuyumi’s voice sounds from your phone as you make your way into the facility where touya is.

“does everybody know?” you groan out, stepping to the check in desk and writing your name down.

“everybody except him,” fuyumi laughs, “you’ve been in love with him since we were five it’s not hard to miss.”

you scoff, of course it isn’t. it’s not like you hid it, but admitting it isn’t as easy as it seems. you have no idea whether he feels the same, and the fear that he might not make it out of the facility is what keeps you from telling him.

“i’m just scared yumi, what if he doesn’t feel the same?” you pause to take a breath as you enter the elevator.

“what if he does?” she responds,

“ok well what if he doesn’t get better? i don’t want to get my heartbroken,” you explain through a heavy sigh.

“and what if this is the push he needs to get better?” she’s always been the logical one.

“i’ll think about it, but i’m here. i’ll talk with you later,” you say your goodbyes as you approach his room.

you smile as his eyes flicker towards you when you enter the room.

“i know you can’t have any but i brought soba to eat. figured it might cheer you up a bit since it is the day before your birthday.” he rolls his eyes and scoffs as you sit in the uncomfortable plastic chair.

“i’m sorry i haven’t come to see you, works been keeping me busy.” you sigh and take a bite of the soba you brought.

he only grunts in return and you sit in silence for a while.

“will you be here tomorrow?” his voice startles you out of your thoughts.

“i might come after your family, i don’t want to be around your father.” you explain and he makes a humming sound.

the silence stretches another few minutes before he coughs violently, you’re by his side immediately to check if he’s alright.

“are you okay? i mean obviously you aren’t but i fuck i’m bad at this.” you ramble on and he chuckles deeply, or at least he tries to.

“i’m as good as i can be.” his eyes meet yours and you feel your knees weaken. his eyes were always your favorite.

“do you want me to go?” you ask, he gives a slight shake of his head.

“just sit with me for a while.” he whispers and you do. 

you spend the rest of your visit rambling to him about the last two weeks and he listens in silence, giving an answer here and there.

he’s asleep by the time your visit is over and you smile softly at his sleeping form.

you stand to leave, leaning over the machine to get a look at his face.

“goodnight touya, i love you.” you whisper and gather your stuff to leave.

you miss the twitch of his eyelids as you walk out.

you see him the next day for his birthday, surrounded by his family. and although his father is there too, you’re able to manage being around him for touya.

it’ll be another week before you can see him again, so you enjoy the time you have today.

the night of his birthday, you dream of another life.

in the dark of the night, when the people sleep and the city is quiet, on a rooftop under the clear sky, two figures sit and watch the stars.

“if you had the chance to go back and redo things, would you change anything or keep it all the same?” a whispered voice carries in the wind, a chill running through his veins.

there’s a soft humming sound that filters in the air, an acknowledgment of the question and his head tilts as he processes your words. the stars blink at him in anticipation, silently awaiting his answer.

“i don’t know.”

his voice is meager, afraid to speak any louder and scare you away again. but it’s clearer than you’ve ever heard it before.

“do you?”

such a simple question yet the answer is anything but.

he draws in a breath at your silence.

“i think i would change one thing.”

a pause, he turns to look at you.

“i’d fighter harder not to lose you.”

he smiles softly and gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. you continue to stare at the sky, afraid it’ll all disappear if you move.

“y/n… you lose me no matter what you do.”

you sigh and his touch is gone just as quickly as you felt it.

glancing to where he sits, you choke back a sob, he’s already fading as the light from the sun starts to rise.

“i know.” you feel like you can’t breathe as the words force their way past your lips.

he smiles. it’s broken.

“i’m sorry.” your heart breaks as he speaks, you’re starting to forget what he sounds like, it’s been so long.

“i love you.” you reach for him, hoping, no praying, that you can touch him, feel him one last time before he slips from your grasp again.

“i know.” he never says it back and you know it’s because your brain can’t imagine what the words sound like on his lips, never having heard them before, even if you confessed while he was alive.

not even your dreams can bring you solace as you watch him fade completely, your body jolting upright in the sweat soaked sheets you lay.

the tears are steadily streaming down your face, you do nothing to stop them as the sun crests over the horizon and the light sneaks into your room.

“why’d you have to go?”

there’s no answer. there’s never been one, but you’ve always known his motivations.

“i had another dream of you last night,” you sit cross legged on the grass, the wind blowing softly in response to your words. as if filling the silence in place of an answer.

“this time we sat on the roof watching the stars, like we did when we were kids,” you sigh, the tombstone across from you reading touya’s name.

‘dabi’ is written in smaller letters beneath, your idea as you knew he would’ve liked that over touya but his father insisted on using his given name.

it had taken fuyumi, natsuo, and shoto just to get him to agree, but you knew touya would be happy wherever he was.

“i told you i loved you in this one, before it ended the same as the others. with you fading away as the sun rose, and me jolting awake with tears streaming down my face.” it’s just you visiting him today, and somehow it feels better than visiting him in the facility.

he passed away after his birthday, a couple days before you had the chance to see him again. you got the call from shoto, fuyumi too distraught to be able to tell you.

hearing the words from shoto’s monotone voice made it hurt worse than you imagine hearing it from fuyumi’s voice would’ve.

“i still can’t believe you’re gone. it’s been a year now, it feels like just yesterday you were turning twenty-four,” your voice shakes as your arms wrap around yourself.

“i never thought there’d be a time where i was older than you,” the tears don’t come as quickly anymore but they still come.

“i miss you so much touya. why’d you have to do it?” you plead as if the stone would provide an answer.

you sigh heavily and stand, dusting yourself off to leave.

“i love you,” the wind that blows is warm, a gentle caress around your body and you imagine it as his arms wrapping you in a hug. a silent i love you too, his final comfort to you.

your eyes blur as you leave, you don’t visit him again after that.

[transmutationisms]

hey, since you've mentioned before that you're learning french, i was just wondering if you have any thoughts on the science behind second-language acquisition --- specifically on stephen krashen's theory of 'comprehensible input'. obviously i agree that the more CI you get the better but i have some misgivings about an approach that completely rejects any sort of explicit grammar instruction. i think it's possible to develop an intuitive sense of a language's grammar through CI and at the same time be aided by some explicit grammar instruction where necessary. and while i respect that not everybody's goal in language-learning is to speak with perfect grammar, i have to say there are a lot of people who take the 'CI purist' approach who still make fairly basic grammar mistakes that could have easily been fixed by going over grammar. and if they don't mind that then that's perfectly fine but my problem is that they often misrepresent how much grammar you can naturally 'aquire' through CI only. and obviously if your native language is english you can probably get by with not studying spanish grammar (though you will likely still make mistakes) but you're gonna have a much harder time if you decide to not study the grammar of, say, mandarin. anyway, sorry if you're not familiar with the debate and i've just bombarded you with information that you couldn't care less about but i thought i'd ask anyway.

i don't know this particular person's work lol but yeah i think you and i basically agree -- the skills a person needs to learn depend on what they're using the language for, but yea if your goals include knowing the grammar then you just are going to have to do some amount of explicit grammar instruction... like it cuts both ways sometimes (hearing common constructions in films & podcasts sometimes cements them way better for me than parsing them out on paper or whatever) but i just don't think it's possible to like intuit the entire grammar that way lmao.

i guess with french this is maybe a particulr concern to me because there are a lot of homophones so often when i hear a word out loud, i only know which it is based on context (vers/ver/verre/vert...) so like my listening comprehension & grasp of grammar are mutually complementary skills. like i basically only used reading knowledge for many years & in retrospect that was kind of foolish because i read better when i hear better -- i think this is probably true of pretty much all languages lol. again though which skills matter to you does just depend on what you need to be able to do with them. so

[bellewintersroe]

can we have dick stealing sobel's gf 😌

AAAAGAHAGQHAH I LOVE THIS - writing with Sobel feels icky 🤢 so I’ve made that part as brief as possible- may seem unrealistic but I loveeee unrealistic scenarios 😈 ty for your request so sorry it’s legit taken a ridiculous amount of time to get round to doing this. Just a reminder this is based of the hbo portrayal of Sobel only, no disrespect to the real man!! Dick Winters stealing Sobels GF headcannons 🤭

okay let’s start off with something semi unrealistic but whatever.

Your family forced you into an arranged marriage with Sobel, or maybe you’ve been together since you were teens and it’s just… going nowhere, yeah. I kinda think the being forced to marry him is more realistic…

I can’t imagine there being much if any intimacy between you and Sobel- *shudders*.

And let’s be honest you’re soooo beautiful everybody’s clueless as to why you’re with the guy you’re with?

you’re stationed in England working there and lets say you’re just wayyy more sociable than your partner is. He’s not very nice to you- take that as you will, but at any chance to escape him you can.

pls you’re deffo already planning your breakup as soon as he’s shipped away, but you’re kinda worried about his and your families so you’re semi-sticking it out.

You become pretty isolated and essentially just give up on your love life.

that was until a red-haired, blue eyed soldier walks in. You can tell from the other men’s reactions he’s higher up- but you can also tell from the shy smile he sends in your direction he’s somewhat more reserved and polite.

Dick thinks you’re beautiful. He doesn’t know who you are and who you’re involved with- if he did he wouldn’t have been glancing over with flustered cheeks all evening.

“Dick just go over and speak to her for Christ sake.” Nixon eventually nudged his friend out of his seat.

that’s how you and dick eventually began talking. He’d approached you so politely, he didn’t want to intrude (I feel like Nix would have to get involved just to push it).

It wouldn’t even slip into conversation until later that night who you were with. The shock on both their faces is evident, Dick more so felt disappointed, then he felt guilty, then confused, and then a little humoured? Like how are you with Sobel out of all people?

anyway you see each other often and it’s a nice little friendship, there’s definitely some lingering feelings like you both know they’re there, but neither of you are bold enough or have the disrespect to make a move.

I feel like Dick would see you walking alongside Sobel, you both look so uncomfortably stiff and awkward with one another, he can tell you’re miserable.

all the men find it HILARIOUS that such a beautiful broad is with Sobel? But each to their own.

anyway, it’s one day, nearing dark outside and Dick just stumbles upon you sat on the wall, overlooking the fields in English.

when he notices you’re crying- uhhhh he feels a little awkward but he’s more concerned than anything. He checks the area first to see if you’re with anybody, but he’d be so gentle when he approaches you.

“Are you okay?” He’d accidentally startle you, but the gentle hand on the top of your back soothes you almost instantly.

you’d probs cry to him about how badly you don’t want that marriage and how horrible Sobel has been to you. Dicks just heartbroken about how badly you’re being treated. He doesn’t tell you to leave him, but in some ways he kinda does.

he’s NEVER do this for his own gain, but he knows that he can treat you better.

And ugh he’s so nice and respectful, everything that a man should be- and hearing that your family might DISOWN?!?? You for not marrying Sobel has him straight up admitting everything he feels for you.

Dick’s never been overly emotional but omg he can’t handle the idea of you not being taken care of. He’s very traditional and respectful, so wouldn’t force anything on you, but he’d 100% make it clear where he stands with you (there’s no room for overthinking with him).

so when he’s stood right there offering the world to you how could you say no? You leave Sobel without any reluctance and Dick is there waiting both emotionally and physically for when you’re ready. Of course if that’s not what you want he wouldn’t rush you. He kinda leaves you to do your own thing.

Its Nix who see’s the ring not on your finger, you’d get a little boozy with him and admit your feelings about Winters, you’re gushing about him and loud-mouth-lew obviously reports this back to a red faced Winters.

“oh, she said that?”

it’s safe to say you grow closer and closer, even if the progress is slow. He’d keep you updated through letters in the war, and you basically have a full fledged relationship just through writing to one another.

such romantic letters as the time goes on, who would’ve thought?

you best believe by the end of the war you two are living together in a quiet corner of the world, on a little farm and you’re happier than ever.

Sobel had warned you that without him you’d have nothing, no family, no man, no friends, no house, no money.

With winters you’d have it all and more. Sobel can’t do anything but act professional when he see’s Winters but omg he’s so salty.

[artemismoorea03]

DP x DC: WHAT THE FUCK, FENTON

I think I've seen something like this somewhere before but I'm also not sure so if there is already something like this, I'm sorry.

WARNINGS: Mentions of Character Death and Grief, Implied/Referenced/Suspected Child Abuse, Depression and Self-Harm? (only implied, but non-graphic) IT HAS A HAPPY ENDING, I PROMISE.

Danny Fenton was dead.

At least, that's what everybody in Amity Park was told after something happened in Fenton Works. Maddie and Jack Fenton insisted that Danny was dead and that a ghost was responsible. Danny's friends and Sister were weirdly quiet though, but not grieving.

No.

Grief was never an emotion that Dash Baxter saw on any of their faces. Instead rage took it's place. A rage that seemed to be shared by Mayor Masters who sudddenly started cracking down on housing laws, regulations, and other issues. He changed is mind of 'Ghosts are the enemy' to 'Ghost Hunting is no longer permitted' much to the annoyance of his "friends".

Dash didn't understand what was happening, what happened to Fentur-Fenton, or why the all the sudden changes but what confused him most was how he felt about it. When he had gotten the news he felt physically sick. He missed two full days of school just because he felt sick. When he went to school and heard some wanna-be A-Listers spreading rumors about how Fenton was in a bad place and had just taken himself out.

Before any of Fenton's friends could even think about shutting them down Dash shut them down by breaking one of their noses.

A few days later he sat with Foley, Manson, and Valerie at lunch. They were surprised and asked him what he was doing there while his friends acted appalled but Dash didn't reply and just put his head down on the table. It wasn't until near the end of lunch that Dash finally spoke.

"I'm sorry... I'll try to be better... for Fenton."

This surprised all of them. Even Dash but what surprised everybody even more was when he started to cry. In the end it was Foley who came over and put his hand on Dash's shoulder.

Nothing was said, but it was enough to comfort Dash and leave him with more questions.

Why weren't they the one's crying? Their best friend had died and they were comforting him? This was bullshit! He didn't even like Fenton!

Right?

It was later that year when Casper High went to Gotham City for a football game against Gotham University. The game was going well until half-time when Star approached them while they were on time out.

"Um... hey guys not to totally like throw off the groove or anything but... isn't that Danny?"

Every member of the gootball team and the cheerleading squad turned to where Star pointed and Dash's eyes locked onto a familiar black haired, blue eyed kid in an expensive uniform. Dash had a split second thought of 'There's no fuckin way that's Fenton. Maybe a look alike?'

But then the kid shrank down slightly between two other teens one with curtained black hair and one with darker skin and Dash knew.

Dash threw himself towards the fence, climbing over the fence and onto the bleachers as Danny held up his hands and stood up quickly. He was pale and anxious, the two teens with him looking ready to fight as Dash grabbed him by teh front of the shirt in front of his whole school.

"WHAT THE FUCK, FENTON?!"

"D-Dash! I can explain, I-"

Danny started rambling out a frantic and bullshit excuse but Dash was just hearing static, ignoring the two teens next to them telling him to put Danny down. Dash then hugged him with a pissed off growl while Danny went stiff.

"We thought you fuckin' died, Man. What the hell..." He whimpered, tears burning his eyes as Danny relaxed and after a moment hugged Dash back.

"Sorry, Dash."

Dash was about to yell at him more when he heard Mr. Lancer shout out.

"TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD, WHAT IS HAPPENING, BAXTER?!" Dash let Danny go and gestured for the teacher to see which was when Dash heard his teacher actually swear for the first time ever. "What the fuck?"

"H-Hi, Mr. Lancer..." Was all Danny could say as an awkward reply.